So yeah. Yet another one.
Show this one some love guys. Please? :3
My favorite to date!
Four Ways to Look At A:
Heart
As A Symbol:
"Happy Valentine's Day, Sasuke!"
A pink paper heart was thrust into his hands, and he blinked in confusion.
"Valentine's Day?" He echoed curiously, before looking up at her. He noticed vaguely that the color's paper was exactly the color of her hair. "What's this Valentine's Day?"
She blinked.
"What? Sasuke, you've never heard of that before?"
Sasuke blinked, scowled. She took that as her cue – before he got angry.
"Valentine's Day is a day of merriment and happiness! It's a day to declare your love for a person, or to celebrate the love you already have for a person."
Sasuke gazed at her questioningly.
"And how do you do that? By giving them silly paper hearts?"
She pouted.
"They're not silly, Sasuke! That heart in your hands is the universal symbol of love!"
Sasuke blinked, this time in thought.
"Love…?"
She nodded, crossed her arms, and shook her head.
"Yes! Jeez Sasuke – I can't believe you've never heard of it! And you're HOW old?!"
Sasuke blinked. Oh. So that's why piles of pink and red things always appeared on his doorstep every year.
But he hadn't known it was a special occasion or anything. He had just assumed it was the tradition of some sort of freak fan-girl cult.
He never bothered to notice all the hearts and confetti and love potions floating around.
Sasuke Uchiha was a bit dense when he wanted to be.
"So this… thing…" He waved the paper heart in front of her. "This silly little paper heart is supposed to represent love?"
She nodded.
"Yes! Like I said, the universal symbol! Everybody knows what it means!"
Sasuke blinked, looked down at it. It seemed so fragile in his hands.
Too fragile to hold such a harsh burden like love.
"…Okay." He turned away, still holding it in his hands. "Thanks Sakura."
She beamed, waved him off.
"Happy Valentine's Day Sasuke!"
----
Back at the Uchiha compound, Sasuke simply stood there, staring at the heart in his hands for a few moments.
He was skeptical.
"Can this thing really represent love?" He asked himself quietly. "Love – in all its forms? This tiny paper heart?"
He wanted to rip it in half – just to prove to himself that no, it couldn't, and Sakura was a liar.
He realized his hands had gripped the heart to do just that.
But then, as he gazed at it, he realized the paper heart was too fragile, too tiny to rip.
Just like the heart it represents.
Taking the heart in hand, he walked through the empty house to his mother's empty workshop, found the drawer where she kept the construction paper, and got some scissors from the kitchen.
He spent many hours sitting at the lonesome dining room table. At first he didn't know how to cut out a heart, so many sheets of paper were wasted with hearts that didn't look good or didn't look like hearts at all. Finally he realized that by folding the paper in half he could make a symmetrical heart, and after few tries he managed to make one that he liked.
Then he focused on making the biggest heart possible, taping together pieces upon pieces of paper before cutting them and unfolding it, laying it out to admire his work.
The big one looked bad. All taped up and falling apart, covered with different shades of pink and red. He pursed his lips as he looked at it.
Then his eyes went to the tiny pink heart next to his elbow.
Then he realized that no matter how big he made it, it would never be big enough.
His heart heavy and his fingers and palms sore, he instead took a single sheet of red paper, folded it, drew a line with a pencil, and cut out a heart – not as tiny as the pink one, but not as big as the entire page either.
Unfolding it, he gazed at it, and sighed.
Standing up, he took a candle from one of the holders along the wall, and walked along the empty passageway, the dusty and forlorn doors on either side.
His own paper heart was in his other hand.
Kneeling down, he pulled the rug away, opened the door, and made his way silently down the stairs.
Taking the candle in hand, he lit the other ones at the bottom. And, slowly, set the little red heart to where it leaned against the picture.
Slowly, he got onto his knees, simply gazing at the halo of light.
He knew the heart would never be big enough – knew a simple piece of paper would never truly convey all the meanings and levels and pains love brought-
He raised his hands, clasped them.
