Update: Look, I'm sorry about the lack of scene break lines. Blame it on FanFiction. In my word document, the tapestry of my mind from which my half-coherent sermons originate, there are these nice little lines that indicate where and when I change scenes. However, the quickedit function does not pick up on these, so I am forced to manually include them. This did not work, as you may or may not have noticed. So I'm trying again.

"The first level of the Sharingan is called the 'discerning eye.' It provides the Uchiha with the ability to see the truth of the world."
- Eyes of an Uchiha, Memoirs of Uzumaki Naruto

Intermission A: Elaboration
By Geno Calamari

He moved with the casual stride of a warrior, loosly self-aware and yet coiled tightly enough to strike at the slightest provocation. The crowds parted before him, moving aside for the office as much as the heroic man under the robe of office.

Despite his seemingly lazy smile and calm demeanor, the Yondaime Hokage was uncomfortable. He hated formal affairs, like the presentation of a Royal Clan heir. It was boring and staid and always took far longer than he believed they should. How many of these had he been to in his short years as Hokage? Three now? Aburame, Taira, and now this one. The Inuzuka clan had been blessed with a girl almost a month ago, so he'd avoid that one for just a little longer.

But he'd have to suffer through this one and it might take some doing to keep smiling throughout this entire ceremony. How much longer would this be? With the speed only the Yellow Flash could achieve, he checked his watch.

Had it only been ten minutes since the elders had begun the speech about loyalty to the clan and the village and responsibility? He squeezed his eyes in a vain attempt to hold back the sudden dizziness that rushed from his skull down his spine. It was a strangely pleasant tingling sensation, that feeling when you were on the border of passing out from boredom.

Keeping himself upright on willpower alone, the blonde man focused all of his attention on the emaciated man speaking on the virtues of self-sacrifice and honor.

"... these are the things that we, as Uchiha, strive to uphold in the village. We are pillars of society, guardians of order and peace. This is the responsibility that will one day be passed on to our youngest generation. Among the most sacred of our burdens is the proper indoctrination of the youth of today..."

He lost track again about there. It was all far too long-winded to be of any use, and Yondaime truly doubted that this small boy was absorbing any of this asinine rhetoric. But the boy stood all the same, straight-backed with an undeniable air of authority for one so young.

Three years old, and the whole weight of the future is on his head. It was sad, really. This boy would never be a child, never play with others his own age, never live and grow as a person should. The way of the ninja was to be his only path in life. The Yellow Flash bit his lip to hold back the bile rising in his throat. No child, no matter how talented or gifted or privileged should be forced to live the life of a killer from his earliest memories. Some might say this was the price of being gifted with one of the most awesome bloodline limits known to shinobi kind, but he disagreed. A child was a child, and especially an Uchiha child, who was nourished with steel and fire instead of love and attention.

It made him so angry that he had to step on Hyuuga Hiashi's foot to get his mind off the injustice of it all. Hiashi didn't react, but Hizashi quirked that funny little smile they shared. The barest flick of the elder's head indicated the beginning of one of their silent arguments. Never had the Hokage known two closer people than the Hyuuga twins.

Mutual assent reached, they chose the dignified route of ignoring the idiotic Hokage.

That made it a challenge.

Five seconds later, although it felt much longer in ninja-time, the Sandaime Hokage had hit the Yellow Flash over the head with his pipe. Mumbling something about 'Setting a good example' and 'You'll catch hell for this,' the elderly man settled back down into his chair behind them and folded his arms. Hyuuga Hiashi grimaced around his bruised ribs while Hyuuga Hizashi allowed himself a rare self-satisfied smile. All's well that ends well, eh Hizashi?

Uchiha Akatori was barely containing his fury. A man who shared more in common with a faceless marble statue than the fire he so professed affinity. But even his stoic nature was crumbling at the hellfire boiling up in him. With a look that plainly said 'Ruin this for my son and I'll kill you,' Akatori glared down the Yellow Flash. It was unnerving, for when Yondaime got into a staring match with someone, he frequently found terror and apprehension in his opponent's visage. Not so with the Uchiha.

But then again, Uchiha Akatori had never been intimidated by the blonde. Especially not in the academy days when Akatori could still keep up, or genin days, when they had been in direct competiton.

Nope. Akatori was no fun at all.

Sighing inaudibly, though every Uchiha in the room could hear it, the most powerful man in Konoha focused his attention on the ceremony once again and tried to figure out how far along they had gotten in the proceedings.

"... this is the blessing of childhood, the innocence of spirit and the simplicity of vision..."

Yeah, the same innocence you'll beruthlessly expunging from this boy...

"... that will one day grow to the man that will lead and shape our great clan for the next generation."

Sounds like he's finally wrapping up, Yondaime thought, but then realized that after this gathering, there was a reception. He couldn't afford to miss that. With only a few years under his belt as Hokage, he was constantly fighting to maintain his position in the public eye. Without getting out of the office and being seen as a person and more than just a goofy hat, his approval would drop among the shinobi and his people would lose faith in his leadership ability. This ceremony, like the many others in his busy schedule, provided a critical opportunity to get to know the people depending on his guidance and vision as a leader.

Never underestimate the power of the meet-and-greet.

"I give you Itachi, heir to the Clan Uchiha!" And with that, the young boy turned. Calmly turning a face that might have been cute had he smiled toward the crowd, the boy gazed out, his eyes barely higher than the heads of those assembled before him.

"I accept this responsibility," he said softly, without trace of the soft-pallette lisp that children who speak too early develop. For a child of only three, he stood squarely, his face even and his eyes locked straight ahead, a stance drilled into him from hours of practice. Had he not been less than four feet tall, he would have looked commanding, regal even. But now he looked only defiant, like a petulant child being scolded for disobedience.

It was the lack of fire in his eyes that worried Yondaime. He was brainwashed, a perfect servant of the Clan, molded in an image of their design without his own ability for independent reasoning or thought. Had they broken this child's wings before he even learned to fly?

Disgusted, the Yondaime Hokage forgot to applaud. It was only when Chomaru nudged him hard (and for Chomaru, that's hard) that he remembered himself and remembered his station. Putting two hands together, the sound he created was off-beat with the rest of the applause and a bit quieter than the rest, but the sound he created was washed away in the tide.


Those keen blue eyes darted over the Uchiha Head's shoulder, examining something that didn't look away quite as quickly as everyone else did.

"Who is that lovely creature?" the Yondaime Hokage asked, nodding to a young woman half-hiding behind the elder's table, acting as a serving girl for the aged Uchiha. Suddenly, the Hokage hoped he kept the wonder from his voice… not that an Uchiha would be fooled by such a base omission.

She was indeed a beautiful lady. Her hair was a dark as night itself and had it been undone the Yellow Flash would have bet it fell to her waist. As it was, it was done up in a complicated braid held by two large wooden needles. Her cosmetics were properly applied, lightly rouging her perfect complexion. Full lips pouted almost playfully at him, but it was gone in an instant and the blonde was sure he imagined it. Her onyx eyes met his for just one moment and he felt something electric pass between them.

Akatori glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his old rival's nod. He froze, staring wide-eyed for a second before turning back to his Hokage faster than he probably intended. Of course he recognized the woman, how could he not?

"That," he said with an appreciable amount of menace in his voice, "is my sister."

Well that tears it, the Yondaime Hokage decided, I have to meet her now.

Well that tears it, I have to meet her now.

He tried to repress the grin, he really did, but it was inevitable. That shit-eating grin Uchiha Akatori knew to fear and hate blossomed on the face of his most bitter rival. This provoked the standard reaction, a glare of deathly proportions that only Konoha's most royal clan could pull off. Had he been any normal man, that glare would have blasted him out of his ninja sandals.

Sadly, the Yondaime Hokage had never been a normal man. Lacking in taste and sense, he had always been deadly, to himself as much as his enemies.

"You want to introduce me?" he asked, fully ignoring his seething ex-worst-enemy and the blanch that statement caused. He finds it strange that he has never met his rival and worst political enemy's only sister. Thinking quickly, Yondaime can't remember ever being told of her existence in the first place.

"No," Akatori deadpans. The Yellow Flash takes a moment to pout.

"You're no fun at all," the Uchiha clan head begins to tune him out, because even though the blonde man is the most powerful and important lord in all of Konohagakure, he isn't stupid and should known better than to go getting himself mixed up with the Uchiha. How dare he think he can just waltz into our precious bloodline! The elder-council has already arranged a good marriage for her and that's that.

"See, now you're just ignoring me," the Yellow Flash gestures, "I insulted your mother and you didn't even bat an eye." He grasped the bridge of his nose in one of his favorite overdramatic gestures, blowing a hard sigh and closing those forceful blue eyes.

"Here," the Hokage forces a kunai into the tightly clenched fist of his Uchiha companion, "…keep this for me."

Akatori doesn't have to look at the kunai to recognize what it is. It's one of those special, three-tined kunai with the tag printed along the spine of the knife. The tag allows the Yellow Flash to teleport instantly to the kunai with the use of shunshin no jutsu. Although why he's holding one was still a…

"I might have to make a flashy exit," the Yellow Flash grins wolfishly, enjoying his cleverness immensely, "You know, for the ladies…" and nods shortly in the direction of Akatori's sister.

Suddenly, the Uchiha clan head remembers that this man has been trained by Jiraiya, the Sannin and legendary pervert. This thought made him very, very worried.

"Bye now," Konoha's own blonde idiot waves and gives a small chuckle, content in the purple-and-white blotchy face of an Uchiha split between horror and anger. It's not every day that Yondaime can have this much fun at a party. He walked away, taking a brisk stride that will lead in him a descending spiral around the room to his target. No need to be too obvious about it, now.

As soon as the blonde man broke away, Akatori's fist clenches tightly around the kunai. Only one thing to do now. Purposefully, he strides to the bathroom and deposits the Yondaime Hokage's special knife into the toilet.

