Vespertine
Chapter Four: The Truth
If I told you a secret,
Will you hold it and keep it alive?
Cause it's burning a hole
And I can't get to sleep
And I can't live alone in this lie.
Itachi awoke to the sound of rain; a dim, steady patter pervading his unconscious mind. Surfacing from blackness slowly, he breathed, hazily identified the odor of dust and damp and more faintly, a subtle, feminine scent. In the next moment came the knowledge that he was indeed still breathing—still alive—and that for the first time in a long while the air passing through his lungs was untainted by the bitter, metallic tang of blood.
Other sounds followed: running water, the clink of glass touching a hard surface, faint shuffling, a light weight shifting on an old wooden floor. Sakura.
His eyes felt heavy and gritty, his mouth and lips dry, and he knew that he'd been unconscious for a long time. He felt groggy, slow in both mind and body. A very unpleasant feeling, reminiscent of waking in Madara's mountain compound, only without the intense, aching pain and the hollow despair that death had escaped him. This time the knowledge that he lived was comforting and welcome, and he didn't want to sleep anymore.
He slowly opened his eyes, turned his head, and through the bleary fog of medication and fatigue he saw her petite, slender silhouette outlined by the faint glow from the window. The long sleeves of her shirt were pushed up to her elbows, her bright hair pulled back in a careless ponytail, shorter strands falling loose around her face and neck. She was cleaning, washing some dishes.
Itachi observed his surroundings slowly, noting that the long-unused cabin was now clean and tidy, all of the supplies neatly put away. Apparently she'd been at it a while. She probably thought she was being quiet.
As Sakura was unaware of him, he sat up silently and continued to watch her. She shifted to the side and rose up on tiptoe to reach a few more glasses in the cabinet, set them down, then sighed quietly and brushed a few escaped wisps of pink from her face with her forearm. Her movements were so unconsciously graceful and lithe that he wondered how he had failed to notice, how for even a moment he'd believed she was anything but a dancer or a kunoichi.
He watched her for some time, filled with thoughts and observations that he was still too weary to process thoroughly. Only once she'd finished drying the last of the dishes did she turn and finally notice him.
Sakura didn't know how long Itachi had been awake, but she unconsciously smiled when she saw him sitting upright against the headboard, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. She set the dishtowel on the counter and made her way over to him.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," he murmured hoarsely.
He didn't seem entirely lucid, which was normal after coming out of a near-comatose state. But there were noticeable signs of improvement: his pale skin had regained a little of its color, the shadows under his eyes lighter. He'd remained stable once his fever broke, breathing untroubled save for the occasional slight cough. She'd periodically checked his temperature and vitals since then, and was pleased. The prognosis for a full recovery was good. Better than good, in fact.
Over the last four days, Sakura had familiarized herself extensively with the disease on a cellular level and was now completely confident she could defeat it. She was undecided about whether to tell Itachi. Even though he said he had no expectations, to possibly get his hopes up when his fate with Konoha was still uncertain seemed cruel.
The rains that began the day before continued steadily. It was a prelude to winter, a warning of what would come; when the temperature dropped it would turn to snow. Miles from civilization, the deep, permeating silences of the wilderness were peaceful but also rather eerie, and so to Sakura, the steady, soothing drumming against the tiled roof had been a welcome form of white-noise. Now she could hear the rumblings of a thunderstorm approaching, the sky darkening as heavy black clouds rolled in from the east.
Itachi heard it as well and his eyes slid to the window, took in the dreary gray light of a rainy afternoon. He shifted and cleared his throat softly. "How long?"
"Three nights and most of today," she answered quietly. "Do you remember anything?"
"Flashes…it's mostly a blur." He breathed, slow and deep, testing the improved state of his lungs, savoring the untroubled breath. His gaze turned inward as he recalled an indefinite period of sinking into and emerging from darkness, sometimes filled with excruciating pain, sometimes detached from any sensation at all. It was not the first time he had felt so, and very quietly he said, "I thought I was going to die."
"You were," she confirmed. "You almost did. It took everything I had to keep you alive, but we made it through." She gave a small smile. "The worst is over."
Silence fell, broken only by the soft patter on the roof. Itachi studied her face carefully, searchingly. She knew he was aware of the subtle shift between them, and was trying to reconcile it. He could no longer distrust her; to do so now would be pointless after what they'd just been through. Sakura stared back at him, felt herself pulled in by that intense dark gaze, as if his eyes still had some kind of power even when the doujutsu was inactive. She wondered what he was thinking, what he thought of her, of the situation and how it had evolved.