But maybe, just maybe... even thought the heart was tiny and the message too huge for such a fragile little shape-
Bowed his head.
Just maybe, they would know what he meant.
He closed his eyes.
"Happy Valentine's Day… Mother, Father."
I love you.
The heart was the universal symbol, after all.
As A Muscle:
"He's dying – he's dying!"
Those were the only words going through his mind as he watched the other members of the team carry the body into the medical tent, where he was sitting with wounds of his own, his Chakra being used to rejuvenate the medical ninja. Orders from Tsunade herself.
There had been too many deaths already.
He merely watched as the other was brought into the tent, set down in front of the top doctors.
"He's been injected with poison in the chest!" One of the ninjas informed the tent as nurses swarmed to get the fallen ninja prepped.
Exchanging glances with the man in the corner, Tsunade hissed and spat angrily.
"We'll have to cut him open – isolate his heart and bleed the poison out of the arteries before it reaches the muscle. Let's do it!"
She turned to the man in the corner, motioned to him. Silently, he stood and walked over to her.
"Help me," she ordered. Ordered, not asked.
She knew he didn't listen to questions.
Silently, he raised a hand, set it on her shoulder as the bright blue aura of Chakra surrounded him, and spread to her.
With his power aiding hers, Tsunade ripped open the injured ninja's shirt and revealed the ugly purple wound that had entered right near the left bottom portion of the man's ribcage.
"Shit!" Tsunade cursed, raising a finger as it began to glow a vicious blue, turning into a blade made of solid Chakra – precise enough it seemed to slice through dimensions. "It's already nearly to his heart – why didn't you bring him to me sooner?!"
Taking her finger to his chest, she pressed down, slicing him open deep in the chest, cutting through his breast plate as if it were paper. The fiery energy of the Chakra seared the veins cut closed, posing as temporary flood clamps to stop the bleeding.
She peeled the skin and muscle away, clamped them down, revealing the pale, starch white calcium of the breast plate, a clean line through it. Everyone in the room could feel the bumping muscle beneath rather than hear it, could barely see the thin sliver of visible muscle pushing against the bone, fighting to do its duty – to keep the body it was in alive so it itself could stay alive-
Then, setting her palms against either side of the visible chest plate, Tsunade pushed down, cleanly snapped the bone into two separate pieces, and folded those aside as well.
So the heart was now revealed.
His eyes widened.
He had never seen a real heart before. He had seen pictures of it, illustrations of it, had stabbed his fist through it, had felt the beating fade to nothing or speed up to oblivious bliss beneath his fingers – but had never really seen it.
It fascinated him.
As Tsunade worked, he could only stare. When a part of her arm or head was in the way, he could still see it in his mind's eye.
Do I have such a thing in my chest too?
Such a tiny muscle – the size of his fist maybe – beating, at first frantically due to the adrenaline that still rushed through the man's system, but then slowing down as the hormone disappeared, but then frantically again as the poison entered it, beating frantically to expel it, get rid of it, drown it.
That tiny muscle… he thought as Tsunade began to panic, hysterically slicing through the arteries that led to the heart in hopes of stopping the poison, but it was already too late.
He watched, fascinated, as the tender, dark red muscle – so frail-looking and yet without it one couldn't survive – began to change color. First to purple, then to black, turning ashy and black and gray and beginning to cripple as if being squeezed by a ruthless hand, crumpling like paper.
"No!" Tsunade cried, sending her energy into the heart, trying to rejuvenate it and to burn away the poison. Her energy wasn't potent enough – he knew. "NONONO!"
As he watched, he began to panic as well. No – he didn't want to watch it die, didn't want to watch the strength of all life fade before his eyes – he could already feel his own heart blackening along with the other's.
No. No no no. Don't die, don't die.
He didn't care about the man, didn't care about him at all.
He cared about the man's heart. The living, beating, thriving muscle he had now seen was now decaying into nothing.
Nothing like that should fall from grace.