There. Flash that. The Uchiha clan head smirked.


As long as he can remember, Uchiha Itachi has hated the rain.

He is a man that hates a significant number of things in this life, but rain is close to the top. It gets in your eyes, mats down your hair, ruins visibility, and shortens the distance you can throw with a reasonable degree of accuracy. Rain leaves him feeling quenched, putting out the burning fire inside, making him want to get whatever it is he has left to complete done and get home, and reducing him to a smoldering ember. Admittedly, a smoldering ember wrapped in highly volatile explosives, but an ember none-the-less.

It washes off the blood, when all he wants is for everyone to see.

"This! This is what I am!" he wants to tell them, "And I like it!" but he is too stoic by nature to allow such an outburst. Nor would they be too keen on hearing his declaration… though they would probably find him a necessary abomination and do nothing when their darkest suspicions were confirmed.

He rather liked that word… 'Abomination.' It rolled off the tongue, so strong, so offensive. So accurate.

Thirty-six hours ago, he not-so-subtly threatened his father.

"I guess I'll drop tomorrow's mission," he had said it with all earnestness and truly meant it. His father had been shocked, mortified even. "I'm going to Sasuke's entrance ceremony into the ninja academy." It was a brilliant ploy to force his father into attending the ceremony. If a family member did not pledge for a potential academy student, they were not accepted. In his father's obsession with his eldest son's performance, he had neglected his youngest.

Itachi had always found filial piety trite at best and obsequious at worst. Yet another addition to the long list of intolerable things in his life. Perhaps he would create a physical list one day, as a testament to his mentality.

So his father had gone to the entrance ceremony and Itachi had gone to his mission. It was a simple retrieval mission. Get in, get the technique scroll, leave another village's calling card, get out.

Easy. He'd done it a hundred times before.

He sat, back against a wall, rain pouring down on his head. Any other man might have wondered where it all went wrong. Itachi wasn't sure it had even started right. The complicated part was getting through the innumerable traps and dozens of enemy jounin guarding this sacred scroll. No extraction, no clear escape routes, no reliable intelligence.

Simple.

Getting inside the Hidden Village of Mist was never an easy proposition, even when they went so far as to open the front gate and roll out the welcome mat. Even this dreary place hosted the Chuunin Exam, although not with the same frequency as Hidden Leaf and Itachi had never taken it here. Hadn't taken it more than once anyway…

So half of his four-man team didn't enter the Village proper. Two of his ANBU stayed outside, slaying the chuunin on guard duty, damaging the massive curtain wall at the boundary with specially designed explosive tags and drawing a significant portion of the Mist-nin to the walls in preparation for an all-out assault. When their position became untenable, they were to pull out and retreat to a predetermined rendezvous position twenty kilometers from Mist Village.

Itachi and the remaining member of the team would proceed to capture the objective and then make for the rendezvous position. If they weren't back in six hours, then any remaining members of his team were to abort the mission and fall back to Konoha via predetermined routes created to maximize confusion and shake off pursuers.

In retrospect, it had been a wise decision on his part to bring a Branch house Hyuuga along. The Byakugan was perfect for detecting mechanical traps that the Sharingan could not see while Itachi detected any permanent effect ninjutsu traps the other could not observe. They made an oddly well-matched pair in that regard. Also, the Hyuuga had provided invaluable information regarding enemy positions, emplacements and movement.

And the Hyuuga was just as expendable as any other ANBU he might have had in his arsenal. It would infuriate the Mist to no end to retrieve a Hyuuga body with rotten eyes. His expression softened from blank to predatory anticipation as he considered what he had to do next.

The Hyuuga sat next to him, his breathing as calm as Itachi's, though he could not hide his nervousness from the Commander with an infinite number of layers of pride or dignity. The Byakugan, a frighteningly powerful bloodline-limit, pulsated slowly as he refocused his cursed eyes through the low wall behind them to ferret out the positions of those jounin Itachi could sense.

Too many, too close together… he couldn't quite delineate between one ninja and the next.

The Hyuuga's fingers flicked a quick slash and then an elegant circle between the middle finger and thumb. The ANBU symbol for 'Surrounded.' Itachi responded by burying his left ring-finger into the knuckle joint of his thumb, then curling his forefinger and smallest finger over the opposable digit.

How many?

There was no delay in the reply. Seventeen. Five of jounin level, four Mist Hunter-nin, and eight chuunin/jounin of undeterminable rank.

He nodded, a sharp burst of motion with the muscles of his neck, by way of acknowledgement. The enemy did not know where they were, Itachi noted, or they would be under constant assault at this very moment. Sparing a second, the Uchiha Commander spun off several mental simulations and considered the outcome of as many different strategies.

A tense thirty seconds passed before the squad-leader decided on a course of action. His fingers flashed through twisted patterns, conveying concepts as easily as words ever could.

Take side-street. I'll draw away some. Escape to rendezvous.

There was a momentary hesitation as the Hyuuga absorbed the information, then he signed the word 'Understood.'

Itachi wondered if his subordinate knew he was being sacrificed. The Uchiha carried the scroll, not the Hyuuga. But that was hardly his concern. If the Hyuuga survived, then it would be considered an even greater victory. If he did not, then the mission was still successful.

Without another sign, Itachi gathered his feet under him and vaulted the low wall into the courtyard and began to run.


The first time he ever saw a Sharingan was at the age of four.

A clansman had come in the evening and informed his mother that his father had given his life to preserve the Clan. Neji hadn't even waited to hear the 'Honorable Sacrifice' rhetoric that inevitably followed such a pronouncement, to give some measure of comfort to the aggrieved, as though it actually mattered.

Hyuuga Neji had sprung out of his chair and run as fast as his short legs would carry him to the Clan meeting hall. The doors were open and light radiated out into the twilight. It was cold outside, but none of the main house members really felt the need to close the door. In truth, after tonight's turn of events, none had the energy or will to bother closing a door.

In the young branch member dashed, up the long, shallow steps and into the central foyer.

There, his father was arranged on a pallet, his arms stoically laid out by his sides, eyes closed and forever darkened. He was dead. Fast-acting, painless poison, his uncle would later tell his mother, knowing full-well that Neji was hiding close by eavesdropping.

His widened eyes failed to register the shock on his elder's faces as he cried out to his beloved father, running to him and deftly avoiding their hands. They had not expected him to be there and none of them wanted him to observe such a proceeding.

He clung to his father's clothes, wadding the stiff material in his tiny fists and simply balling his eyes out. It was one thing to be told that his father was going to die and to see him dead. This was so much more personal, so much more real.

"Otou-sama!" he cried, willing his father to wake, to move, to do something, anything, but not to leave him, not like this…

The elders looked to one another, each unsure how to deal with the boy, but too uncomfortable with the situation itself to take immediate action. Hiashi himself looked beyond grief and this was simply grinding away whatever sanity he still possessed.

Then a strong hand affixed itself to Neji's shoulders and pealed him away from the corpse of his father. As they lifted him bodily, he kicked and struggled and punched with all the energy of a small, angry child, but it did him no good. It was like striking stone, even with his jyuuken, he could do nothing.

He turned to look at his attacker, who would dare touch him and separate him from his father.

His eyes met with the man holding him aloft and he instantly quieted.

They were red as blood, in a way no eye should ever be, and they stared at him with a fiery intensity that scorched his very soul. Three strange black dots whirled slowly about the central pupil in each iris, frightening him all the more because things do not spin in a person's eye. Yet despite the sudden pang of fear and spike of adrenaline, Neji could feel a strange lightness come over his body. It was like these horrible eyes were staring into the depths of his soul and anesthetizing everything that made him a person.

Quieted, the man handed him, still held aloft bodily, to a surprised and nervous Hyuuga Hiashi.

"Commander," Neji heard, though it sounded as though coming from a million miles away rather from the short old man wearing white robes just a few feet thither. In his dazed state, Neji missed the hint of warning in his tone.

Hiashi fumbled with Neji, unaccustomed to holding a child, finally gripping him under the arms and firmly retrieving him from the demon-eyed man's grasp. As he pulled him back to the safety of his uncle's arms, Hyuuga Neji got his first good look at his assailant. A thin, high-boned face with a smooth nose, never broken, stared over his head into his uncle's eyes impassively. He stood in a calm, neutral stance that Neji did not recognize as a taijutsu position and allowed his arms to fall to his sides when the child was clear of them. His gray hair was tied back behind him, long enough to warrant the usage of a hair-tie at the nape of his neck. The lines on his face were straight and unmarred by the years of combat he had seen, though he looked no older than fifteen to Hyuuga Neji.

But those eyes… The young boy was enough of a prodigy to know that the evil man did something to him, but he had seen no seals, and felt no chakra.

Neji was terrified of this awful boy-man. Something was not right in the way he walked, the way he stood… how easily he moved through the gathering of people to return to the old, robed man's side. How could the Clan allow such an evil being into its most important building? He did not know and could not think straight.

By the time his head was finally clearing of the mist the demon put there, the ANBU were lifting the pallet from the dais and taking the body of his father with the old man. This old man, as he would learn later on in the evening, was the Sandaime Hokage, the leader of all the ninja in Konoha and the ultimate authority. His dark-haired companion was the ANBU Commander, an adolescent by the name of Uchiha Itachi, the Hokage's iron right fist. Not another word was said about him, no matter the number of questions Neji asked.

As they passed him, carrying his father out of his sight for the last time, Neji locked eyes with the crimson-eyed man once again.

There was a fleeting moment of understanding, and the last bit of haze in his head blew away as the older man reversed whatever it was he had done.

Just for a second, Neji fancied he saw pity in those vicious eyes. Pity masked by smug superiority and condescension. As such, he was destined to always hate and fear the Sharingan, the evil, damned eyes hidden in the face of an Uchiha. The eyes that took his father away, the eyes that rendered him powerless against them.