A light flashed suddenly outside the window, followed by the low rumble of distant thunder. Sakura blinked at the sound, breaking herself out of the moment. "You have to be starving," she said, smiling lightly to brush off the strange, unfamiliar tension between them. "I can make some food if you like?"
"I'd like to clean up first."
Sakura didn't blame him; after almost four days of being sick, sweaty and confined to a bed, she'd be dying for a shower too. And frankly, he needed one. She moved forward to help him out of bed, but he shot her one of his 'don't' looks which was fast becoming familiar. She backed up a step and watched him stand. Still weak, unsteady on his feet and half out of it from exhaustion and sedation, his pride wouldn't allow him to be treated like an invalid and he managed to walk to the washroom unaided. She was once again amazed by his iron willpower, that determination which enabled him to escape Madara's compound and wander the frigid wilderness before stumbling into Moyama where their paths crossed.
However, when he faltered a little in the doorway, Sakura was finished indulging his ego. "Don't overstrain yourself," she chastised, grasping his shoulders to steady him. "Wait here." She moved around him into the washroom. It was a cramped space meant only for basic hygiene needs; a pedestal sink with attached medicine cabinet, an old-fashioned toilet, and an old wooden tub with brass showerhead on the wall above. Sakura turned on the water and let it run hot, then turned back to find Itachi leaning against the doorframe, watching her. She held her hand out to him. "Give me your clothes."
The vaguely put-upon expression he'd been wearing instantly melted away and he looked bewildered for a brief second before he caught himself. Then he glared. Sakura gave him a look. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "I'm a medic; it's nothing I haven't seen before." But while it was true that she'd seen more naked males in her career than she liked to think about, this situation was just slightly different.
Itachi continued to glare and hesitate for a long moment, and then finally, without any further sign of discomfort or embarrassment, lifted his shirt over his head. She took it from him, then averted her eyes when he started unfastening his pants. The faint pop of a button, followed by the slow slide of a zipper…her eyes naturally wanted to follow the sound, and it was very difficult to resist the compulsion. It didn't help that he moved so damned slow. Things would go much quicker if she just did it for him, but she wasn't about to suggest it, for both their sakes.
Perhaps he was still ambivalent about letting her order him around. Sakura could feel him watching her as he undressed, and a small part of her tetchily wondered if he sensed her discomfort and was acting just a little bit spiteful by taking his sweet time and prolonging the awkwardness as long as possible. Or maybe he was just groggy and drugged up and her imagination was running away with her.
She held her hand out to the side, stared fixedly at a mildew spot on the tile and waited. A few shifting sounds, rustles of fabric, and a couple flashes of skin out of the corner of her eye later, she finally felt the weight of his clothing on her palm. But the material began to slide from her grasp, and as she turned to catch it, she inadvertently caught a full glimpse of exactly what she'd been avoiding looking at.
As she'd told him, it was nothing she hadn't seen before. But it was Uchiha Itachi's 'nothing,' and that factor made it infinitely more disturbing. Her gaze immediately shot elsewhere, and to her added horror the first place it landed was the mirror of the medicine cabinet, where she got a clear view of his exposed backside. She immediately sought his face, but when their eyes met it only caused her cheeks to flush a bright pink. Itachi's dark eyes narrowed a fraction. Sakura didn't bother to ponder what was behind that look and quickly turned her back to him.
In a hospital he wouldn't be allowed to bathe himself in his current state, and while she didn't think a sponge bath was really necessary here, her original intention was to at least keep an eye on him. Figuratively. With the shower curtain drawn. The medic in her said she should be professional and just get it over with. But the part of her that was a teenage girl alone in a tiny bathroom with a naked man wanted nothing more than to get out.
"I'll just, uh, go and wash these," she said, relieved that she sounded much calmer than she felt. "And, um…don't pass out and crack your head open or anything." She left quickly and shut the door behind her.
The thunderstorm roiled in earnest now, filling the sky with recurrent flashes and rumbling. To get her mind off what just happened, Sakura occupied herself with busywork. She rebuilt the fire and went to wash Itachi's clothes with a few of her own. She'd been very pleased to find an ancient but functional mini-washer next to the electric water heater in a small utility closet; she hated washing clothes by hand. The sheets would have to be washed as well at some point, but Itachi couldn't be without clothes and bedding at the same time.
