Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Distant Brother
Canon Manga Info: Sasuke's exceptional Chakra Control (CC) in this fiction isn't something I've made up to exalt him. Canonically, Sasuke's CC and Ninjutsu-skill in handling regular, Bijū, and Senjutsu Chakra's unrivalled and at the Sage of the Six Paths level. It's well above and beyond anything Naruto and Sakura can manage—in fact, any character save the Sage and Kaguya can manage. The gulf between their skills is insurmountable.
This was stated by Kurama when Sasuke balanced and controlled the Bijū chakra perfectly and created a Pseudo-Mazō out of his Perfect Susanoo (PS): an impossible feat without the Gedō Mazō itself. He applied extremely advanced Spatial and Elemental Re-composition to turn that entire chakra, which he'd placed inside the Mazō-PS, into Raiton. That's how he created Raiton Senbons and Indra's Arrow; and he created both of these techniques on the battlefield; furthermore, he didn't even absorb this chakra into his body; no, he amassed the Bijū chakra, kneaded it all at once, and applied Spatial and Elemental Re-composition to it outside his body. This is the kind of feat only Kaguya and Hagoromo have performed: the advanced elemental- and shape-changing of chakra outside the chakra-system; however, Sasuke had done this in early Shippūden: Kirin.
In the manga, it's Raiton "forking" out of the naked back of this PS. Sasuke went even beyond that when he Spatially Recomposed it first into a Spear; and then he created a "bow and an arrow" out of it, "Indra's Arrow", and determined the "strength and scope" of the attack—something that's pivotal to how much chakra needs to be discharged. He even made "Raiton Senbons" out of it. He also reversed "The Creation of All Things" Jutsu—Sage's most profound accomplishment. These are several complex tasks being done and abilities being created (out of scratch as Sasuke had no knowledge on any of them) simultaneously, without aid! Name me a single character in the manga, save Kaguya, that accomplished even a tiny part of this at the tender age of seventeen; because when Sage of the Six Paths created that infamous Jutsu, he was but an old man with years' worth of experience and a ripe Rinnegan (Kurama stated that Sasuke's Rinnegan was new and wasn't ripe enough, and still he accomplished all this in mere moments)! (Not a single Ninja even scratches the surface of the brilliance Sasuke displayed, before Kurama finished his statement!)
It actually shocked Kurama given that it always balances, kneads, and prepares the core chakra for Naruto. Even the Three-Headed Avatar wasn't made by Naruto nor was the Natural Energy amassed and balanced by him to counter Sasuke's Indra's Arrow. (Hagoromo's chakra is also Natural Energy based as he's a direct descendent of Jūbi, which is why Sasuke was able to create Black Raiton; he could only accomplish that when his Cursed Seal was active, which is Senjutsu-based.) Kurama managed both (the other tailed-beasts kneaded their chakra for his previous feats). Even the chakra for the last clash that took out their arms was kneaded by Kurama. Whereas Sasuke held two techniques side by side, without combining them in a single hand: Enton and Chidori. Something no one has ever done—as the Jutsus were not combined. There's a reason why Orochimaru and Tobirama both praised Sasuke for his skill in Senjutsu, Ninjutsu, and Chakra Control; the latter went as far as to state that he'd never seen anyone control the chakra as effectively as Sasuke, and Tobirama's a man who's fought Uchihas in wars all his life.
Not to mention Kurama's Lord knows how old, and Sasuke's the only one to display such skill and control over chakra; hence, keep this canon logic in mind. Nothing is being exaggerated with regards Sasuke's skill in Senjutsu, Ninjutsu (including Body Flicker), and CC; all of that's Canon as Sasuke mastered the Clan's "Rite of Passage" Katon technique at a tender age of five (or six)—without any training from his father (oral instructions aren't training)—when learning and combining Nature and Spatial transformation's (along with the chakra's Spiral Patterning) a feat above A-Rank (according to Kakashi), and it takes years to hone it; yet Sasuke managed that within a week, at the age of five! Also, Sasuke knew how to channel regular and elemental chakra through instruments long before he joined the academy; his battle with Orochimaru should be enough to clarify this; furthermore, he also learnt all of Uchiha Katon Jutsus on his own. His clan was slaughtered when he was seven, remember?