And then they were gone to a secret meeting to hand over the body of his father to an avaricious Cloud envoy desperate to get their hands on the Byakugan. Rapacious shadows on the edge of his mind were all he remembered as he fell into darkness.


The boy was stupid and young. If anything was in his eyes, Itachi would have honestly called it envy. That the young boy could express his emotions so freely before his clan elders without the fear of censure or sanction, it sickened him. This boy was no shinobi, would grow to be no great soldier or genius. If anything, Hyuuga Neji's outburst and inappropriate behavior merely cemented Itachi's long-held belief that the Hyuuga clan was weak.

But deep down, where no one but himself could see, he hated that the boy could show his heart so openly. A Shinobi must possess a heart that does not show tears. Itachi did. Never in his life could he recall feeling any emotion other than disappointment, hate, disgust, or relief. He was a man who did not experience his own emotions first-hand, needing to gauge the reactions of others to his presence to properly understand his own moods. He was a black hole, only detectable and quantifiable by the things it dislodges and displaces.

He felt scorn. This was the boy who his clan elders warned him to watch for? This was the prodigy that might one day replace him? Hardly. The Hyuuga clan was weak, beneath his concern, and a waste of his time.

The way they parted for him in their own meeting hall was disgusting. Had they no pride? Had they no spines? The greatest shinobi of the Hyuuga clan feared him, even in their own domain. How disappointing. He had expected more.

But then again… Itachi was used to being disappointed.


The ground rolled beneath his feet, the sonic vibrations pushing their way through solids far faster than any other state of matter. It was only a few seconds before the shockwave caught up, blowing wind through his hair and kicking dust and debris into his eyes. He clenched his teeth to keep them from rattling and felt his bones shudder from the force.

It ruined the throw he was about to make and he was forced to wipe the grime from his face.

Nowhere in his mind does Uchiha Itachi stop to consider what caused the blast, because he already knew. It was a dead-man trigger on a vest of explosive notes. Explosive vests are worn under the standard body armor all ANBU have during deep cover or insertion missions. They're required for any ANBU who might be captured in enemy territory on a dangerous and potentially politically destabilizing mission. Designed to trigger when brain activity ceases or the heart stops for a period of time, the explosive vest completely destroys the remains of anyone wearing it. This is useful because if there is no body, then there is no proof of identity, and it limits the probability of a war being started from a bungled covert operation.

In addition, it gives greater incentive for shinobi of other villages to capture the ANBU alive for interrogation, which frequently leads to a greater probability of the ANBU being returned to the Leaf alive in a prisoner exchange or extracted by another ANBU team.

Not to mention, ten seconds is generally long enough to draw in a few unsuspecting ninja to examine the body, decimating them in the blast as well. It was an ingenious system, but incredibly suicidal and only used on high-risk missions such as this one. Itachi had to admit, the Fourth was a brilliant man to come up with something so recklessly devious.

The grime was out of his eyes and he saw that though his kunai went astray, the window pane adjacent to his target exploded from the force of the shockwave, lacerating the enemy jounin before he could react.

So in a way, his now-dead Hyuuga ally made up for throwing off his aim.

The Commander of the ANBU pressed on, slapping an exploding tag on the top of his target's head as he passed by. A half-second later, the dazed man's skull was violently evacuated by the resultant fireball. But he was out of Itachi's thoughts and below his mental radar already. The Uchiha was looking for another target to kill as he escaped from the Hidden Village.

Hopefully, the violent explosion would be enough to buy him a few minutes. Not that he needed it, but it gave him time to move carefully through the enemy village.

Strolling almost leisurely, Itachi flung a kunai at the rooftop to his left, catching an unprepared chuunin in the base of the spine; he was dead before he hit the ground. With effortless grace, he stretched out his hands to place identical explosive tags at the mouth of the alleyway he darted through. A pulse of chakra later and they were hidden from sight. More than enough to fool the tunnel-vision many pursuers get during the chase.

It was less than ten seconds later he heard them explode. Then there was silence. Chakra signatures dropped off his mental map.

Itachi smiled thinly. Mist-nin were so enthusiastic by nature that it betrayed them. Impulsive, expectant, and far too eager, they would throw themselves into battle without considering the consequences properly. This was, without question, the failings of a regimented training style that encouraged bloodthirstiness.

The sudden, violent movement of air behind him was all the warning Itachi received. Consequently, it was all the warning he needed.

Dodging left and tucking beneath the blow, he avoided the sword strike. Twisting his own ninjato in a fluid draw-cut, he cleared the space behind him, forcing the enemy Hunter-nin to back off or take a lethal wound. Hopping back, the Hunter-nin allowed Itachi to draw himself to his full, unthreatening height and lock eyes with him.

Mistake.


His eyes feel like they've been glued closed. His arm doesn't want to move either, despite his furious commands to lift up and clear whatever is holding his eyelids down. Fear and adrenaline course through him, because he can't see anymore and that's enough to scare him. All of his other senses are turned up all the way and he can feel his slack muscles tensing, ready to flinch at any sudden noise. He's provoked into fight-or-flight and he can't even move. Uchiha are protective of their eyes like that.

Forcing himself to calm down, his heart rate slows to a reasonable level. Interpret any information you have before coming to a conclusion. Something firm is beneath him, and guessing by the way gravity pulls on him, he's laying on his back. A bed, he rationalizes, so someone has captured me.

Sasuke tries to remember but all he can come up with is that last attack, the Rasengan smashing into the Chidori, a sharp burst of pain in his forehead, and then blackness. He can't remember how long he's been awake and doesn't remember waking up, because time has no meaning when you are held sightless and motionless.

Am I dead? This doesn't worry him as much as he thought it would. His entire life he's been chasing death, the sudden end and lack of sensation that comes with eternal blackness, with the single-minded determination he's known for. If he's dead, then this was all the farther he could go.

Odd that, that he can still think. If he can still think, then he can still consider his failures, his shortcomings, his betrayals… and this must be some form of hell. Sasuke doesn't believe in hell. Sasuke doesn't believe in anything. But if he were to believe in that afterlife nonsense, he'd suspect that hell wouldn't have beds. So hell is out of the question and he must be somewhere else.

Sudden fear stabs through him, cutting through the fog in his head like a knife through flesh, Am I paralyzed? This terrifies him. To be incapable of moving, little more than a vegetable… the inevitable outpouring of sympathy and pity… che… He would rather be dead. Any shinobi would rather be dead, because what is being immobile to one who has crossed the world by tree or run along the surface of the ocean? What is stillness to one who was once the most free of all creatures?

It is unbearable. A mercy-killing would be better than that. But the Leaf doesn't do that sort of thing.

From far away, he can hear a noise… a scuffle followed by a clank. The sound of a padded door opening. Footsteps, light and even. A woman, taking her time in crossing the room to where he lay. He doesn't recognize the footsteps. So it wasn't Sakura, for which he was thankful. Her emotional outburst lacked both pattern and reason and they made the young Uchiha uncomfortable.

Using ever last bit of willpower he possesses, Uchiha Sasuke forces his eyes open halfway.

Soft light illuminates the room, but stings his eyes even still. He ignores the pain and waits for them to adjust. They do, but far more slowly than he is accustomed to, which frightens him even more so. If his eyes are damaged then what about his Sharingan? He needs that… perhaps more than anything else.

A woman leans over him, twisting the knobs on several intravenous drips closed. The clear fluids dripping from the four solution bags into his arms and legs halt. She sighs heavily and straightens up, placing on hand on her hip and favoring him with the same look one might give an insect or other insignificant annoyance. It is the same look he always gave Sakura and Naruto. Funny how it makes him want to shrivel up and die.

The woman calmly waits. For how long, Sasuke does not know. He examines her, looking her over with the inquisitive eye of the Last Uchiha. She is short, no more than 160 centimeters. Her hair is a platinum blonde that makes him think she is related to Ino, but the hard, caustic brown eyes tell him otherwise. Her face is youthful, beautiful even, but it's drawn up in a disapproving frown that just seems angry and immature on a face that young. She's an authority figure of some sort, but Sasuke cannot remember who she is. Definitely a kunoichi, that much is obvious by the way she stands, unlike that of a women who's primary concern is domesticity.

His fingers are tingling and he flexes them; the action draws those angry chocolate eyes away from his face. Sasuke is unconcerned by her and a small thrill passes through him as feeling rushes up his back from his feet. In his sandals he wiggles his toes, and although he has never indulged in such a petty action before, he feels it appropriate at this moment.

"You're awake." It isn't a question and it's far from friendly. He swallows thickly, whatever it was in those fluid IVs still hasn't worn off completely. But it is probably enough for him to sit up.

He struggles upright and she does not assist. So she's not my nurse… but even still there is an odd sense of déjà vu about her. Somewhere, Sasuke has seen this woman.

Crossing her arms under her comically large breasts, she lets out a small harrumphing noise.

It clicks. This woman is that medic-nin lady that woke him up from the coma induced by Itachi's Tsukiyomi attack. This is Tsunade, the legendary Sannin, and the Godaime Hokage of Konohagakure. He did not expect her to be so young… but then he examines her massive endowment again and realizes that she's cloaked herself in genjutsu. A powerful one that he would need his Sharingan to see through, but Sasuke can't seem to get up the strength to summon it. His chakra is pulsing and weak, probably from some sort of injury Naruto dealt him or an after-effect of the curse seal level two. All he knows is that he failed to get to Orochimaru… which means he's still in Konoha.

He allows himself a bitter chuckle and leans back against the headboard. So Naruto succeeded then, huh?

"Akimichi Chouji is dead," Tsunade says, cutting into the silence. Her eyes are staring into his again, boldly, unflinchingly. Sasuke can remember a day when people were afraid to look an Uchiha in the eyes. He didn't understand the meaning of it at the time, but he still thinks it's sad how that day has passed. The back of his mind reports that his kunai holster on his leg is missing.

