Author's Note: Slap me. Seriously, slap me. I had been on a roll as far as updates go, but then suddenly, wham. It happened. Writer's block. I'm so sorry for the wait, and even more sorry if this chapter's not all it's cracked up to be. I honestly did put effort into it, and I tried not to make it super short. It is what it is, I guess. Hopefully the next will be out sooner. Again, sorry.

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Chapter: 6

Posted: 5/03/06

Chapter Rating: T

Warning: Mild blood

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Konoha's Broken Feet

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Apparently, "inspection" meant un-volunteered suicide in this place.

The man whom I could only imagine was Saskue's brother led me through some sort of crevice in the rock—a cave. I didn't bother to certify my guesses. I was scared, but more than that, I was hungry and miserable and felt like I was going to vomit on the tail end of his pretty cloak.

I kept my head down and stepped around the footprints he made in the loose-packed dirt.

Some of the entrances to rooms, I noticed, were too unshaped to install doors. Thin fabric was hung along the outlines, separating the rooms. I soon grew tired of swatting the cloth away and allowed it to brush past my face. It made my hair stand on end.

I nearly bumped into the Uchiha man when he stopped. I realized my eyes were half-closed and felt them widen, wiping over the room with a quick glance. I didn't register anything.

"There are five men before you." I yanked my eyes upward as the Uchiha spoke. "I expect you to heal each one to his fullest extent."

But I'm hungry, I wanted to moan, but I saw he was already gone, swirling away like some little cyclone. I looked at the men and knew they had no plans on feeding me.

I felt the voice inside me fume around my head. Idiot! Don't you know that people need to eat I dispelled the urge to clutch my stomach as I looked over the cluster of heads.

Some looked more tolerant than others, but they were all so overwhelming to me. I didn't survey them much because I didn't expect to spend a whole lot of time with them.

They all wore the red-cloud Akatsuki robes.

"Girl." One man with a swab of cloth around his head began to stand. I blinked tiredly at him. "Girl, fix this." He held out his arm.

The bottom half was cut off. Blood everywhere.

The others were rising in their seats, their voices melding together. "Fix us," one said. "We're broken."

"You are broken, Little Flower."

"Fix us."

I woke up suddenly, though I stayed still for a very long time. My breathing came roughly, and the sounds it made filled my ears. I looked around.

Kisame stood at the door of my cell, handling an iron chair. "Are you prepared to see the boy?" he asked me.

I stared at him for a long moment before rubbing my face in my hands. By the time my eyes were open again, I was composed. I told him yes.

He wheeled the chair to me.

………

He held a grudge with pushing me around, I could tell. It was the way he grumbled.

Kisame scared the hell out of me, but not so much that I wasn't free to my own thoughts. I didn't have the guts to directly speak to him, of course, but there was something keeping him from looking like a complete monster in my eyes. It was the interaction between us, maybe. The fact that there was another speaking being lopping about somewhere in this place.

Strangely, I wasn't afraid he was going to kill me. He was taking me to Sasuke—that was all I could think about. The probability of death could—would—come later.

The halls were different than the ones in my dream. It seems while my prison had been all stone and decrepidness, not everything in this cave-mountain was cold. There was filed bamboo stalk on the floors; various carvings on the walls. Long, long halls with many doors. They used a lot of wood.

The wheelchair was uncomfortable, though I didn't complain. Sitting up and moving—it felt so good. I wanted to hug something, though my ricocheting heart kept the urge from growing.

I almost felt I was in a sort of alternate reality. None of this felt real; my actions had no consequence.

Shark-man churned the wheelchair to a halt outside a small, whitewood door, and I sat up a little straighter. Suddenly I felt terrified. What if they didn't intend to lead me to Sasuke? What if they really wanted me to heal their men? What if—

Kisame opened the door.

When he wheeled me in, I thought we were going through another hall, it was so dark. My eyes soon adjusted, however, and I saw that the opposing walls were wide and far enough away to form a shallow room. A bedroom. I saw the four-poster bed in the corner and the bookshelf standing beside it.

Of course, my eyes automatically went to the bed, but there was no one lying there.

Kisame wheeled me to a long something in the far corner. Some kind of chest. It was pretty, but he keyed it and flipped the lid before I could further admire it. He left the room.

Fabric. There was a lot of fabric in the chest. Bending over the arm of the chair to rifle through it, I willed myself not to be disappointed. Honestly, what had I been expecting?

I saw his skin first. It was very white, as was his face, after I'd uncovered it. I put a hand to my mouth.