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Rain slackened and floated down in a misty drizzle. Dulled sounds from the stream, slapping against the lips of stones outside, rushed in through the window: it was barred with thick square wooden-gratings and not large enough for an adult to slip out.
Droplets tinkled against the heavily tiled roof and crawled in through the gaps around the window. Thunder cracked and rolled, and that made him restless as his body slightly twitched on the futon. He was still unconscious, but the sounds disturbed him whilst he existed in the mind's deeps . . .
The sturdy prison door was left open, and rain-cooled air made it in, blowing strong. Yuu heard the sounds of sandals against the wet floor outside, and, in the next moment, Itachi appeared at the door. He did not look any less unnatural than he did last night. It was difficult to free his face from indifference's clutches. He looked at the small puddle of water below the window, and his frown deepened still more.
"Why have you—" Itachi stopped, and his eyes stopped, too, as they fell upon Sasuke's face: Sasuke's eyes were wide open and he was not blinking.
The cold expression left his countenance as if split from it like a piece of flesh from fish, and he breathed forth a quick gasp before he could control his mouth to swallow it. Then, suddenly, something like shock came to his face and invaded his indifference. Itachi went to Sasuke and sat down and his hand moved reflexively to press tightly against Sasuke's bandaged breast; that was when he noticed the powerful jump of Sasuke's heart and the slow heave of his breast; Sasuke was breathing slowly—very slowly.
Itachi's eyes closed; and, laying his hand upon his closed eyes, he let out a solemn breath that was deep and slow. He really had not noticed Sasuke's breathing . . . he was alive. Itachi kept sitting like this for a few moments, his hand on Sasuke's breast as if to count his breaths and beats. Then he drew it back, and his other one slipped down from his own face. He gazed at Yuu's face, which showed a little surprise. Itachi appeared calm and cool now. That emotion had passed from his features.
"Is that why you called me down here?" Itachi asked, his voice as slow as his breath. Then he moved his eyes back to Sasuke's face. It was expressionless. He did not look in pain, but it did not seem as though he was in a state of peace, either. His eyes were focused on something on the ceiling—red, but without a touch of anger and danger. There was dried blood about his nose, lips, and chin. Even the bandages that swathed his breast were spotty at some places. The stains, crusty and red like old tiles.
"Why is he like this? I-I've tried everything, but his eyes won't close," Yuu said, a bit meekly, and lowered his gaze to his hands. He was holding onto a clean bandage.
"He is in distress," he spoke. "It happens sometimes. The Sharingan answers to emotions. His eyes will close when the pain fades."
"I . . . I—a'right," he said in a choked voice and listened to the pittering and pattering. It provided a good distraction for his thoughts.
"You have not washed his face clean?" he asked and pulled up the bandage slightly. It was tight around Sasuke's breast to straighten his broken ribs. He saw black spots beneath the shadows cast by his fingers. The spots were bruises; it would take him long to heal.
"I did," he answered and smoothed out the bandage thoughtlessly.
Itachi's eyes were fixed on the black spots: they were like healed marks of a skin misshapen and charred by flames. He turned on his Sharingan to look beyond the bandages; Sasuke's skin was black in some areas and purple and raw in others. He breathed in the scents brought in by the air and looked at Yuu, appearing a little distracted by the sounds.
"He bled again?" he asked in a flat voice. His expression was guarded.
Yuu gave a slow nod, his eyes still focused on his hands. He did not want to look back at Itachi. "I think it—it was that you broke—" he stopped and pulled in a careful breath, "—that he broke so many of his ribs. I gave him painkillers, but he was in a lot of pain. The broken bones bit into his lungs, and he couldn't breathe properly. The bleeding didn't stop until I didn't mend his bones with healing. If any more of his bones—h-he could've—" and he did not speak any more on the matter.