"Metabolic Cascade Failure brought on by a lack of required caloric intake to maintain his technique," she continues, the hard edge growing in her voice. The Uchiha is only half-listening, dedicating the other half of his mind to memorizing the room. Padded, white, sterile. Toilet and wash basin within five feet of the bed. They're made out of something metal and probably welded in place, so he won't be able to use that as a weapon.

Sasuke understands every word she says, but he doesn't care about Chouji; he would even go so far as to say that it's fitting. He literally ate himself to death. "The fat-ass got himself killed?" He's chained to this bed, the feeling in his ankles has come back enough now for him to feel the shackles there. Without chakra, he's trapped here, so he attempts to infuriate his captor in the hopes she'll present a weakness that he can take advantage of.

It doesn't take much. Her gorgeous face screws up and goes an interesting hue of red. Steam almost shoots from her ears and she has to count to ten to restrain herself. How dare that little shit? Tsunade regrets the necessity of keeping Uchiha Sasuke out of Orochimaru's hands. More over, she regrets the cruel necessity of keeping him alive.

"I hope you like the furnishings in here," her graceful hands rap knuckles smartly on the wash basin, "Because you're going nowhere for a very long time."

He says nothing, because he can tell she wants a reaction. Satisfying her capricious feminine whims is not high on his list of things to do. He merely stares at her, blankly enough that she's not entirely sure the medication has worked its way out of his system yet.

"You're to be confined in this room indefinitely. You are not allowed to train, you are not allowed possessions, and you are most definitely not allowed to leave."

His lips curl into a sneer and before he can stop himself, Sasuke shouts, "You can't expect me to just sit here?"

"You misunderstand, Uchiha," she's smiling in a way he does not like now, and the use of his surname surprises him. No one ever calls him Uchiha without the use of his given name as well, "You're being punished. While all your friends get to grow up, get stronger, and get promoted, you get to sit here in this padded room." She's getting a visceral thrill out of this, he realizes, but he does not understand why.

"You can't do this," he rasps quietly, more to reassure himself than to make an actual statement. He's firm in the belief that nothing will happen to him, even as he's chained to a bed in a padded room beneath the ANBU headquarters. They can't do anything to him without a trial, there's that pesky due-process thing, and he knows he can afford a legal counselor that will keep him from prison. Do they really put ninja in prison? He wonders what the point would be, as most shinobi worth their salt can pick locks. Not Naruto, of course, but why pick a lock when you can go through a door?

"I most certainly can," she snaps, "I am the Godaime Hokage and I can do anything I want. We are at war with the Sound and you tried to defect to them. The way I see it, brat," she spat the last word, hurling it like a curse without any of the affection she generally directs at Naruto, "that makes you a traitor. Traitors are guilty of treason. As you are, or were, one of my ninja, then you're dumb ass isn't covered by the trial laws Fire Country has set in place to protect civilians. You're paramilitary and that means you are judged on harsher standards, especially now that we're engaged in fighting.

"But being the Hokage in a time of war means I can suspend the elder council's decision-making privileges in favor of my own, enlightened reasoning," she's grinning again, and it's not a friendly sort of smile. "So I can keep you here, under lock-and-key, for as long as I like and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it."

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, jaw working but no sound is coming forth. She waits, arms crossed under her chest and an eyebrow raised. This reaction isn't satisfying her, because she's had Naruto's report so she knows how he completely lost his cool in their fight. Not that Naruto was any better off, mind you, but she expects the blonde boy to fight like a man possessed. Sasuke should never fight like a berserker, because he's just not built for it. He's long and lithe, bred for speed and not power. Uchiha, almost as a rule, had weak chakra-stamina, leading them to be as efficient as possible in battle. Not wild and out-of-control.

Naruto's built for staying power, because he can wear his opponent down with little risk to himself. He's solid, like a piece of marble or, more likely, granite. Even with the cursed-seal at level two, Sasuke could not match Naruto in a head-on strength match. To say otherwise is asinine.

Sasuke played the game Naruto's way and simply lost.

Why isn't he flying off the handle yet? She sighs mentally, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing her impatience. It is funny that she's less impatient than Sasuke, probably because she's so much older. Sasuke can't hold himself together for his lack of patience. Everything has to be done now, as fast as possible, so that he can be finished and get back to working toward his ultimate goal.

"Haruno Sakura has been asking me about you, did you know?" Sasuke doesn't react, but then she didn't expect he would. The sting, the punch-line, is still to come. "Every single day she asks me if she can come and see you, but I tell her 'No.' Because you're a traitor and I don't want you contaminating my ninja, especially not one as promising as she is."

Sasuke's ears perk up and even though he holds himself outwardly still, Tsunade can see the tension manifest in him by increased blood-pressure and heart-rate. Medic-nin are useful for things like that, after all. Time to bait the trap…

"Oh yeah, she's got some real potential in her. Great chakra control, quick learner, and intelligent," Tsunade smiles, "She'll go far as my apprentice." The smile is false, because Tsunade feels no compassion for a girl who can't do anything but cry. She hates that part of herself so much now, that she ran away and cried when life got hard. The medic sennin simply cannot tolerate it in others. Naruto never gets swallowed in self-pity, unlike just about everyone else he's ever met.

Self-pity does a lot of things to different people. Neji's personal vendetta is nothing more than self-pity's crusade. Hinata doesn't speak out and falls away into that blackness. The Copy-nin stares at a stone for hours at a time and hides behind pornography. Lee's training is inspired to new heights of self-destructive fervor by self-pity; feelings of inadequacy are nasty that way. Tenten feels she can't match up with the boys, and is very touchy about the topic of gender. That one doesn't surprise Tsunade, because she knew her mother. Gai is much like his protégé, pushing himself to match Sharingan Kakashi in games that favor genius instead of hard-work. It gives Anko nightmares that would break lesser individuals. It made her frightened of blood. Gaara hurts people because he can't properly express his displeasure with the state of the world. Ino's convinced herself that she's not smart enough, clever enough, pretty enough. Shikamaru can't accept responsibility. Chouji eats to make himself feel better. And all Sakura can do is cry. Because of it.

But Naruto doesn't let self-pity get in the way of his life. He has places to go and people to fight and things to do that will prove he's the best. He's inured to hurt and suffering, and that's probably what makes him the strongest of all of them. It is certainly why Tsunade respects him so much.

So it should be interesting to see if this tirade of vengeance stems from self-pity or from something darker, something more dangerous. Signs point to the latter, but Tsunade's not quiet willing to write him off yet. The elder council seems completely willing to let him off with a simply ANBU guard.

Tsunade's lip curls in disgust. So consumed with the past, the council is willing to bend over backwards, break any rule, to return things to the way they once were. The Uchiha were a pillar of stability in the community of Konoha and the veiled threat the Hokage could use in dire times, much like a big stick to be shaken at an enemy. Point and click. The whole damn clan was a primed and loaded weapon. Throw in the borderline mental instability most of the Sharingan users suffered and they were far too unstable.

In a way, Tsunade thinks that the massacre was a positive thing for Konoha. No more overbearing Uchiha police, no more stealing family techniques preserved over generations. Hell, in the past five years, more family styles have been cataloged and exhibited in the chuunin exams than in the thirty years preceding the massacre.

And if only so that she doesn't have to deal with more of these stupid Uchiha.

Sasuke interrupts her thoughts, "Your… apprentice? Sakura's… the Hokage's apprentice?"

Back to work. "Mmhmm," the blonde woman confirms, and something boils over in Sasuke's eyes. She neglects to mention that Tsunade really doesn't want a cry-baby or a whiner as an apprentice. Her first protégé was just peachy, acting as mother and conscience, and that worked out alright. Shizune was a good little girl and learned what Tsunade taught without complain or compunction. Tsunade doesn't want another apprentice, but Naruto asked without thinking first and Kakashi hinted unsubtly and Sakura put two-and-two together and then got her hopes up. How could Tsunade say no to that? How could she crush a girl's fragile hopes? Were she uncaring or ruthless, the Godaime Hokage might have just smashed them because her own hopes and dreams turned to dust and ash in her mouth, but she's not. The voluptuous woman can't be callous and indifferent anymore, because Naruto fixed that.

Damn brat. He makes everything so difficult.

But Sasuke is oblivious to her reservations and something inside begins to break. His hands fist the thin sheets of his bed and those dead-black eyes have fixed themselves on the floor, twitching back and forth every so often.

"Naruto's going off for a couple years to train with Jiraiya, so he'll be out of my hair for a while," the beautiful woman states conversationally, as though they aren't in a cell and one of them isn't an enemy of the state, "I figure he'll come back stronger than ever. Not like the boy he is now, but a young man." She nods her head in appreciation, because she's carried around the mental picture of what Nawaki should have looked like at age 15, and it transitions to Naruto so well. Sasuke twitches for a moment, his whole body shaking with anger, but then he masters himself. Her full lips pull up in one corner like a condescending smirk.

"But more importantly, the terms of your punishment," she clears her throat to draw his attention and begins to speak in her most official voice. During her entire five minute speech, which is essentially a summary of the elder council's final decision that has been heavily edited to fit her purposes, Sasuke does not look at her. He's lost in his own little world, and even words like 'Sealed' and 'Imprisonment' do not provoke a reaction. This disappoints her, because she wants to see him snap.

Her final decision is this: Sasuke's Cursed Seal has been covered by three concentric seals, in the aspect of Ring, Cup and Staff, respectively. These form the complex Three-Gate Essence Trap seal, which binds his chakra pathways through the control seals, routing the chakra exit-vector through the cursed seal. But it even goes so far to cap these pathways, making it something like a mesh grating over a pipeline, which will dissipate all chakra Sasuke attempts to mold uselessly.

As long as the Three-Gate Essence Trap remains in place, Sasuke will never be able to manipulate his cursed seal or use jutsu. He will be unable to perform the tree-leap movement, or walk on water, or even emit chakra from a specific part of his body.