Sasuke looked like he was sleeping, with his nearly shut eyes and his hair all fanned out on the red and gold and blue clothes. Carefully, I reached my fingers to his cheek, but there was no heat there. It felt like pliable plastic under my hand. Still, I didn't cry.

"It has a strange counter-effect, the Mangekyou." I felt his chakra consuming space in the room even as I heard his voice. I tore my eyes from Sasuke's face and turned, watching him watching me.

I couldn't keep the eye contact between us and turned my head to the chest, leaning out of my chair again. I didn't know what to say first. Sasuke's dead, like you said he'd be. That was the closest remark to my tongue, but I swallowed it down.

If I wasn't scared before, I was now. No one—no one—could kill Sasuke. It couldn't happen.

"Why do you not speak?" The man, the one who did this, came close, his shadow melting through the dark. Though I wouldn't look at him or his brother, I couldn't help but see his white arm reach across Sasuke's face. He pulled the pale eyelids open, and they stared up at me.

You've finally found me, they seemed to say.

I found Sasuke.

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They curved gracefully, up, up, higher and higher. Black and purple. Swirls. So graceful. First across his cheek, under his eyes. Across his shoulder, down his arm. Around his neck in riveting circles. Along the veins on the back of his hand. Red eye. Black eye.

"I'm an aveng—"

I stirred with a jolt, pulling my weight off the metal arm. My wheelchair swayed, and I steadied it with my hands, half in a stupor. I was so tired.

My legs tingled and my head reeled. Feeling disarmed, my eyes went over the younger Uchiha's white, white face. A pleasant feeling whorled deep in my stomach before twisting around on itself and dying away. My throat constricted.

He was just a boy. My Sasuke. Dry sobs come to my eyes, but no tears would spill and make things better. Damnit it, God. I hate you. I hate…

Itachi. The name came to me for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long. I had forgotten it all this time, but that was his name, wasn't it? No longer would I know him as "the-man-who-looks-like-Sasuke." He had a name now, a face.

I would kill him. Not now, but later. I would rip him apart.

Right now, though—I would keep Sasuke company. I pinched the tender underneath of my arm hard, hoping to bring tears. It didn't take much.

I'm an aveng—

I'm an avenger.

I'm avenging.

Avenging.

"Come." I looked over the back of my chair at the shark-man's silhouette framed in the doorway. He was so big. "I'm to show you the situation," he growled, his eyes glaring daggers.

I subconsciously touched Sasuke's cool, plasticky arm with my fingers, not wanting to be separated again. But Kisame lumbered behind me and grasped the handles of the chair, wheeling me forward. I pressed my hands against the wheels but pulled them back when they burned against the rubber.

"Stop," I coughed with a dry mouth. Shark man kept his silence—why did these people not listen to me? Suddenly we were out of the room, in the hall. Wicked lamps made my vision bright, and I screwed my eyes shut. Splotches flashed in the soft skin beneath my eyelids.

The moving motion of the wheels against the wood floor kept my mind moving. I was so disoriented, so wrung out, that I couldn't think straight. I willed the moving to stop. I was almost surprised when it didn't.

I heard a grunt from above me and found myself being wheeled into a small room. A bathroom. Kisame said something before leaving me alone in the stuffy place.

I stared at the opposite wall in blank disbelief. I could have sworn he'd just said, "Get ready for dinner." Twisting around, I tried the doorknob, but it was locked from the outside. Of course. I turned back to the bathroom.

I held no interest in preening myself—I wanted to stay with Sasuke. I tried the door again, but it was still locked, and I let my hand slide off the handle.

Who would need to mail me? I wanted to know, but there wasn't an addressee on the back, just a sadly blank, white space. That frustrated me as I squeezed myself between the sheets of my bed and pulled the chord to my lamp so that it turned on. The light made the paper look even paler, dingier, than before. I tore it open.

I had made a mistake. I was here now, though, and I would have to do something. Take Sasuke's body back.

But you can't walk. The small voice behind my ears came out to chatter. You're paralyzed. I had never thought of it that way before, and the thought froze me.

How could I train with Tsunade-sama if I couldn't use my legs? How was I supposed to become a part of ANBU someday? My entire life relied on my legs… These legs. I rubbed them offhandedly with my fists. I didn't feel anything.

Would I die here like Sasuke? Would I be stuffed into a clothing chest?

I had been so safe in Konoha. So stupid. I wished I could go back in time and prevent myself from ever leaving my mother's house. Stop, I would say. Get back in bed. But for someone so remarkably intelligent, I lost my wits so easily.