The muscles around Itachi's lips contracted, and a small grimace tore through that unrelenting visage, but he was swift to give it another disguise—an uncaring one—and as always, he was successful.
Yuu's eyes were downcast, and he gingerly moved his hand above Sasuke's breast. He gathered enough chakra in his palm and began healing again. He lowered it to try and touch Sasuke's breast when Itachi spoke: "do not touch him."
Quickly, Yuu looked up, and a puzzled look crossed his face, his hand hanging motionless above the slowly moving breast. "Forgive me. Am I doing something wrong?" he asked, his voice still so meek and tiny.
"You did not notice? He is releasing a little Raiton in distress, perhaps, to protect himself in this state. If you touch him now, it will send you flying out of the room," Itachi spoke and moved his finger forward to touch Sasuke's where a blue current jumped from one tip to the next. He pulled his hand back with a jerk. There was a smile on his face now, a warm and genuine smile, and it surprised Yuu.
"Itachi-Sama?" he said lowly, looking to Itachi's face. He was confused. All signs of indifference had melted away, and a soft look had come into his face. He looked pleased; it was like his body had ceded to the feeling completely.
"Sasuke's skill at Ninjutsu always leaves me in awe. It is unlike anyone else's," he spoke gently, trying to touch Sasuke's trembling fingers again. "He was so skilled at moulding his chakra even when he was a child. He would make Kunais and Shurikens sharper with it. Then he would throw them at rocks to see if they would go through or not. He was but a boy of five then."
Yuu was silent. He was staring at Itachi's lips, his face, the casual movements of his hand. It looked odd to him. Itachi looked odd to him, telling stories of bygone days because his heart desired. It was like his features had never worked with that unfeeling nature that was natural to him.
"Such a gifted child," Itachi whispered and brushed his fingers along Sasuke's wrists. Then he leant forward and moved his fingers across Sasuke's brow, too; and, immediately, Sasuke's eyes fluttered, and he let out a shaky breath, as if protesting, before he closed them. His face was calm now, and he breathed quietly and fell into a peaceful slumber.
The smile lingered on Itachi's face for a moment, and then it disappeared as easily as it had appeared. His mouth was hard again; his face, no different. He kept his eyes on his brother's face and spoke: "clean his face again."
Yuu gave a slow nod, and, now, his attention focused on his hands. He heard Itachi leave and turned his face to the door; and he felt the cool draft on his back and sighed . . .
It kept raining through the morning. Sometimes, it was monstrous lightning that paved the way for rain that lashed everything. Then it would mellow down to a drizzle and thunder would fade. The day soon declined and evening came upon them. Sun went below the horizon, its last red light but a forgotten murder in the sky.
The lantern outside went back and forth as the breeze pushed past it; its light cast a thick, long shadow along the room's floor. The bars' shadows travelled forwards, long and wide, till they settled across Sasuke's white face. It was as if their presence disturbed him, and, reluctantly, he opened his eyes.
He lay inert on the futon. The pain still crashed through his body like fires most ferocious. Hesitant, like a child, he pulled in a breath loudly. It was cool, and a feeling of contentment washed over him. He could actually breathe now. The pain was bearable. He could deal with it.
Sasuke tried to force his eyes to open fully, but the exhaustion pushed his eyelids down. He could barely make anything out in the darkness that stood defiantly in all corners. Its drape was heavy. Eerie. The room still swam before him—the details so fuzzy as if badly drawn squiggles of a feisty child. He moved a little to sit up when a sharp pain shot straight to his left side and head. He winced and slowly sank back down into a lying position.
Slowly, he brushed his trembling fingers down along his breast and felt the pain shake him again—his eyes watered and burnt with the sensation. Sasuke twisted his neck to the left and saw a pail and a glass on the small-table. He could not quite tell how far it was from him. Clumsily, he stretched his arm, and his hand knocked against the glass, and it fell down and rolled away from him.