Silently – almost as panicked as Tsunade was – he reached forward, pushed Tsunade's bloody hand away, and set his own palm on the frail, dying, dead muscle, sending his own red hot energy – barely controlled – into the blackness, ordering it to live.
You will not die!
Some part of him – if the heart failed to come alive again – would die too. He knew it.
Tsunade gasped and set her hands on his, trying to regulate his energy into something more stable.
But the poison had been all burned away. When subjected to the fiery wrath of his electric blue Chakra, it had stood no chance, but the damage had been done.
The man wasn't breathing anymore.
But he didn't care.
The heart wasn't beating anymore.
For some reason he felt close to crying.
Beat. Beat. Live. Live.
Using his energy, Tsunade breathed life back into the muscle, inflating it and filling it with life. The color changed, the artery to bring blood to the heart was reattached – the circle was complete again.
Tsunade sent a jolt into the muscle, making it beat.
Then she waited to see if it would continue on its own.
Nothing. She tried again.
It was silent.
The third time he helped, his blue Chakra intermingling with Tsunade's green. The shock sizzled around the dark red meat, and he prayed.
Please live.
It was silent, then a resounding ba-bump filled the suddenly silent medical tent, and Tsunade's eyes widened.
The sound came again, stronger this time. The third time it was faster, more eager to serve.
He began to breathe again.
Tsunade smiled.
"He'll make it," she informed the rest of the tent. Then she proceeded to replace the bone and muscle and skin.
He watched until the bone hid the ever-stronger muscle from view, and then he left, stepping onto an empty battlefield.
The war had been won.
-----
"Hey."
He looked around from where he stood, the Chakra seals back upon his skin and blazing red. His shirt was off, his fingers lightly resisting on the center of his chest, feeling his own heart beating right beneath the skin and wondering if his heart looked as amazing as that other man's.
He had to resist the urge to open up his chest and find out.
His eyes, however, were blank as she walked over to him.
"You DO realize you saved his life, right?"
He blinked, shrugged.
"Yeah. And?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Why did you do it?"
He smirked a little.
"Why do any of us do it?"
Her eyes sharpened.
"Answer my question."
His smirk widened a little into a smile, and he shrugged again, stepping away from the mirror and taking hold of the shirt he had draped over a nearby chair. "Because," he stated simply, tugging the shirt over his head and then sticking his hands into his pockets. He walked past her down the hallway. "I realized I respect it."
Confused, she turned to watch him walk away.
"Respect what?"
He paused, turned a little to look at her.
"That muscle."
She blinked.
"Muscle?"
He smiled a little, his eyes fond in memory.
"The heart."
As A Weakness:
"Your heart is what makes you weak."
A gasping breath, blood dripped from pale white lips.
Lips that were slowly turning blue.
"N-no, stop…" he gasped. "What're you talking about? Stop it!"
The other smiled.
"Your heart is what makes you weak, Sasuke," he stated simply. "Should you get rid of your heart, you will become strong."
"N-no…" he grunted out, swallowing thickly and then choking on the blood he had just swallowed. "It's not… not a weakness…"
"Really now?"
A slender hand took hold of the impaled sword, twisted it ruthlessly. Sasuke gasped, more blood dripped from his lips – he could feel the liquid in the crevices between his teeth, and it sickened him.
"This sword is in your heart," the other breathed icily as Sasuke coughed raggedly, turning his face away. "This sword is in your weakness. Let me cut it out Sasuke. I cut it out, you'll become strong. Strong enough to get anything you want. Strong enough to take your revenge."
"N-no…" Sasuke gasped, barely able to see, his mind and vision swimming. "Not a weakness, not a weakness…"
"I don't believe you."
The sword was pushed in deeper. Sasuke whimpered.
"If your heart is not a weakness, than what is it?"
Sasuke wondered how he could still be alive.
"My heart…" he breathed, refusing to look down at the steel protruding from his chest. "My heart… my heart… Don't take it out. Please don't take it out."
"And why not?" The blade was pushed up a little bit into the faintly beating muscle; Sasuke felt light-headed, faint. He was going to die soon – he knew it.