As she watches, some of her words strike. His dark eyes go wide, surprised and frightened. The raven-haired avenger is attempting to access his Sharingan, but feels it slipping through his mental hold like water through fingers. It's not coming, no matter how hard he pushes. And fire spreads outward from his shoulder every time he tries. The wasted chakra is irritating Orochimaru's mark, forcing it to activate.

Every single time he will mold chakra, not only will it fail, but Sasuke will get an unsubtle reminder of his betrayal in the form of burning agony.

But that's not enough. This is treason, possibly even high treason, as he's the last possessor of the Leaf's most treasured and feared bloodline limit. Kind of. Any other ninja would be executed for treason and failed, premeditated defection. And, really, Tsunade would have easily signed his death sentence and slept well that night. But Naruto still believes in him, and even she can't just sweep something like that under the rug.

Sasuke will be imprisoned and kept under strict twenty-four hour guard until the situation with Orochimaru has been settled. If, at that time, the Hokage decides that he has been adequately punished for his transgressions, then his situation will be reassessed. He'll probably be set free, because the council will be capable of upholding their decision at some undetermined point in the future. Probably. But she'll be able to hold him here now and for the foreseeable future and Tsunade will just have to be satisfied with that.

There's only so much hurt she can inflict without brutalizing him herself. Not that the ANBU guards would care, being loyal to a fault. But Tsunade is a healer, even with her super-strength, and beating prisoners is something that she cannot do.

So she settles, because she's a woman, and they're experts at settling for less. She saw what condition Naruto was in after their battle. The Godaime Hokage was there when they all drifted back through the gates, broken and tired, some on the brink of death. The injuries they sustained were very unfortunate and if she weren't so out of her mind with worry over Naruto, she might have reacted more compassionately. When Naruto stumbled back through the gates with Kakashi, Tsunade's heart almost gave out.

He devastated Naruto, even in losing. He almost destroyed him, even in failing to kill him. For that offense, Tsunade will do everything in her power to make Uchiha Sasuke suffer. He will burn for his transgressions, even if she must put the torch to him herself.

There is no punishment severe enough to fit the crime Uchiha Sasuke has committed. But if she has her way, he will pay for it for the rest of his life, natural or unnatural.

She waits, hoping that he'll say something, even an expression of guilt. An apology, even as hollow and insufficient as it would sound, would be better than this brooding silence, but then Tsunade has talked to people who know Uchiha Sasuke better than anyone else and this silence is common. It is something that the Sannin prepared for.

A part of her, the 'violent, drunk on her own power part wants him' to get angry and take a swing at her. Hopes for it really. Give me an excuse to hurt you like I want to, it says. But silently and accidentally, he doesn't provide the desired reason. She expects him to sit here and not say anything, because he's the sort that won't speak as a form of spite. He's used to people trying to get a rise out of him, and he's become an expert at not speaking when he really wants to. He won't bend first.

The Godaime Hokage waits in vain. Eventually she remembers that she has other responsibilities and departs. She does not say goodbye or give him any reason to believe that he will ever see another living being. But then, someone has to feed him, so he figures that somebody has to provide food.

He finds himself hoping that they wear a mask, because he's not sure he can take their pitying stares or their accusing glares. Sasuke can only say one thing, and that is that he is very glad he doesn't have to endure visitors. Naruto's resolve-hardened blue eyes gaze unwaveringly at him from the depths of his memories before he pushes them down. Sakura's tearful confession and sniveling demeanor would drive him mad, if they were his only human contact day after day. Kakashi's judging silence, so similar to his own, his presence oozing smug superiority.

It is better this way, he tells himself. Without distraction, he can strive for… what? Inner harmony? Enlightenment? He's lost everything, so what does it matter anymore?

He reclines against the pillow and frame and tries to deal with the newfound realization that he is useless and weak once again. That even with Orochimaru's power, he was defeated.

Failures pushing in from all sides, Sasuke just tries to deal with the silence.


One step from my horizon
I think I dream I wonder
My honor yearns for reason
I plant this seed of treason
I'm the Sky, I'm the Heavens
I declare my intentions
Rain down, Bleed forever
Nothing's held from the dead
Rip down the stars, both hands
And wait for the sign, my final act
Die with the sun, burn cold
I'll empty the sky just to believe
I sow I reap I return
Dealing out retribution
Let truth be known through bloodshed
I'm the Sky, I'm the Heavens
I declare my intentions
Weighed down, False endeavor
Truth revealed at my end
Rip down the stars, both hands
And wait for the sign, my final act
Die with the sun, burn cold
I'll empty the sky just to believe
I will fall and thus the sky will follow
I will fall and thus the sky will follow
- Empty the Sky, Divinity Destroyed

Itachi likes chemistry. It's something he's always had a passion for, as much as he has passions that is. He finds it fascinating how everything in the world can be constructed from tiny little bits of the same thing. Everyone is made of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and a grab-bag of other trace elements. Potassium, nitrogen, calcium are all in there, somewhere. It is the order and arrangement of all these tiny little things that changes an unimpressive mass of molecules like, say, animal dung into ammonium nitrate. The only difference between Umino Iruka and Uchiha Itachi is those selfsame little bits, and look at the results.

Admittedly, he studied chemistry because it was important for him to learn. How many everyday substances can be used as weapons, or refined with minimal effort into something deadly? The sort of effort he could muster on a field operation? What combusts when exposed to an ignition source (something of a specialty of his, being an Uchiha and all) and what explodes, the critical difference being the rate of combustion and the force exerted during the process.

"Either way, brother," Sasuke declares, standing eye to eye with the demon he's carried in his mind since the night he stumbled into a massacre, "It ends tonight."

Chemistry is important. Yet another way of killing, of making his living, and few people ever see the esoteric chemical compound that ends them. It is important to him, because Itachi is a man who has never thrown away a tool in his life. He is an Uchiha. He is the Uchiha, a penultimate expression of an ideal. And Uchiha are (were) versatile, because their eyes given them dozens more options than any other shinobi could ever hope to match.

That demon chooses not to respond, already formulating his opening gambit against the younger man.

But now that he thinks about it, despite the complexity of the arrangements in their component molecules, the human mind is very simple. It's primal, brutal, and even elemental. It is humorous to him that he never saw it before.

Sasuke is like lead, heavy and slow, but undeniably attractive. However, he is inimical, poisonous to the body and soul. No one he has ever met has come away whole or hale but most can't bring themselves to blame the poor, tragic survivor. The Last Uchiha.

Sasuke strikes at him, but Itachi evades. Even as the younger Uchiha recovers, Itachi applies force to the back of his brother's neck with the point of his elbow. Crashing down to his knees and dazed, he watches as Itachi calmly steps away, giving his brother time to gather his feet beneath him.

Itachi bites down on his irritation. Last Uchiha indeed. If anything Itachi is the Last Uchiha, the last scion who both remembers and understands their ideals. Even now, he still strives to achieve their goals with a will he cannot deny. The temptation to go beyond is… irresistible, even for one such as him.

Unlike Sasuke, Itachi's elemental nature is iron. Strength, rigidity, resistance. Iron, just like lead, is atomically stable. Things make take a different path to get there, but in the end iron and lead are the result. And just like Sasuke, Itachi was once molded into something too. Forged with carbon ash, iron becomes steel and a whole world of possibilities open. Steel is light, flexible and yet unyielding at the same time, and is used in a plethora of different situations.

Lead, when alloyed with silver, becomes pewter, a far more aesthetically-pleasing derivative. Worked, it becomes something pretty, something worth observing, and perhaps even something worth displaying. Iron doesn't behave like that. Iron is used for practical purposes, function before form is even considered. Itachi has never been anything but a shinobi, never a child, never a friend and certainly never a man.

In his effort to reach the nirvana of existence as a perfect shinobi, he has forgotten about things here and there that normal people take pleasure in and take for granted. The elder Uchiha has never been with a woman, but he cannot bring himself to see a loss in it. He doesn't see this as problem with his masculinity or an inherent flaw of his character, because he can remember women from his adolescence who would have given their whole soul, not disregarding their bodies, to capture him.

Monogamy. There's another thing he doesn't understand, but this stems from the fact Itachi has only ever learned to appreciate a woman for her skills on the battlefield or her capabilities with medical-ninjutsu. (Kunoichi all inevitably take up the path of the medic-nin, just as they are all talented with genjutsu in his experience.) That is not entirely true, but for the sake of avoiding chauvinism, he fails to add 'and her skill at making meals' or 'child-rearing' to the list, despite these being the salient examples of women in his early years. Though he colors it being counter-traditionalist, rather than sexist, because he favors himself a rebel. It's a truth, technically, however, in reality it is a jaunty, idealized view of himself that he carries around, deep in the back of his mind. Despite his best efforts, he can't seem to rid himself of even basic human self-aggrandizement.

Growling, angry now, Sasuke launches himself in his brother's direction, only to have his charge stopped dead by the elder Uchiha's flawless crescent heel kick. Sasuke almost cries out from the pain. Almost. But he bears it and rolls back away from Itachi, then comes in low again and Itachi is forced to defend himself now.

Iron is forged into weapons precisely because it forms and holds an edge. It can be made sharp enough to cut through flesh at the merest touch, and that's what Uchiha Itachi is, a weapon. Sasuke is a weapon as well, but lead is soft and deforms with too much pressure. Iron just holds an edge better.

It makes a better weapon.

Fire washes over him, and Sasuke is thrown to the ground, crossing his arms before his face in a warding gesture to hold away the flames. This blocks his vision for just a moment, and Itachi takes advantage. A dozen senbon needles seemingly sprout from critical locations across his body, pinning joints open and limiting his movement to a scent few degrees in every direction. Only a former ANBU could have known the exact right locations to target and only an Uchiha could have seen them through the flames.

The younger Uchiha collapses under his own weight, unable to shift his legs enough to compensate for his momentum. It drives the senbon under his kneecaps deeper into his skin and now he cries out. It's a soft sound, barely loud enough to be heard, but it carries like a scream and Itachi hears.