"Damn it . . . " he barely managed between grunts and stubbornly sat up. His tongue was dry and heavy. He was thirsty and he was in pain.
Sasuke bent forward and stretched his arm to full length to touch the glass shining in the light. His trembling fingers had only brushed against it when a hand picked it up from the floor. He blinked once, twice, and made out the shape of a sandal close to his hand. He craned his neck and the red in his eyes responded without his approval. His brother was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed on the other. Sasuke could not see his face, only his eyes that tore apart the dark with their sinister glow.
"It is empty, Sasuke," he spoke, quite gently, the glass in his other hand. "Are you thirsty?"
Sasuke could not breathe: the eyes pinned him in place. Sweat broke out on his body, and he forced himself to move back quickly and pressed his body against the wall. It was silence again. The light drizzle made the quietness more obvious. Itachi did not speak for some moments. Sasuke could hear his breaths when he focused his shattered concentration on him. He was glad that the sounds from outside invaded his ears, for all he could do was teeter between great anger and crushing fear.
"Are you thirsty? Do you want me to get you water?" he asked, and his soft voice made him so angry. It was as though he was mocking him, taking pleasure in the misery he had inflicted upon him.
Sasuke's lips were pressed together tightly. He did not want to speak to him. Now, pain was forgotten. All he felt was raw anger flood his body. He watched as his brother put the glass down on the floor, uncoiled himself, stood to a dominating height. He advanced, and Sasuke wanted the wall to grow a mouth, sprout many baby teeth, and chew him up. That fear broke apart the seething rage in him—yet again. He felt his breast tighten painfully, and his lungs struggled to work as Itachi sat down beside him.
He wanted relief from this torment. He wanted him to leave. He pulled his knees close to his breast, curled his arm about them, hid his face behind the curtain of dishevelled black hair and shadows. Itachi leant slightly forward, and the blackness and the fear that danced about made it seem as though every inch of his vision was crowded with his wicked older brother.
Itachi's eyes tracked the sweat drops trailing across his brother's jaw. His skin was shivering. He was terrified of him. He moved his eyes away from Sasuke's face and settled them upon the tray on the table. "Your dinner is cold. You have not eaten anything for days. You must be hungry, thirsty. Eat something. Drink some water," he spoke, his manner calm, but each of his word was more painful than a burning whiplash on Sasuke's skin. He hated him with his spirit's greatest fervour; he wanted him gone . . .
"Here," he spoke and picked up the glass from the tray, "drink this."
Sasuke looked at the water from under the fringe of his lashes and breathed out a tiny gasp of frustration. The water was tempting, and suddenly, his tongue felt drier, heavier in his mouth; but he did not want to give Itachi the satisfaction; he did not want him to win. To hell with him!
"I don't want it. Get away from me," he rasped and bent his head down to hide his face more as he unconsciously licked his lips from the unbearable thirst that was beginning to gnaw at the last thread of his composure; yet the fear inside was a mass of angry rats that ravenously bit through everything in their path . . .
"Sasuke, you need to drink and eat. Your fever will rise if you do not. Drink this and eat something. I will leave once you do," he spoke, sounding sincere as he moved the hand that held the glass of water towards Sasuke.
"I don't want it. Leave!" he hissed this time, getting angrier, and the cool breath dragged cruelly against his throat. The thirst . . . it was starting to hurt him.
"Take a few sips. You are weak. I know you are thirsty. You are angry with me. Do not punish yourself." He stretched his arm and held the glass before him.
Sasuke's eyes shone under the flop of black hair—red and dangerous. He slapped the glass away and it crashed against the wall on the right and shattered into pieces upon the floor. "I said I don't want it. Leave me alone. I would rather starve to death than take anything that comes from your money. Get out—get out!" he shouted, and his jaws clenched harder, his face warped with nothing but the wildest fury as he shivered all over.