"My heart…" he gasped, panted, heaved. "My heart… is what…"
He swallowed.
"My heart is what makes me human."
He closed his eyes.
-----
Those same eyes snapped open, and he sat up, scowling at the darkness of the room.
That same dream again. Che.
Raising a hand, he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Stupid…" he muttered blankly, tugging the covers off him and getting out of the bed.
Padding across the dark room, he flipped the light switch that turned on his bedside lamp, and then walked across the room again, retracing his steps – this time to a full length mirror that hung on the wall next to his dresser.
Unabashedly, he looked at himself. First at his feet, his legs, his hips, his abdomen.
Then his eyes landed on his chest.
In the center of his breast plate, an ugly, crooked scar sat, clearly separating his right pectoral muscle from the left.
Raising his hand, he set his fingers against it, feeling the skin, trying to feel the warmth.
His skin was icy cold. Not surprising.
He closed his eyes. Trying to listen – trying to feel.
He felt no movement.
Heard no heartbeat.
He opened his eyes.
"A forbidden jutsu is keeping you alive." He remembered those icy words. "And I am the one in control of it. Disobey me, and I will not hesitate to kill you, my little pet."
He smirked dryly.
"So I truly am his tool now…"
He didn't care. Hadn't cared for several years now.
Then he turned, eying the shelf next to his bed. Walking over to it, he stopped in front of it, gazing at the many levels.
On the many shelves sat – all identical – glass jars.
Inside these jars sat human hearts. All neatly labeled with the name of the person he had torn it out of, along with the date and location. He had been very vigilant with remembering that data.
He felt it… imperative.
He was truly proud of his collection. Any time the opportunity presented itself he would steal the other's heart. Some of the hearts were of foes… others were of friends.
But he didn't mind. Hadn't minded for several years now.
Crossing his arms, he gazed at them, starting from the top – the most recent ones. Gazing at them, studying them for hours, he was now capable of studying the differences in the preserved hearts.
The bigger they were, the healthier, physically stronger the fighter was. A man eight feet tall that Sasuke had killed less than a month back had the largest heart to date – three times larger than the average heart he had. If the heart was black in some places, Sasuke was able to tell if the person had had heart problems where they had needed surgery – sometimes on multiple occasions. Scars in the muscle informed him of past clashes with blade and power – a scratch here, a jagged scar there. Based on the health of the heart, he could tell if the person had smoked, or if they had had a poor diet.
The physical heart told him more than speaking to the person could ever tell him.
His eyes reached the dead center of the shelves, where two especially precious jars sat right next to each other.
The one on the right was his own – he thought his heart was particularly the deepest in red color. The preservative was a clear liquid, so nothing was hidden from him. He supposed it was his thirst for blood back then – and now even – that had stained his heart such a gorgeous color. No other heart in his collection could match it.
Well, except one maybe.
He took a long moment to gaze at his own heart. Even years after, he still found it hard to believe that this was the same muscle his master had cut out.
But, ah. The long, ugly scar upon it – an even darker, more luxurious shade of red than the rest of the muscle – proved to him that it indeed was his.
He sometimes thought that the heart changed colors depending on his mood – on how much blood he had shed that day.
Then he wondered if that muscle was still connected to him somehow.
He doubted it.
But he touched the empty space in his chest anyway.
Then his eyes went to the jar next to his.
This heart he admired nearly as much as he did his own. Unlike his, this heart was a fiery red and nearly halfway bulged – as if it were just getting ready to beat again. He had no idea how he had managed to preserve it like that – sometimes he wondered if that heart was still alive – if it beat quietly to itself while he was asleep or out of the room.
Sometimes he wondered if all the other hearts did that too.
But this other heart was very special. It was a bit bigger than his own – because of the way it was preserved in half-beat – and a nice little scar covered the lower left piece. He remembered the day that scar was probably made, and it made him smile.
He was proud of that little scar. He had turned the jar where it was visible to all.
He had also made sure to hide the back of the heart, where one would discover a little chunk of it was missing.
Heh – he couldn't have resisted.