Itachi was in the washroom for quite a while and Sakura was glad. It was childish and unprofessional, she knew, but as long as his chakra remained stable and she knew he was alright, she'd be perfectly happy if he stayed in there the rest of the day.
However, just as she'd finished hanging the wet clothes over the backs of the table chairs in front of the fire, Itachi emerged with only a towel around his narrow waist. Sakura shot him a quick, cautious glance, which lingered of its own volition, noting what she was too shell-shocked and embarrassed to focus on before. He was very thin, both from lack of proper nourishment and the wasting effects of disease, but he wasn't grotesque. His tall frame was naturally lean, and still retained an attractive shape that even the advanced state of his illness couldn't take away. Her eyes passed over the faded ANBU tattoo on his left shoulder and she tried not to show her surprise. She hadn't known he was in the black ops. Strange that he still had it, that it hadn't been covered with another or removed somehow. She also couldn't help but notice his only visible scars were new; wounds from his fight with Sasuke that hadn't received immediate treatment. It was a reminder of how powerful he was, to be a lifelong shinobi with almost no scars. Elite among the elite. Untouchable.
Sakura noted it all in only a moment and then looked away, feigning nonchalance. "Since you don't have any other clothes you'll have to wait until these dry," she said with practiced composure, grabbing the fire poker to shuffle the logs around and boost the flames. The quicker his clothes dried the better. "Cover up with the blankets or you'll catch another fever."
The shower hadn't seemed to invigorate him any, for he was just as lethargic as before and returned to bed without any resistance. Within a few minutes he was sound asleep again.
Despite the downpour, Sakura bundled up and went outside. There was no way of knowing when the rain would stop and there were only a few logs left by the hearth. If the fire died out they would both be in trouble. She crossed the glade to the edge of the forest, stopping at the base of a small pine. Cracking her knuckles, Sakura took a deep breath and drove a chakra-laden fist into the trunk. A loud crack reverberated through the forest as it splintered at the base, groaned almost mournfully, and began to fall. As the felled tree hit the ground a flock of ravens were startled from their rain shelters and flew away amid a chorus of plaintive cawing.
Flooding chakra through her arms, Sakura hoisted the timber onto her shoulder and carried it back across the clearing to the cabin, dropping it next to the cutting stump, then fetched the axe hanging from the wall near the door and set to work. With chakra-enhanced strength, she had the entire tree chopped into firewood in just under four hours. By then it was growing dark, the thunder had passed but the rain continued, and the temperature was dropping. The task had depleted much of her chakra reserves, and by the time she finished stacking the wood under the eave where it would keep driest she was soaked, freezing, and weary. With a final grunt of effort, she gathered an armful and took it inside.
Itachi was awake and dressed now, standing in front of the fire. He turned to her when she came in, silently watched her pile the logs next to the hearth and strip off her outerwear, brushing the little bits of moss and bark from her coat, then let her hair down to shake the water free of the ends.
"How long have you been awake?"
"A while."
Enough time had passed that she was mostly over the incident in the bathroom, and felt comfortable looking him in the eye. He was fully awake now, eyes focused and clear. Still, he was recovering from a very close brush with death, and needed all the rest he could get. "You really shouldn't be up and moving this much so soon," she reproved mildly. "Are you in any pain?"
Truthfully, his head and throat ached and he still felt utterly listless. Itachi hated the weakness of his body, the helpless inability to do even the simplest things unaided without exhaustion. "I'm fine," he said tonelessly.
Sakura suspected he wasn't being honest and almost demanded he take more meds, but decided against it. Now that his life was no longer in immediate danger, he would not take the sedative again and would be out of bed as much as his stamina would allow. She couldn't really blame him; to a shinobi, not having complete control of mental and physical faculties could be intensely distressing, even frightening. Their lives often depended on being alert and aware at all times. Letting go of that must have been extremely hard for him.
"Just don't push yourself too hard. If you ruin all my work, I'll be pissed. And you really don't want to see that," she warned blithely, moving toward the fire and holding her icy hands out over the welcoming warmth. Itachi was watching her again with that intense, studying expression, and again she found herself unable to look away, wondering what was going through his mind.