Itachi was calm, his gaze upon Sasuke's lips, pressed into a thin line. He remained quiet; then he exhaled and got to his feet and looked down at the pale light shining through the many shards by his feet. He went down on one knee and started picking them up one by one. One of the shards bit into the flesh of his finger. He did not grimace. He had experienced worse—far worse than this tiny pain. Blood ran out of the deep cut, but he kept picking up the pieces. He put them one by one on the tray, his thoughts bent upon the broken object. He did not let them to wander elsewhere.
The tiny pieces were small, but he was meticulous. What if Sasuke stepped upon them in the grip of fever? It would make his feet bleed; so Itachi rubbed and dragged his fingers over the floor and picked up the shiny pieces on the fingertips. They cut deeply into his skin and it bled and created red streaks across the floor. The fine streaks lost their shape as drizzle made its way into the room. They turned pink and soaked through the wood. He would have to close up the window.
At last, he turned to his Sharingan and looked about his feet. He had picked up every last one. He got up and looked over to Sasuke. He had turned his head away. His cheek was pressed against the wall, and he was breathing loudly. He did not say anything to him and made to walk away, but his voice stopped him: "You're not a child with a toy in your hands . . . you break when you want and pick up when you want . . . you're not a child with a toy . . . " His voice was small, weak. He saw a tear go down Sasuke's cheek, visible in the light, and cling to his jaw. The other half of his face was hidden in the darkness; Itachi could not see his eyes—Sasuke's words had put his red to sleep.
Itachi was not a man prone to emotions, but his words moved something in him, and for the briefest moment, his body went rigid. His words rattled him and his gaze faltered. He looked at Sasuke for the span of two more heartbeats and turned away. He opened the door, the tray steadied in his other hand, and closed it behind him.
"He didn't eat it?" Yuu asked as he took the tray from Itachi's hand. Then his eyes fell upon his bleeding hand. "Itachi-Sama, your hand! Let me—"
"Get him something to eat from his money," he cut him off and moved the heavy latch down to close the door firmly.
"He gave it all away to the school in the Uchiha village. He always does. He does not have any more," he said and stared down at the vivid droplets slipping along the sharp edges of the shards.
"Tell Serizawa to cut his pay for next month. I am leaving," he spoke heavily, his eyes wandering to his left to gaze at the closed door. "He will not eat anything from my hands. Give him something before he starves himself to death to win against his brother. Get it done." Then he left very quietly . . .
His absence had piled up a lot of work in his office. Scrolls on Anbu exercises and Jōnin missions littered his desk. For the first time in his life, Itachi admitted to himself that this wearisome office-work irritated him. Pointless applications, letters of recommendations, tedious mission-work reports . . . they seemed to be endless. Some of them were so clumsy that it made him scowl at the foolishness of the Shinobis. If it were up to him, not many would stay in the squads; but, alas, it was not completely up to him.
At least, he subjected the Squads to necessary winnowing. Tsunade was strict, but she had to answer before the Council, and they wanted to fulfil a certain quota. It was foolish, but he was not the sole torch-bearer of Leaf's political policies. He felt as if everything was thrown on his shoulders to keep this rocky ship afloat. He could not really wait for her to limit the Elders' hold. It was only a matter of time. Then, perhaps then, it would reduce this burden of his.
A frown was on his face as he sat down in the chair placed before the open window. He had drawn it away from the table. Somehow, he found the dim light and the cool breeze soothing. It was not like him to be so casual, but he had fewer distractions here. His ears wriggled, and a smile disturbed the expression on his face. He lifted his eyes and waited for the knock to come to the door.
"Come in, Suigetsu," Itachi spoke, abandoned the scroll on his lap, and positioned his hands on the armrest.
Suigetsu stepped in through the door. This time, he had no grin on his face. He closed the door and took two steps before he stopped himself from going any further.
"You look troubled," he spoke and eyed him with a smile that curled his lips. "What worries you?"
"Ya called and me came, boss. Nothin' else ta it," Suigetsu said and lowered his eyes. Itachi's smile was as cold as ever.
"Ah, you are not troubled about my beloved brother this time? I am glad you learnt your lesson, albeit you are a slow learner," he spoke, sounding quite amused.