I looked around the room, feeling my eyelids sagging. There was a mirror to my right, hung over a pearly-gray sink. A wooden, covered washtub sat in the opposite corner. Facing me was a toilet. Careful to steady my arms, I lifted the lid and slowly shifted my weight onto the seat, pushing the wheelchair away so that it squealed across the floor and bumped into the door.

When I had relieved myself and successfully transferred my backside into the chair again, I contemplated what I was to do. I had to leave. And I had to bring Sasuke with me. With these legs, however, there would be a zero chance of escape. I would have to wait, then. Wait for Kakashi-sensei and the others to arrive, biding my time and not getting myself killed. I scratched dust out of my hair, contemplating this as I looked up.

I stared back at my own reflection in the mirror. I couldn't believe how shiny and pale my face looked. I hated it. Warily, my eyes glanced over the washtub. A quick rinse wouldn't hurt, would it? I probably reeked by now, after my time in that god-forsaken cell.

Pushing off of the sink, I scooted towards the tub. There was a faucet installed (thank God), and I had only a little difficulty reaching over the brim to twist the handles. I held my forearm beneath the water as the stream grew warm.

I was eager to get the sticky, grimy clothes off my being, and so I stripped quickly, my eyes locked on the door until I was comfortably submerged. The water was so clear that I could see the little particles of dust and dead skin floating off of me. Modesty compelled me to bend over myself as I scrubbed my hair clean.

It was around this time that I heard the rustle of clothing and looked up.

It took me a minute to find it, but draped over the sink's basin was a Konoha hitai-ate. My hitai-ate, I realized.

As I wheeled myself over and took the cloth in my hand, my eyes caught on something else. A note.

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Author's Note: All right, the next chapter should be the beginning of the "explaining" side of the plotline. And don't worry (or maybe you should…), because Sasuke does have a role in the plot. I understand he's dead; I'm not crazy. It'll work.

As far as reviews go, I was ecstatic with the 7 reviews you guys sent over for the last chapter! Speaking of crazy, you guys need to get lives! No, I'm kidding – I'm very, very grateful that you all have taken the time to tell me what you think.

Now, on to the reviews…

DarkNightDreamer: Like I said, Sasuke is one of the main characters in this story. I'm not, however, going to have one of those, "I wasn't dead – I had just bumped my head really hard and fell unconscious for two weeks," kind of things. Anyway, thank you for coming back; I appreciate it!

SasukeLuver678: Thank you for the review, lady. I'm finding it very difficult working with Sakura, as her character is one of the more realistically portrayed in the anime and manga: her personality changes with the environment. She really had only a few set emotions that replay themselves enough to rely on, so it's been kind of difficult for me. I'm glad it's coming across well, though – thanks.

Ragnarok-The Fallen Angel: I was thinking of having Sasuke come back from the dead in the body of a goldfish, but I was afraid that'd be a teeny bit far-fetched. Maybe something like a gazelle would be more believable, you know?

agent-doo: The reason why I chose her legs to be disabled will become apparent in later chapters. Thanks very much for reviewing: had I not received so many comments, I most likely had stopped working on the story once my "writer's block" started up.

Hopeless Romantic2: I don't have anonymous reviews set? Thank you for telling me… I'll go fiddle around with my account and see what I can do.

Cold Fire Phoenix: If you loved me before, I don't think you love me now. So much for being industrious. Anyway, I'm not too pleased with how this particular chapter shaped out, so you may not want to even bother combing through it. I'll probably revise it sometime before/after I have the next one uploaded. My grammar went out the window a few days ago. Anyway, moving on to your definition of Itachi, I don't think I could agree more. While it may annoy readers, I plan on sporting a few flash-back chapters (don't kill me) on Sasuke and Itachi's childhood, something that would better explain my reasoning for Itachi's later actions towards the clan. While the whole "testing his container" thing may be believable, I have a feeling that there's a deeper meaning to why Itachi did the things he did, and I plan on further working with the idea. I haven't an clue what conclusion will be had, but if you have any thoughts on the subject, please share!

That was one of the longest review-replies I've ever written.

onlyhalfvampire: Last but not least. That's true – I could have given Sakura prosthetic legs, but I had a feeling neither Itachi, Kisame, nor any of the other Akatsuki would wish to spend that much money on a captive. A mangled, old wheelchair was the best I could come up with.

Chapter 7 will be online someday. Someday soon. I'm keeping my goal at 5 reviews, but only because I like to be pleasantly surprised.