He read the question in her eyes, and decided for once to reveal his thoughts. "I saw you demolish the tree," he said, rather amused by the monstrous brute force he'd witnessed the relatively small girl display from the window. "Very impressive."
Sakura had to smile. "Well, I do have the slight advantage of super-strength."
"If being a kunoichi doesn't work out for you I'm sure you would make an excellent lumberjack."
It took a moment for her to notice the hint of a smirk on his lips and realize he was teasing her. It was a strange but pleasant surprise to learn that Uchiha Itachi had a sense of humor. Her smile turned playful. "Nah, the outfits they wear are very unflattering."
The curve of his smirk widened slightly. "You destroyed that cavern in Wind country when you fought Sasori," he said. "Your combat technique is based on precise control and application of chakra, like your medical jutsu."
It wasn't spoken like a question. Sakura had noticed that Itachi rarely asked questions because most times he'd already figured out the answer. He just wanted a confirmation. She nodded.
"Your abilities are remarkable."
Sakura felt her cheeks warm, and smiled softly with pride. "Thanks."
That same, strange tension filled the space between them again. Not really negative in any way, just…different. New. She supposed it was just the link formed through the extensive healing, but it still made her uneasy because she wasn't sure how to react to it. The fire cracked loudly as a log split apart. She tried to think of something to say to break the lengthening silence, but Itachi did so first.
"Are you ready to hear what I know?"
Sakura blinked, taken aback. "You want to do this now?"
"It's as good a time as any," he said plainly.
She supposed it was. She just hadn't thought he would offer so soon, had assumed he would keep his secrets to himself until he was nearly healed. Her lips pressed together and she breathed deeply, preparing herself. "Alright. Something tells me I won't like any of this…but it's why I'm here."
She made them some herbal tea first, figuring Itachi would need something to relieve his cough-abused throat if he intended to talk extensively, and she could use something to calm and soothe herself as well. They sat in front of the fire, Sakura's newly dry laundry removed from the chairs and tossed carelessly on the bed.
For a few minutes, Itachi just stared at the crackling flames in silence. He was preparing to tell her things he'd never told anyone before, things possibly no other living person knew. The weight of that knowledge settled heavily on Sakura's shoulders as she watched him anxiously, waiting.
"I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning," he said at last, meeting her gaze. "What do you know of Konoha's founding?"
Pulling what she'd learned as a child to the front of her mind, Sakura replied, "Konoha was the first of the greater villages, formed a little over eighty years ago by an unprecedented alliance between two of the most powerful shinobi clans in Fire country: Senju and Uchiha. In that time clans usually competed against each other for money and the favors of feudal lords, so an alliance between such powerful clans was groundbreaking. It was also the first step in breaking away from the control of the feudal lords, who only thought of shinobi as tools to be used in their power struggles."
Itachi nodded. "I thought you would know. Not many do."
Sakura found that hard to believe. "It was curriculum at the Academy."
He gave a faintly amused smirk. "Yes, but you're probably one of the few who bothered to remember it."
Sakura knew she was a bookworm, had been called a 'nerd' and bullied for it by some of the meaner, stupider girls in school. But from Itachi such words sounded approving, like a compliment, and she had to smile.
"Madara was the leader of the Uchiha at the time of the alliance," he continued. "He was always ambitious, achieving his position through violence as many before him had done. He killed his own wife to obtain the Mangekyo Sharingan, and convinced his younger brother who followed him with unquestioning obedience to do the same in order to obtain it as well. Possessing the Mangekyo form causes the vision to deteriorate over time, eventually ending in blindness. However, there has always been a way to prevent it: to possess the Mangekyo of another. Madara took his brother's eyes, as he intended all along, and then killed him. With the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan he became the most powerful shinobi in the clan."
"That's horrible! How could anyone do something like that?"
Itachi just looked at her, and a sort of bitter irony passed over his features, as if he was thinking of a humorless joke at his own expense. Then Sakura realized what she'd just said, and to whom. Itachi also possessed the Mangekyo Sharingan. Did he, too, kill a loved one to obtain it? Yet Kakashi had it as well, and he hadn't killed anyone for it so there must be another way. She desperately wanted to ask a dozen new questions, but before she could Itachi went on.