"You are nothing," the rogue ninja says. Sasuke stays quiet, because he knows that he's already lost, just as quickly as the fight began it is over. He shifts his head on his neck, only to feel the two senbon there grind against vertebrae. Blood oozes slowly from torn flesh, flowing slowly down to pool between his shoulder blades.

"I should have just killed you along with all the others," Itachi remarks, and Sasuke realizes that his brother is thinking aloud, perhaps for the first time in his life, "Incapable of even following the simplest of orders. Worthless."

This burns Sasuke. It sears him like no flame ever could and a strange burning sensation works its way up his throat. He does not know it is a scream of rage, but he holds it in, for now. It might be vomit, and Sasuke doesn't want to embarrass himself anymore than he already has. Though it could just as easily be a cry of pain or grief, and that's even worse than vomit, in his mind.

"You… bastard…" Sasuke wheezes. Itachi looms over him now, staring at him with those relentless, dead, soulless Sharingan eyes. His thin lips are drawn together in a hard line, curled at one corner ever-so-slightly to express his disgust. His aqualine nose is flared just a bit and the standing man is sneering.

"What would you have me do Sasuke?" Itachi asks, and that's startling, "What would you do if you were in my position?"

Sasuke returns his brother's glare evenly and does not respond. Itachi waits patiently and they stare one another down. The younger brother is at an obvious disadvantage, what with being maimed and bleeding and laying awkwardly on the ground, but Sasuke has been nothing if not stubborn his entire life.

"Go home Sasuke," the older brother says after a pregnant pause, breaking the sharp silence. There is weariness in his words that Sasuke has never heard before and his glare has evaporated now. "Don't come after me again."

Sasuke's heart stops in his throat. His brother is pushing him aside again. The younger man will be forgotten, discarded, in favor of Itachi's self-appointed mission. No, Sasuke thinks, Not again. Not this time. He refuses to be sacrificed or used for his brother's mad plans and shadowy logic anymore. Uchiha Sasuke is going to make his own way in life, and he's going to start by avenging his clan.

That scream of rage finally claws its way out of his mouth as the Uchiha progeny lunges from his prone position, fist preceding body in a chakra-enhanced right hook that lacks both subtlety and defensive capacity, but Sasuke doesn't care anymore. He's tired of running, he's tired of hiding, and above all, he's tired of living miserably.

As though he expected the outburst, Itachi flows around Sasuke's awkward blow, grasping his wrist and pulling hard. Balance lost, the younger Uchiha stumbles forward until his chest presses against his brother's. They are face to face, eyes inches apart.

"Leave." The quiet force that permeates the elder man seems to double in intensity. Sasuke's tired and broken mind is awash with anger, but he's still sharp enough to notice the lack of breath from his brother's mouth. The lack of breath minimizes the noise caused by the use of his mouth. ANBU are commonly taught how to throw their voices and control the sound produced, but Sasuke doesn't know anyone who has ever gone so far as to control every inhalation and exhalation for maximum stealth.

Itachi is the iron forged by the crucible of combat into the steely shinobi before him. The tungsten-carbide coating of experience and training merely coats and protects the Uchiha prodigy, reduces wear and tear accumulated from years on the road and innumerable deaths by his hand. Controlled breathing is as much a part of him as ruthless efficiency or callous indifference. Casually, as though no more concerned with straightening his clothing, Itachi pushes his brother to the ground, purposefully allowing Sasuke to fall hard on the tips of several senbon.

He does not enjoy the look of agony that flashes momentarily across his sibling's face. In truth, Itachi understands why Sasuke tries to hide his pain, especially in front of him. It's a useless effort, because the one still standing has seen all the forms of pain a man can feel, and dealt almost all of them. Sasuke can no more hide the pain he's enduring than he could travel backward in time or discover the secrets of the universe on the back of a milk carton.

Turning away, the Akatsuki member makes as if to leave. He's taken those Sharingan off of his brother, deciding that he poses no threat anymore. It is strange that Itachi allows Sasuke to live, when he has killed so many. During the course of his life, he has killed for money, for vengeance, and most importantly, for power. He has killed when slighted, when insulted, when ignored. He has killed to be noticed, to cause suffering, to fulfill a contract.

But he does not kill Sasuke. Never Sasuke. There are some lines even the Akatsuki will not cross.

The pain Itachi forces Sasuke to endure is a lesson, like everything the elder brother gives the younger. Carefully planned for maximum effect, the grey-haired man molds Sasuke until he becomes something useful, the final tool to unlock what Itachi searches for.

Sasuke lunges from the ground, thrusting a sharpened hunk of steel toward his brother's unprotected back. He is screaming now, partially from pain but mostly out of hate and spite. His brother refuses to die, and Sasuke doesn't understand why he will not fall down dead. The Uchiha progeny needs to move on with his life. This chapter needs to be closed, because Sasuke has other business to attend to, and other people to kill. He can't bear the insomnia, but the teen just goes to pieces when he dreams about it.

He feels the kunai catch for a second, hears the tearing of cloth, and then feels his brother jerk away in a motion almost too clumsy to be Itachi. The hit is scored, and even if it wasn't enough, Sasuke will still be satisfied, because this is closer to his goal than he has ever come before. Whatever consequence he will face, it was worth it.

Momentum unabated, he stumbles forward, those damned senbon pinning his muscles in awkward positions. Unable to maintain his balance, the dark-haired shinobi crashes to the ground once again.

His fingertips are wet with blood, but Itachi stares at them with an almost clinical detachment. It has been a long time since the rogue ninja has seen his own blood. This makes it almost a novelty to him. At the very least, it is thought-provoking and shocking to some degree. In being invincible for so long, Itachi has forgotten how to react to being injured.

It takes him close to three seconds to figure out an appropriate response. But the flesh around the wound is tingling oddly. Dimly, Itachi remembers wounds not feeling quite like that, years ago when he last had one. Forsaking dignity, he checks himself and finds a razor cut along the underside of his left arm. At the edge of his sight, Sasuke is watching with something akin to rapt fascination. He looks delighted at his minor victory, as though a simple scratch could possibly win him the entire battle. The aura of invulnerability is destroyed by just a little nick, and if Sasuke's gone so far, then certainly he can summon the strength to go the last mile.

Itachi cannot have such baseless assumptions. He will not tolerate foolishness from Sasuke. To allow his brother to entertain fanciful illusions would be to destroy all that Itachi has worked for.

So there's only one thing left to do, even though it will cause a set-back to his plans. The time schedule will be thrown completely off, but in retrospect, he guesses that there is nothing he can really do about it. This was inevitable.

Sasuke struggles to his hands and knees, now laughing weakly. He's enjoying his little victory and, quite probably, the last little bit of life he'll get. This is, he thinks, not a bad way to go out. All in all, it is fitting.

Then his brother kicks him in the stomach, hard enough to lift his entire body from the ground and skips him across the clearing floor. He lands on his arm and feels the ribs all down his side vibrate to the impact. Something gives around the senbon in his elbow, ripping the sharpened needle free with a dull sucking noise. Blood pulses freely from the new wound, but Sasuke's pinned his arm under his body and he cannot see it. For that matter, the Uchiha progeny cannot feel the wound either and that bothers him more.

It's not the only needle pulled loose by his wild tumble, but he's merely traded lack of mobility for blood loss. Both of them are equally appealing and yet neither is desirable. Funny that.

Sasuke drags himself back to his knees, pulling his body erect just in time to catch the heel of Itachi's backhanded palm-strike with his mouth. It snaps his head back and ever so slowly he topples backward. Spinning in the reverse direction so fast it seems an illusion, the Akatsuki flicks his foot into the path his brother is taking. His heel strikes a few centimeters beneath Sasuke's left armpit, dashing him down, against the ground. The shorter man bounces once, then comes to a stop.

The breath has been dashed from his lungs and his wide Sharingan are panicked as he gasps for breath that will not come.

He looks up into dual three-armed spirals. Just for a second, he is mesmerized, frozen in unblinking fascination. The natural evolution of his own eyes made manifest before his eyes. Even from this distance, Sasuke can feel the unlocked power, the raw, highly-controlled essence of the Sharingan in his mind, like a burn scar across his psyche.

It is not pleasant. Gritting his teeth, Sasuke forces his eyelids closed, but they only fall halfway. The sclera feels as though it's swelling, filling with fluids until the soft, fleshy orbs can take no more and will burst. Pain rings through his skull and the dull thump of his heart beat fills his ears. Something is on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot expel it from his mouth. His breathing is short and rapid, and soon enough he'll hyperventilate. This is wrong, it's all wrong. Itachi has done something to him, but he cannot understand it. The eyes he prizes so much show him no trickery or technique, but intellectually, he suspects this is some scheme of his brother's design.

Itachi watches, staring with the implacable gaze of the Mangekyou Sharingan, coldly monitoring his brother's internal plight. It's been almost ten years since he grasped the power offered to him with both hands. Now, after much internalizing and self-realization, the grey-haired man has come to be a master of the most powerful Sharingan form. Holding it open is child's play. Seeing the world as it really is does not pose trouble for him.

He can see deep into Sasuke's mind, through the eyes he cannot close. The Mangekyou Sharingan allows him that much control. Pushing past the troublesome guards everyone maintains around their most personal memories is no more difficult than opening a door.

This is not a desirable method of achieving his goals, but if it brings about what he wants, Itachi will finish this unpleasant task. That's the sort of man he is, anything for the mission.

Door opened, Itachi proceeds to examine the contents of Sasuke's mind. Sifting through like a man panning for gold, he holds up each and every one of Sasuke's fuzzy memories to the light, looking for a little glint of what he's hunting.