Taking a bite of that heart.
He had wondered if the other had been able to feel it – even though they had been dead when Sasuke had held that weakly beating muscle in his hand, like it was trying to even then escape him.
His fist had tightened, and he had vowed he would never let that heart go.
It was too precious to him – he just hadn't known any other way to express it.
When he looked over at his own heart – the first in the series, preserved perfectly in its little glass jar – he knew why.
But he didn't care.
His eyes went to the labeling at the bottom of the jar.
Konoha's Two-Hundredth Birthday, the Hokage Tower, the Day He Became Rokudaime.
He smiled a little.
Uzumaki, Naruto.
Maybe his master had been right. Maybe his heart HAD been a weakness. His eyes went over the other hearts, which were also set on that same shelf.
The Festival of Cherry Blossoms, Konoha Park: Haruno, Sakura
The Thirtieth Anniversary of the Nine-Tailed Fox Attack, The Village Hidden in the Stars: Hatake, Kakashi
Hokage Day, The Land of Rice Patties: Sannin, Tsunade
The Eighteenth Anniversary of the Uchiha Massacre, Konoha Graveyard: Uchiha, Itachi
The list went on – he would think he had every single rookie nine heart in his collection, along with the Toad Master and the head of the Hyuuga clan. The life-forces of the annoying ninja duo with the crazy green jumpsuits and the prodigy of the Byakugon were also his to keep and cherish.
Konoha was gone, destroyed – wiped off the face of the earth. His master ruled with iron scales and fangs of ivory. The remains of the Akatsuki were being hunted – Sasuke was to be put on a mission tomorrow to go crush Deidara where he was hiding with his silly clay dragons and landmines. Having faced him once before, Sasuke already knew exactly how the battle was going to play out.
He was going to win, and Deidara's heart was going to be his. To put between Kisame's and Pein's.
His master was on top of the world. All because he got it into his head to cut Sasuke's heart out. Sasuke had done the rest. Almost without being told. It was just… instinctive.
His eyes went to Naruto's heart again. Vaguely, he wondered if Naruto would've become so strong had his heart been yanked away.
But, no. He shook his head. Naruto's power was his heart.
That's what made his heart so special. Because cruelty and chill overcame passion and determination. Sasuke had proven that the day he had killed Naruto in front of hundreds of people atop the Hokage Tower.
He hadn't wanted Naruto's body – hadn't wanted the nine-tailed fox. The demon had died with Naruto.
No, he had just wanted Naruto's heart. The body had been thrown over the edge of the tower to impale itself upon the people below.
The day after, Konoha was burned to the ground. Nothing remained of it now.
Only his master's face everywhere, with his obedient, silent pet forever by his side.
He wondered if Naruto hated him from wherever he was now. Probably.
But he didn't care.
Then his eyes went to his own heart. Reaching out, he took it from the shelf, cradling it in both hands.
"My weakness…" he breathed. "If it is my weakness… then why am I keeping it?"
Suddenly he was overtaken with a senseless rage as he finally realized. There was nothing now. Nothing to kill, no more hearts to tear out of bloody dead chests. What was the point of his collection if he couldn't expand it? It was worthless now.
The collection of weaknesses was worthless now.
Enraged, he took the jar, and threw it towards the others.
Glass shattered, liquid poured over the floor, weaknesses were impaled by sand turned beautiful by flame.
Every single glass jar shattered, broken, became even more worthless than the weakness inside it.
Except one.
One jar remained. After Sasuke's rage had passed and he was able to think clearly again, he realized it.
One heart remained. Untouched, liquid from other jars dripping down the untouched, unmarked glass.
Blinking, Sasuke walked over to it, padding lightly around the glass shards.
Reaching out, he took the jar in hand, gazed at it.
The label was ruined, but he recognized the heart.
The one with the scar on the bottom right part. The one with the teeth marks in the back.
The one that still seemed alive.
"Naruto."
At a loss for words, he gazed at the heart – gazed at the heart that seemed like it was going to start beating again at any moment.
As he gazed at it, his eyes narrowed. Just a little.