"Ya broke plenty af his bones, I heard. Even poor ol' Suigetsu didn't see that comin', but what can I say? He's yor lil' brother. Break 'im, mend 'im, scold 'im—ya got the right," he said, his flat tone turning almost mischievous. His eyes twinkled, and he parted his lips in a smile.
"There is the Suigetsu I know," he spoke, still wearing the same smile, "someone who is relentless in his pursuit of wild interferences. Did Karin weep out her heart's woes before you? Her tear-filled show was rather tepid." His eyes were narrowed now, but he kept up the show of airy disdain, mingled with amusement—it was something only he could exhibit.
" 'Am sure ya didn't call me 'ere ta talk 'bout Karin," he said with a burr so thick. It always got the best of him when he was emotional.
"No," he spoke, pronouncing the word with such care that it chilled Suigetsu, "but I do quite enjoy your company."
"Ya what now? Sage help me, boss!" he said and chuckled, his hands thrust in his armpits. His office was strangely cold.
Itachi merely smiled. "Who told you where to find Sasuke? Give me straight answers. This paperwork is so irksome." He threw the scroll down to his feet, and his eyes returned back to Suigetsu.
"Some faggit. Suigetsu don't know his name," he said, trying to keep his cool. He felt as if he was evaporating in Itachi's gaze now; the heat of it brunt him from across the room.
"Tell me, do you expect me to believe that? Why lie, Suigetsu, when I told you that I am already irritated?" he asked and pressed the fingers of his right hand against his temple.
"Not lyin'," he said, "but ya already know he's frem the Tulip Squad a' cunts. Why beat 'round the bush ta scare me? Yor mean, boss—ya might make me lil' heart burst!" He grinned, his teeth on full display.
Itachi fixed him with an impassive gaze, and then, as if the sudden sound of leaves distracted him, he looked at the window. "It matters not," he paused, his gaze upon something Suigetsu could not see, "where is this village you spoke of?"
"Somewhere close ta Waterfalls. That's all I know," he said and narrowed his eyes a little to look at the changing expression on Itachi's face. The trick of the shadows made it difficult to see his face clearly.
"When tomorrow's sun rises, I want you to bring the scroll to me and tell me everything you know," he spoke and hitched his leg upon the other. His face was a hard mask. He looked threatening—the reds, hell-fires in his eyes.
Suigetsu gulped. The happy smile faded and the twinkle vanished from his eyes. "I got ta say, ya knew I didn't know where Sasuke was. Why scare me? 'Am just a stupid lil' boy like ya said. My lil' heart could've exploded. So cold, boss—ice-cold!"
The corner of Itachi's mouth pulled in a smile. "You speak without a care. Look how much you have told me now. Playful and naïve, like a little boy. Is it not better this way? Now, I will go and see as to what makes that village so tempting to the child. I believe, it is time to put it all behind us for the good of all. Would you not agree?" he asked, and the dazzling colour in his eyes seemed so magnificent, so horrific that Suigetsu was struck dumb.
Lightning was loud and it blinded Suigetsu as it shone through the bars again and again. It shook the whole building. The manor was no different whilst it took fresh lashes from the storm. Sasuke was alone in the room. The thirst was killing him. He could not produce any spit now. His tongue was as dry as a piece of meat left under the summer's sun. His fever was rising, and, for one hurtful moment, his weakness allowed him to experience a self-hate that his anger had made him reject that glass of water.
He heard the small portal in the door move back, and then a tray was slipped in through it. "Sasuke-Sama, I got this from your own pay," Yuu said aloud, his voice carrying over the noise outside. "Please, eat it. You must be hungry."
The portal was closed from outside, and the steps moved away; and like a hungry animal, he scrambled for the tray. He did not care what he got hold of; he just wanted to quench his thirst and sate his hunger; yet the hands trembled as shame rose inside. He balanced himself on his elbows and straightened his torso, his head hanging down . . . and he wept . . .
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