It feels like a marching band crashing through his childhood. All the most embarrassing and frightening moments of Sasuke's life are relived, though through the haze of time. It's not the Tsukiyomi; these memories do not have the power to hurt. It's in muted color and soft sound, just as Sasuke remembers. But for some reason, they stab his fragile pride like a thousand knives.

Naruto has a thunderous power. I'm inferior. How can I get that sort of power?
I'm an avenger. I'll do anything for power, even if I have to sell my body to the devil himself.

The speed of his flashing memories increases now, and there is a quiet desperation on his brother's face. Whatever he's looking for, he hasn't found yet, and for that Sasuke is thankful. All he needs is to hold out just a little bit longer, just a little bit more time is all he needs. But Itachi increases the pressure of his mental deadlock, pushing past his brother's momentary resistance like a flood crashing over a dam. He's too deep, too quick, too broad for the younger man to hold back, just as he has always been.

Hey… dead-last… what did Sakura tell you?
You won't lay a finger on my forehead.

It's a fever pitch now, memories beginning and terminating before they reach a natural completion. Half his life is being viewed in half an instant. Pain wracks him and he draws his arms about himself as though to ward it off. It does not work.

Then, Itachi finds what he's looking for. A single, fragile memory hidden away at the very back of Sasuke's mind. It was so small, so well hidden, that the Akatsuki almost didn't find it.

For you have become my best friend.

And just as quickly as it began, this phantom pain stops. The mysterious swelling of his eyes subsides and the feeling of broken and cracked ribs floods back. It is agony, but he does not cry out. Sasuke's ears ring with silence, and he's sure his balance is thrown off, but that's alright because whatever his brother did to him is over now.

Itachi is not pleased by what he sees. He found what he is looking for, but it is not as he expects. Nothing… nothing works… everything's broken.

To express the depths of his displeasure, he breaks Sasuke's collarbone. A straight snap kick delivered at the perfect angle and speed to shatter bone, a practiced move from a long-gone day when he used to brutalize prisoners undergoing interrogation. Sasuke's body falls limply backward, tumbling from his knees to his shoulder.

Itachi is angry now, and it shows. His Sharingan eyes have narrowed to venomous crimson slits. He can't remember the last time he was this furious, this wild and out-of-control. The stone walled persona he has built around himself is crumbling, the flames inside licking higher than ever before. He is incensed and only blood and pain will sate his fury.

Sasuke's bleary eyes open just in time to see Itachi reach down for a handful of his raven hair, the same distinctive every-which-way mop of blackness every girl looked for and every boy hated. The strands pull tight against the thin skin atop his skull as he is lifted bodily. He's gone comfortably numb, though, and makes no attempt to stop his brother from beating the living shit out of him.

Itachi pulls back a fist, all finesse and form gone in the haze of anger, but dark blue chakra coalesces around the tightly-clenched fingers. Even so far gone in his madness, the rogue ninja still perfectly controls his chakra with the mindless direction of an automaton.

Fist cocked, the clear victor sends it crashing into the loser's face, releasing the hair at the exact right moment to ensure the maximum degree of whiplash. He feels Sasuke's nose break as the fist skips across an eye socket too small to accommodate it. He suspects he hit his brother hard enough to give him a concussion as well. Sasuke reels, then makes as if to collapse again. Gods, how he wishes he could pass out… but he's not that lucky, evidently.

He could end it now. All he would have to do is draw a kunai across Sasuke's all-too-exposed, all-too-pale throat and call it a day. But he does not. Death would be too good for his foolish little brother, after all the trouble he's caused for Itachi.

But his torment is far from over.

Lunging forward in an obscure style of taijutsu that the Sharingan master knows perfectly, he slams the point of his bent knee into the hunter-nin's sternum. It throws Sasuke like a rag-doll, end over end, for several meters, ending face up.

Itachi is on top of him before he stops rolling. A leg shoots up, freezing for a long moment in Sasuke's field of vision, threatening and promising all in one fluid motion. Then it descends silently, without warning. The heel strikes Sasuke dead amidships, and something soft inside breaks. The force of the blow curls him up around the offending foot for a moment, and then Sasuke goes slack once again. Still he does nothing.

It is this passive resistance that irritates Itachi more than anything else. Amazing as it is, such a simple action as doing nothing sums up Sasuke perfectly. He sits in one place, never moving, never changing but always letting others change him. The growth or loss is never by his own hand, always provoked by another. Kakashi, Naruto, Sakura, Orochimaru, all perpetuators of his rise to the top, but none more important than Itachi.

When he should be fighting, Sasuke meekly lays back and accepts what comes as fate or destiny. The Uchiha were better than that, stronger than that.

And Itachi hits him again, if only to drive that point in just a little deeper. We are stronger. And again. We can overcome anything. And again.It's funny that Sasuke, so steeped in his own righteous indignation over revenge for the clan, does not understand Itachi's motives. When it should be so clear, so maddeningly simple, Sasuke fails to see… and Itachi cannot discern why. The lessons are not flawed, and the success of the method is in the archives, so the fault must lay with the student.

He grasps his kid brother by the throat, pulling him from the soft ground and slamming him against the nearest tree trunk ruthlessly. It is of little matter that he carries his brother essentially at arm's length for ten meters before he contacts this tree. Sasuke feels the rough bark break free, splintering in his skin. His older brother has been less than kind to his face, but he's so dazed right now he can't feel the blood run from his mashed lips or broken nose. Head lolling on his neck, Sasuke hangs pinned by the neck to a redwood.

Never being the sort to admire his handiwork, the S-class missing-nin is surprised to find he cannot help but look.

Their faces should be nearly identical, what with the propensity of the Uchiha clan to 'keep it in the family' and the closeness of their countenances at a young age. Sasuke merely lacks the thin lines that run beneath Itachi's high-born cheekbones.

Itachi lacks the broken nose, ruined lips, swollen left eye, gash across his forehead, and bloody crimson patina coating his chin and chest. But everything is relative, he realizes and it is of minimal importance. Sasuke bleeds from a dozen different wounds, both internally and externally, but he has neither passed out from the pain nor collapsed from blood-loss. All of this evidence supports Itachi's suspicions, but does not eliminate the obvious failure that the hunter-nin represents.

In just continuing to breathe, Sasuke makes Itachi a failure. The greatest mistake he ever made. Now having tasted the heights of hubris, enjoyed the forbidden fruit of vainglory, Itachi is older and wiser now. He's twenty-seven, and that's too old to be messing around with Sasuke like two brothers wrestling. Though, he admits, this is hardly play and far from the normal sort of sibling rivalry most children endure.

"Why do you continually disappoint me?" Itachi asks, leaning close to Sasuke's dulled onyx eyes, still seeing the little spark of consciousness hidden in their glossy depths. The question is unimportant. Itachi already knows the answer, just as he always has. Fragile as the flame of hope is, it is all that has kept the elder man pushing the younger one to succeed.

"Weak," he hisses, answering his own question. The truth is a harsh pill for him to swallow, though Sasuke still seems too far gone in the pain to really register the slight. His brother was never capable of following in his footsteps, a flaw either by design of the clan before the massacre or mere Sasuke's misguided attempt at crippling himself to spite Itachi.

He is a great possessor of cruelty, Uchiha Itachi. But it is rational, applied with straightforward logic, and delivered with practical efficacy. His brother is now useless… he bites his lower lip, the only outward sign of his frustration at the admission… has always been useless. And he never saw it before. Sloppy. Careless. If he were still an ANBU, he would have severally dressed-down someone trying to pull that sort of shit in his unit.

The alternative has been progressing nicely, though. His mind skips away from the limp shinobi pinned before him and to another promising candidate. For a moment, the most dangerous man alive considers the ramifications of abandoning his work with Sasuke in favor of his second-string choice. Theoretically, even with a crippled form of the Sharingan, the subject should be capable of providing what Itachi needs. The patterns are all right there, laid out so conveniently in Mangekyou Sharingan construction and, as a whole, chakra theory itself. If he wanted to get technical, he didn't even need a Sharingan user for his plans, but they were the easiest for him to manipulate, control, and ultimately, expend. Like attracts like and all.

The loss of time is the most infuriating part. He is a patient man, willing to wait as long as it takes, but that doesn't mean he enjoys every second of not getting what he wants.

On the other hand, Sasuke's reaction should be well-worth the wasted years. Yes. This is a suitable course of action. With the decision made, Itachi turns back to the task in hand.

He forces Sasuke's face up, smearing the sticky, already-drying blood from his brother's chin to his hand. Sasuke weakly attempts to jerk his head from Itachi's grasp because he knows what's coming, but the hold is like iron. Relentless, just like iron. That pleases Itachi on some baser level he does not acknowledge.

"Let me show you something, otouto," their eyes meet and the Mangekyou Sharingan opens fully.

"Tsukiyomi."

Weak as he is, Sasuke finds the strength to cry out.

Weak as he may be, his screams carry for miles.


"Hide your wickedness behind closed doors, skulk beneath the earth, even conspire in the land of the dead if you wish – it will avail you not. You may conceal your evil from the light of the Unconquered Sun, but you cannot evade his eyes."
- Credo of the Iron Wolves, Night Caste Solar Exalted.

The rain was cold that night, but the four ANBU huddled in a tight circle didn't seem to mind.

One ANBU, wearing a fox mask gestured at a small diagram he was shielding from the wind and rain with his body, "Alright, we know the current location of the target. Neji's isolated them in a small tavern at the other end of town. We're gonna go in fast and hard, so go full stealth until the absolute last moment."

The eagle-masked ANBU nodded shortly, while the dog-masked one chuckled. His ninja-dog ally whined softly, tired of being wet and cold and impatient to get this over with. The hunter-nin said nothing, but Fox didn't expect him to.