"Maybe… it wasn't a weakness after all…"
As A Trophy:
"It doesn't matter that I love you, does it?"
He paused, staring down at the other in shock. There was thunder above him, the ground lit up with lightning. There would be rain soon.
"Wh-what…?" He breathed as he stared down into black orbs. "What – why? What do you mean?"
"I would've thought it obvious."
The voice was blunt, knowing.
"It doesn't matter that I love you, does it?"
He swallowed.
"I…" he stammered. "I-I…"
"You're right, it doesn't matter," the other stated, closing his eyes and looking away. "You have your orders. So just do it. You'll get in trouble if you don't."
His throat had gone dry.
"Sasuke…"
He closed his eyes.
"WHY?!" He demanded, flinching away. "WHY?! WHY EVEN BOTHER TELLING ME THIS NOW?!"
"Because." Sasuke sighed. "I thought you might want to know before you killed me, Naruto. That's all. It's okay if it doesn't matter. I'm okay with dying. Heh…" he smirked grimly. "I knew it was coming. I've known it was coming for a good few years now."
"And you…" Naruto breathed, staring down at the other. "I don't believe you!" He exclaimed. "I don't believe you do! I think you're just telling me that so I'll let you go! You heartless bastard!"
Suddenly their positions were switched – Naruto was on the bottom now, Sasuke straddling him.
"You're right," he breathed. The cold, chilling voice made Naruto want to cry. "You're right. Completely. I don't have a heart."
Then he leaned down a bit, and kissed Naruto softly – barely a grace of the lips.
When he spoke again, it was warmer.
"I don't have a heart because I gave it to you."
Naruto's eyes widened as Sasuke continued.
"But, if you want…"
Sasuke took Naruto's hand, set it on his chest – right over his heart.
"You can take it out yourself. You can give the old woman my body, keep the heart for yourself. It'd be like a trophy. Wouldn't you like that?"
Naruto stared up at him in shock.
"Sasuke, that's sick!"
"But it's what you want."
Sasuke pushed Naruto's hand against his chest insistently.
"That's what both of us want. You've always wanted my heart, and I've always wanted you to have it. Take it Naruto. Do it."
Naruto flinched away, his hand curling into a fist.
"No! I can't! I won't! Don't tell me that!"
Sasuke gave him an even gaze.
"Please, Naruto."
Sasuke's blade was held to Naruto's throat, his eyes red and alight with the Mangeyokou.
Oh, yes. He had that now. He had killed Itachi.
For threatening Naruto.
Why hadn't the blonde realized it before?
"I don't want your heart Sasuke."
"Yes you do."
The Sharingan swirled with a greater intensity.
"I will kill you over and over again until you do. I want this Naruto – do it!"
Naruto was enraged.
"You WANT to die?!" He snapped, snarling. Sasuke blinked, smirked.
"Yes," he stated. "Yes. Yes I do."
Taking Naruto's hand in his again, Sasuke pressed Naruto's nails – which had sharpened due to the fox – against his bare chest.
"Do it, please. Keep it for yourself – preserve it, coat it in gold – I don't care. Just keep it safe, keep it yours. No one else can have it – I won't give it to the earth. Let them take anything from me – just not my heart."
He pressed Naruto's nails into his chest. They began to puncture bare skin.
"After all, that belongs to you."
Naruto's eyes had widened. Now they were narrowed.
"You're a fool Sasuke."
"It runs in the family."
"Shut up!"
Naruto pushed Sasuke away, making the other's back hit the stony ground, five pinpricks of blood – in a circle – on the pale, perfect chest. The smell of blood hit the blonde's nostrils, and he had to fight against the instinct to rip Sasuke to shreds.
"Get out of here Sasuke…" he muttered. "Get out of here. Now. Do it!"
Sasuke shifted, sat up, looked at him.
Spoke a single word.
"No."
Enraged, Naruto launched himself at Sasuke, tackling him headlong and sending them rolling across the stone and into the water.
