Chapter 3: Islands of Experience

The dimness of the theater was comforting to Sasuke. The flickering lights on the big screen, white and gray and blue and red and black, round and round, blurred together. They filled the room, casting muted shades of every color across the scene, randomly lighting up the blackness, lengthening the shadows and staining upturned faces different hues.

Sasuke never went to the movies for the movies, of course. He went for the people. Sitting near the back rows he could see the backs of most of their heads, though they couldn't see him. Not that they were looking anyway. In a movie theater, nobody ever looks at their neighbors. And they certainly don't try to talk to them. Sasuke liked the movies.

It was like a church, he reasoned. Their heads tilted backward, jaws gone all slack, hungry gazes fixed intently on the screen. They looked so absorbed, worshiping together with dozens of pairs of eyes. Maybe he was a little jealous of their passion. Or their unity. They all agreed the screen was the most interesting thing in the room, after all. Sasuke couldn't quite focus on it properly.

Lost in thought, his eyes swept over the dim theater once more. Also like any congregation, not everybody paid strict attention to the main attraction at all times. In one of the front rows an older gentleman with a bad toupee knocked over his popcorn. To Sasuke's left, a couple was kissing. A middle-aged woman softly scolded two fussing toddlers two rows over.

Sasuke winced and looked away.

The movie sounded like it would be ending soon, so it was about time for Sasuke to make himself scarce. He hadn't paid for a ticket, after all. They didn't really have enough money to be going to the movies all the time, and there was no way Itachi would give him money to do so when he should be in school right now anyway.

Sasuke got up quietly, careful not to draw attention to himself. He didn't want to get caught as he snuck out.

He made his way down the row, holding his breath, careful to avoid brushing against any legs on his way out. That was the other good thing about sitting in the back; there were few people to cross over awkwardly when you left.

Breathing in relief when he reached the open space of the aisle, he began to make his way toward the bright red EXIT sign. Sasuke was halfway there when he spotted him.

Sasuke's amazement was so great that his feet forgot to move for a moment. Sitting there innocently in an aisle seat, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, was a familiar man with a familiar book. Reading. In the movie theater. Sasuke's mouth gaped in astonishment. Seattle was huge. What were the chances?

The bizarre man did not look up from his book. Sasuke could've sworn the corner of his lips curled upwards, but it was impossible to tell in the flickering dimness.

Confusion followed. Blinking rapidly, Sasuke shook it off and left the theater quickly as possible.

Sasuke did not believe in coincidences. He had learned the hard way at the ripe old age of six that things happen for a reason, all effects have causes, and certain events are always preceded by certain patterns. Especially bad ones.

Sasuke worried. For the first time in a long time, he had something in particular on his mind. It was unsettling. Blank minds were safe ones, but his had been doing too much thinking lately.

He sighed and sat up, reaching back behind himself to brush the dirt and leaves from his shirt and hair. Watching the sky was less relaxing than normal today.

His eyes wandered to the pond next to him, and to his own face looking back from its smooth surface. Sasuke almost never studied himself in any mirror (he even brushed his teeth with his back to it every morning), but his reflection in the unmoving, indifferent water was somewhat less threatening. So today he looked.

The blankness of his own expression startled him, but not even that emotion registered in his eyes. He looked as neutral as Itachi. Other features looked the same too: he had the same black hair, though his was short and untidy compared to his brother's. It stuck up stubbornly in the back in a way that used to irritate him when he was little; Itachi would tease him about it occasionally. He and Itachi still had identical black eyes, however, right down to the bags underneath them. The thought was troubling, perhaps. He was unsure how he felt about looking like his brother.

The only real difference between them was Sasuke's earrings. He had twelve in total, five in one ear and seven in the other. They attracted more attention than he would like, but he could not seem to stop collecting them, like a weird compulsion or a persistent bad habit. He remembered each piercing clearly; little islands of tangible experience in a fog of nothing. The stinging pain, the heat of the sterilized needle, the red droplets of blood against the white porcelain of the bathroom sink. Those fleeting moments were more real than the majority of Sasuke's life, as real as everything that wasn't. The holes in his body where the flesh should be were more alive than the rest of him. He wondered vaguely what he'd do when he ran out of space to put more of them in.

Sasuke's hand lifted to brush the outer shell of his left lobe, gently fingering one of the little silver hoops. He watched own his stoic expression with unease, trying to avoid the mental path his wandering thoughts were dragging him down.

It wasn't much use. That guy was too mysterious, intruding unexpectedly in two of Sasuke's favorite places like that and then thoroughly ignoring him. Sasuke had never run into someone he recognized around town before. Was the man stalking him? Should he be scared? Annoyed? Intrigued? Was he becoming paranoid-crazy, in addition to just normal-crazy?

Then Sasuke's mind abruptly stumbled onto an even more disturbing explanation: was it possible that he did run into people he should know, but had never paid enough attention to recognize anyone before?

Sasuke's reflection blinked at himself in surprise, hand stilling. The realization was obvious in hindsight. What was truly surprising was his own reaction, which was slowly dawning on him:

Was it really so painful to pay attention to this one small thing? How could it hurt to simply recognize this odd stranger with the gray hair and knowing eyes? What could it cost?

In the end, Sasuke was not as sorry about it as he should have been.

"Sasuke."

His brother spoke, but those eyes did not look up at him. The only other eyes in the world of the living that looked exactly like his, and they never looked up at him.

"Mr. Umino called. You missed school four times this week."

Itachi had not asked a question, so Sasuke felt no obligation to give an answer.

There was his mother in the garden in their old backyard, planting rows of tomatoes. She measured them to make sure they were exactly ten inches apart—no more, no less. She smiled widely at his chatter as she worked. Sasuke was a very talkative six-year old. He loved tomatoes and wanted to help. She beamed and showed him how to do it properly.

Later Sasuke ran inside to show his father and his brother what a good job he did, forgetting in his haste to leave his dirty shoes at the door. He held up naked, soil-blackened palms and pointed out the window in the big kitchen to the yard.

"Dad! Itachi! Look, look, me and Mom planted more stuff in the garden today! Tomatoes!"

Sasuke beamed up at them, but neither smiled back. They rushed to the window together to watch his mother, whispering in strained voices. They were upset. Sasuke suddenly remembered the mud he unthinkingly tracked in and started to cry, expecting to be scolded.

Instead, Itachi picked him up and gently hushed him. "It's okay Sasuke, you didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault."

Sasuke blinked back the tears in confusion. "But…there's mud everywhere…" he sniffled.

Itachi glanced down at the mud. "Oh. It's fine, I'll clean it up in a moment." Itachi exchanged another look with his father as he put a soothed Sasuke down again. They went back to the window, talking quietly once more, spelling out big words so Sasuke couldn't understand.

So they weren't angry about the mud, at least. But then why were they acting so strange? And why were they looking at his mother like that again?

And then something clicked for the first time in Sasuke's young brain. They must be upset about something his mother was doing. Whenever they spoke softly to each other and ignored Sasuke, it was always to look at his mother in that way. But why, why? What was so wrong with planting tomatoes? It's not like anything would really grow anyway, right?

Sasuke woke suddenly, confused and disoriented. A dream about his childhood?...playing gardener with his mother...what a stupid dream. Sasuke rubbed his eyes bitterly, rolling over and jerking the covers up to his chin. His mother was long dead. There were no tomatoes. They never even had a garden out back.

Sasuke shut his eyes tight, but could not sleep.