"Kiba, you're covering the rear with Akamaru," Dog sighed, not really satisfied with covering the back exit, "I want a body-count of one this time, guys! Neji, you're mobile resource. Move to where you're needed and keep the civilians out of the hands of this bitch. I will be really unhappy if we have a hostage situation on our hands," Eagle nodded again, but crosses his arms. Anyone who knew Eagle casually would say that this was a sign of displeasure. Fox knew better, because Eagle's arms are always crossed. His taijutsu style has a beginning stance based around having crossed arms. But in truth, he was irritated at having a supporting role in this fight. It made sense to him, of course, because their team lacked a medic-nin right now, and they were days from the warm welcome of Konoha Hospital. Better that Fox, far and away the most durable member of the team, lead off. Loss leader was an effective technique, especially if the leader was capable of surviving the hit.

Fox gestured to Hunter-nin almost casually. 'Almost' because there was a very short hesitation at the beginning of the motion, something that wouldn't normally be noticed by members of his team. But nothing about this mission was normal, and everyone was on edge.

"Sasuke, you're on Overwatch. I want you in position to watch both exits and the street," their eyeless masks studiously avoided meeting and there was an audible increase in aerial tension, "If you see anything out of ordinary, you break radio silence and report it. Keep your eyes open for any friends our target might have."

Hunter-nin stayed silent, so Fox went on, "Alright, I want everyone in position in two minutes. Until we hit the target, the radio is strictly off-limits."

They stood, solemn in the knowledge that they would soon take another life.

"Anyone have anything to say before we do this thing?" and when no one did, the Fox gestured them away. Eagle and Dog disappeared without a word, content in the knowledge that the mission was almost over. Just this last little stretch and the hunt was complete.

Hunter-nin and Fox were left alone for now.

"Sasuke, do you understand?" Fox asked. When Hunter-nin didn't answer right away, the ANBU commander cut in again, "You understand the plan… right?" The Fox's tone of voice was carefully neutral but the hesitation implies condescension. For the last month of the mission, Hunter-nin and Fox have been at each other's throats night and day.

Hunter-nin stiffened for just a second, but then it was gone. "Hn…" and then he was gone, offering no other explanation or excuse, the word a mere afterthought.

Any scorn inferred was purposeful. The team-leader was tired of sleeping on the cold, hard ground, tired of taking watch, tired of chasing shadows and talking in whispers. He was tired of being responsible for his teammates' lives, tired of flitting from place to place, tired of being unable to sit down and take off his boots. He can't remember the last time he had a good, hot bath or when he sat down at to a warm meal made with a proper kitchen. Those ANBU rations just suck.

But most of all, he's fed up… with Hunter-nin's mask, actually. The problem with every member of the team wearing a mask at every waking moment is never knowing what they're really thinking. Any ANBU worth his salt can mask his voice to make it unreadable, but the true difficulty is masking your facial expressions. Given that Fox has worked with Eagle, Dog, and (as much as he hates admitting it) Hunter-nin for years, he knows their every move, every expression and can picture them in his mind with a startling clarity for a person who cannot even remember what he ate for lunch. They cannot hide their expressions from him at such a critical junction as this, but he's not entirely sure he can handle masks-off.

He is fed up, fed up with feeling eyes across his back whenever he looks away, fed up with noncommittal answers, fed up with that stupid scowl he knows is under that blank mask whenever he gives orders, fed up with that superior smirk that he knows is there whenever Hunter-nin shows him up. He's fed up with the petulant sulking and the borderline-insubordination that Hunter-nin applies to every aspect of this mission.

Fox wants to go home. He misses Konoha, draws his strength from the place and the people therein. He's feeling weak, drained and exhausted, and all he can think about is home. He's been away for so long. In his childhood, how many times had he toddled away from Leaf village for an extended period of time? So many that he has lost count. His memory was never very good anyway.

He misses all his friends, the pseudo-family he's built over the years, protected and cultivated with the same firm and loving hand. But above all, he misses his pink-haired woman.

But she's a touchy subject for Hunter-nin, so Fox makes very, very sure not to mention just how much he misses her because that's not a confrontation he wants to have. Ever.

But even doubly so on a mission. Neither of them need a distraction with an enemy the caliber of ex-Akatsuki on the loose.

He takes a breath. This operation is a minute-thirty in, but Fox doesn't have to be in place for the final second. When he moves, the fight begins. 'First in to the fire, last one to leave' is the first rule of the ANBU captain and one Fox holds very dear to his heart.

Releasing both breath and tension, the blonde man steels his indefatigable supply of nerve and begins to move, quick and quiet in the ways the ANBU have taught him. An invisible streak to all unaided observers, the Fox moves with preternatural deftness, his feet never faltering. Gliding silently through the trees like mist over still water, he is poetry in motion, just like a shinobi should be.

A pair of Sharingan eyes watches him, as they always have. There is no chance the raven-haired Hunter-nin will be spotted, because he's an expert in the ways of stealth and his commander is not actively looking for him. Behind his mask, the handsome face all the ladies fell for was drawn up in a grimace.

"I know you're not a regular ANBU, so I'll go easy on you, seeing as you're not used to working with a team…" Naruto began,"but if you fuck up and get somebody killed, I'll personally have your ass on a spit. Do you understand me?"

He sneered out a 'che' and turned away. But Naruto was not satisfied with that answer.

Spinning his dark-haired rival around, Naruto began again, a bit more forcefully this time, "Get this straight, Sasuke, I don't care what's going on between us. We're supposed to be professionals. When we're on this mission, I'm the captain and you're my ANBU. You shut up and follow my orders and everything will be alright, you got me?"

"Aa," Sasuke ground out, his teeth clenched tightly behind his mask. How dare Naruto pull rank on him like that?

"I'm responsible for all your lives," Naruto said, repeating the words Shikamaru had said on that fateful day so long ago, but altered to demonstrate why Uzumaki Naruto was the Commander of the ANBU and no other, "and we're all coming home alive, you understand?"

"Clear," Sasuke said, then without waiting for an acknowledgment of his acknowledgment, he returned to surveying his supplies.

Out of the corner of his eye, he clearly saw Naruto clench his fist and take a half-step toward him before thinking better of it and going off to bother Hyuuga Neji.

Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth, where his lip has been bitten hard enough to bleed. It smears against the inside of his mask where it presses against his chin.

Uchiha Sasuke waits, because he has learned the value of patience. Silence has taught him that much, and he has bowed his head to it and found its wisdom. He will wait for the right time and then make his move. Over the years and the numerous losses he has accumulated against Itachi, Orochimaru, Akatsuki, and Uzumaki Naruto himself, Sasuke has learned to see the weaknesses of combatants, both his own and his enemy's.

Just a little bit longer, and he'll make his move. And when that happens, everything will have been worth it.


Author's Notes:

I'll start with a disclaimer, which I don't generally add, but I'm sure you are all familiar with my views on those in general. I think, in this situation, it will help clear up some questions about my feelings on Naruto as a whole.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the ideas/archetypes/characters represented therein. If I did own it, I can tell you that it would, over all, make a hell of a lot more sense.

With that out of the way, I will start by saying that some people might have taken offense at the amount of Sasuke-crucifying I've done in this chapter. This is purposeful, though probably influenced by my intense loathing of that bastard. This is now a bon-a-fide AU, so I can do anything I want as long as I stay true to the characters. That's okay, I planned on doing just that. Now, to address the borderline-Sasuke bashing, I'll say that the storyline of the manga is set up perfectly for Sasuke-bashing. I'm actually pulling the punches here, people. The only reason the manga doesn't take pot-shots at Sasuke is because instead of making good and proper decisions, the leaders of Konoha village are morons. Every single freaking one of them. So the damn kid can get away with just about anything and never face consequences.

I will say only one thing: ANBU are the true military force of the Leaf, so where the fuck are they? Exactly. I'm glad we see eye-to-eye now.

Others might complain at how long my work is, especially Asinine Rationalizations. You'll notice that this chapter, called 'Intermission A' is longer than the first chapter and is comprised entirely of scenes taken out of context and out of chronological order. This takes some thinking, but if you can watch Pulp Fiction and understand what the hell is going on, I'm sure you'll be able to take a step back and think this through. Should you object to thinking, however, get the hell out and never come back. You will, however, notice that it's called 'Intermission A' and not just 'Intermission.' This is, again, purposeful. I have a lot of ideas and being an engineer by trade, I do not feel right leaving anything half-finished. Every so often, I plan to throw an intermission chapter in, which will provide scenes from the past, hints, clues to the story, and overall build a framework of back-story for the stuff going on in the foreground.

Settle in for the long-haul. I don't expect this to be over before 4-5 more plot chapters and 2-3 more intermissions. That's probably because I'm tired of writing one-shots and posting them separately. I'll just write everything I want to for this continuity and put it all in one place. I'll probably change the title for this fic eventually.

Others might raise objections to the plot. I'll retort by asking what you say about both artistic license and creative freedom. And, we can't forget, the overwhelming evidence that I'm correct. More on that some other time. If you have a valid complaint about it, that's fine. Go ahead and review and make mention of it. I can't say that I'll take your comments into account when I write the next chapter, because honestly, I don't know if I'll give them the time of day. But you will at least have the satisfaction of knowing that you tried.

Still others might complain about the stuff I'm doing with Naruto. I'll shrug and tell you to wait for it, just like everyone else. It's happening, and that's all I'll give you.

Lastly, I think I'd like to do something else I've never done before. Add a dedication. It may not have come out exactly as we expected, it may not have come out as you want it, and I'm not sure if it's good enough to warrant a dedication, but here it goes.

The SOC Puppet. For always inquiring into the state of my writing and for never letting me forget to work on this fic, I dedicate this chapter to you. This, of course, does not mean I believe you about the clout thing. But hey, whatever.

Retroactively, I'll dedicate the last chapter to Black, who gave me, by far, the funniest review. How's this for blast? And you'll probably notice that I didn't give any sort of closure on the mission or on Itachi's fight with that Mist-nin. That's alright. I'm letting you imagine those for yourself, so I don't have to write them.

I think that's all for this time. Don't squander your lives… or some such inspirational drivel.