Gasping, they both raised their heads for air, but Naruto took Sasuke by the jaw and threw him bodily out of the lake, sending him crashing into the sheer rock wall nearby.
"You want me to have your heart Sasuke…?" He growled heatedly – the fox had nearly taken control of all of Naruto's common sense. "You really want that?!" Without waiting for an answer, he lunged forward. "FINE!"
His nails – the same nails Sasuke had invited – struck the Uchiha in the chest, the hand nearly vanishing to the wrist as the nails struck the breast plate, broke through it, shattered it, to reach the heart the Uchiha so desperately wanted the other to have.
The Uchiha gasped, shuddered, whimpered as merciless fingers wrapped around the tender beating heart. It tried to beat even beneath the grip, but the response was tightening fingers and a heated snarl.
There was silence for an instant.
"Is this what you wanted?" Naruto breathed softly. Sasuke raised his head to look up at him.
He gazed up into the red eyes of the demon fox.
He smiled a little.
"I couldn't think of…" he gasped. "A better way to die…"
Naruto gazed evenly at him and Sasuke – for a moment – thought he could see Naruto from their childhood gazing back at him.
But, ah of course. That was the past. They were men now.
And one of them was about to die.
"You're going to die so easily?" Naruto asked – as if the full weight of what was happening was finally sinking in. "You're going to let me kill you? Just like that?"
Sasuke chuckled a little.
"Of course," he replied. "After leading such a fulfilled life such as mine, you have nothing else to do with yourself but die."
Sarcasm. A hint of bitterness. Naruto sighed.
"You really don't believe that at all…" he breathed. "Do you…" raising his eyes, he looked up at the other. "Sasuke?"
The Uchiha could only smile. If he had an answer to that, he didn't say it.
"Just take care of it," he breathed, closing his eyes. "That's the only thing I want… after death."
Naruto's eyes narrowed.
"You treat death like it's not death at all," he commented – almost snarled.
Sasuke's eyes opened just enough for the Uchiha to look up at him through his lashes.
"That's because…" he breathed. "It's not."
Then Naruto was ripping his heart out and Sasuke's eyes were glazing and becoming dull and full of nothing and all and yet everything and his head was lolling back and becoming lifeless like the puppet that he had been all his life.
Naruto stepped back, allowed the body to fall to the earth, and gazed at the still-struggling muscle in his hands.
"Sasuke…" he breathed. "You're…" his fingers clenched. "Pathetic."
He made as if to throw the muscle into the lake, but paused, lowering his arm and gazing at it.
"Sasuke…" he murmured. "You're…" his eyes closed. "Right."
Holding the heart to his chest, he turned and scaled the cliff.
When the retrieval team arrived, they would ask questions, and he needed to be ready.
-----
"Naruto."
He looked up a day later.
"Aye, old hag?"
Tsunade's eye twitched, but she continued.
"The retrieval team informed me that Sasuke Uchiha was punched through the heart."
Naruto blinked.
"Right. And?"
Tsunade raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well? Where is it?"
Naruto didn't blink.
"I ate it."
One couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.
-----
Upon getting back to his apartment, Naruto closed all the windows and drew all the blinds.
Stepping into the kitchen, he opened the freezer door of his refrigerator and pulled out a simple plastic bag.
Inside laid Sasuke's heart, frozen and preserved.
He felt a little bad though. Sticking Sasuke's heart in a freezer wasn't exactly equivalent to coating it in gold.
But he could think of no other way.
He sighed.
"I'm sorry, Sasuke," he breathed.
Gazing at the heart for one more moment, he placed it once more in the back of his freezer and closed the door.
As he sat on the couch sharpening his weapons, he smiled a little.
Sure, he hadn't given it its dues, but that didn't matter.
The fact that he had Sasuke's heart in the first place was more of a trophy than anything else.
End Four Ways:
Scar
Favorite one out of this batch: Number three - As A Weakness.
That's just too damn sexy. :3
Longest group to date as well. This clocks in at twenty pages.
Review, my lovelies?
Much LOVE! 3
Ja ne!
DDB