"The Senju clan was the greatest rival of the Uchiha. For years they fought and killed each other on opposite sides of the battlefield. The struggles between the enemy lords who hired them became increasingly brutal, and both clans took many losses. One day the leader of the Senju, Hashirama, came to the Uchiha with an offer of alliance. He wanted to create a separate nation of shinobi within Fire country, removed from the influence and power of the feudal lords. It was to be a place where they could choose their battles and who they worked for, where children weren't forced to fight as soon as they could wield a weapon, where they could even choose a different way of life and not be shinobi at all. A place of peace."
Itachi's expression and something in his tone seemed bitter and wistful. Sakura wondered what he was thinking of to make him feel that way, what he wasn't telling her.
"But Madara didn't want the alliance?" she guessed. Madara seemed to thrive on strife; he wouldn't have been much of an advocate for peace, may even have found it threatening.
"No, he did not," Itachi affirmed. "But his hand was forced by the rest of the Uchiha. Hashirama's revolutionary idea was very appealing after decades of constant fighting. The treaty was signed, and Hidden Leaf was born.
"For a while it worked as it was meant to. But eventually other clans were brought into the alliance, including the Hyuuga: progenitor of the Uchiha. The two clans had a longstanding blood-feud, and Madara was furious that they were being asked to coexist. He didn't want peace in any form. To his mind, power and respect can only come from conflict, from dominance and superiority. He felt the Uchiha were shamed—neutered, was a word he once used to describe it.
"He tried to convince the clan to break the treaty and leave Konoha, but they did not share his animosity and his arguments were ignored. To Madara this was a grievous insult to his position as clan leader, which increasingly seemed to be in name only. The final blow came when Hashirama was chosen to become Shodai Hokage. Of course Madara wanted the title for himself. Worse yet, as leader of the powerful Uchiha clan and cofounder of the village, Madara wasn't even given the position of second in command. It went to Hashirama's brother, who eventually became the second Hokage. Shodai must have understood what kind of man Madara was and knew he couldn't entrust him with such power. It's likely that his original offer of alliance was simply a way to neutralize one of his greatest threats."
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Sakura said sagely. This was a much better version than the one in her academy textbooks. Itachi was a good orator when he actually opened up and talked, and she was completely enthralled by his story.
"Yes," he continued,"I believe that was his intention. Madara realized this as well. He could not bear it, and left Konoha. He tracked down the Kyuubi and hypnotized it with the Sharingan, then returned with the intention of destroying the village. Shodai met him, and the battle they fought created what is now known as the Valley of the End. Madara was defeated and believed dead.
"For decades his continued existence remained unknown, but he never forgot his grudge against those he believed betrayed him. Sixteen years ago, he once again used the Kyuubi against Konoha, this time remaining hidden in the shadows. You know how that ended. Afterward he grew paranoid that the incident would be traced to him, and created Akatsuki to mask his movements."
Itachi fell quiet a moment, looked away from her and back to the fire. Sakura watched the flickering light play across his handsome features, dancing shadows exaggerating his subtle expression into something more easily readable. He was troubled…almost angry. She raised her cup to her lips and blew softly across the steaming liquid before taking a sip. Itachi was quiet for so long she thought he might not continue if she didn't urge him to.
"So what is Madara's goal? What does he hope to achieve through Akatsuki?"
"If one bijuu isn't enough to destroy Hidden Leaf, then he will do it with all of them," he answered darkly, meeting her gaze once more.
Sakura's eyes widened in horror. "That's why Akatsuki has been capturing all of the jinchuuriki…"
Itachi nodded somberly. "With the Sharingan, Madara can control them and send them against any target he wishes. He will not stop with Konoha. And now all but the eight- and nine-tails have been captured."
Itachi coughed lightly, and then again more seriously. He'd spoken more tonight than he had in weeks, maybe longer, and what had started as a tickle in his throat had triggered the onset of another fit. It wasn't severe; there was no blood this time, and after a few moments he sighed slowly and sat back.
"Are you alright?" She leaned forward in her chair and reached out to feel his brow. He didn't have a fever, but he looked very tired all of a sudden. "We can talk later if you want to rest…"
He shook his head, edged slightly away from her touch. "No. I want to continue." He cleared his throat and drank from his cup.
Sakura nodded and sat back, drawing her knees up to her chest, balancing her heels on the edge of her chair. "Alright…" Her expression set firmly as she mentally prepared herself to hear what came next. "Tell me about the massacre."
Next chapter: The Truth, Pt.2.
