Silence of the Mojitos

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto…and that particulars from politics line is from the book, "Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" by Gregory McGuire.

Chapter Four: Adamant

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First Wave

Everyone knew what Orochimaru was seeking. It was the method by which he sought it that was unknown. It was the method that was a secret, and it was the method which Suigetsu had been a part of.

It was the method that Sasuke abhorred.

"Stop," Suigetsu said in a strained voice, "Don't…"
"If I'm going to tell the story, I will have to tell the whole story. You can't divorce your particulars from your politics." For the first time in days, the hermit's voice was something bordering on gentle.

"Fine. Don't expect me to listen though. I'm going to raid your fridge."

"I'm a hermit you idiot," the irritation was back, "I don't have a refrigerator!"

"What? Like, not even one?"

There was a door in the tower that everyone, even Kabuto, was forbidden to enter. It was a fabulously glamorous door, all gilded gold and encrusted gems and sandalwood finish. Being situated on the tippy top floor of the tower, which had nothing but the door and a ponderously large window opposite it, and a spiraling metal-grille staircase in the smack center, it wasn't visited often at all. In fact, Sasuke was the only one to come up there beside Orochimaru himself. He came for the window, to harden his heart against his brother. The window offered a stunning panorama of Sound Village. The sheer height was impressive, and the vertigo that accompanied it was worth it. From here you couldn't see the filth and poverty, a must-have accessory for most third world countries, and it might have been mistaken for a quaint tourist stop.

A key phrase. Might have been.

The door itself was stuck awkwardly on the circular wall, and Sasuke's lack of interest had to do with the fact that the wall it hugged had no bulge behind it. The top of the tower was maybe twenty, thirty feet in diameter, as opposed to a whopping eleven hundred feet at the bottom. And to Sasuke it was evident that there was no tangible room beyond that door. If it opened conventionally, it opened to the open air.If t opened unconventionally…

Sasuke had long learnt to not be a curious child. To be concerned with the real world.It was curious concept, seeing how he lusted after hate, which is quite intangible itself.

Reality is not tangible. But the boy would learn that in due course.

"Nothing interested him except his brother and revenge," Suigetsu commented dully, and then perked up, "And me."

"Weren't you going to raid my refrigerator?" asked the old man, who'd gotten used to the idea of telling the story without interruptions.

"You don't have one, remember?"

"There's a pantry in the last cave."

"Oh hell yes."

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Second Wave

He spent a few hours searching the town in a stupor before it struck him that he did not know what he was searching for. He asked himself—what is it that you want?—and stopped short in his tracks when the answer proved ridiculously hard to find.

What did he want?

Suigetsu.

Shut up. What did he want?
Sui—shut up.

A safe place. Somewhere where he was loved and accepted. Somewhere where other people bore the weight of responsibility. Somewhere where he was the protected instead of the protector.

Suigetsu's arms.

Oh no, Sasuke told himself, he's out of his equation. Doesn't exist. He's dead. Better yet, he was never alive. Now, what do you want?

To die.

How ridiculous. How impertinent. Sasuke's breath quickened, as though he'd just run a few hard miles. How patently romantic. As if being without Suigetsu made his life worthless. As if there weren't others who cared for him.

Who?

Naruto, of course. Yes, that made sense. Naruto had never given up on him. He would go back to Konohagakure and resume his life he'd led before he'd left. Before his life became a web of poison. Before Suigetsu. Before…bloody…secrets.

But who was there in Konohagakure besides Naruto? The little voice whined on. No one. Sakura he would have nothing to offer to, even if she still loved him after all these years of pain and rejection. Kakashi had long ago made his disgust evident. He wracked his head for others he'd been close to. None came to mind.

Naruto would take him in, though.

Naruto will be an outcast again if he welcomes an Uchiha traitor with open arms. And he will. He'll throw his doors and arms open wide for you to enter, and doom himself.

So? He could be selfish. He was perfectly capable of being selfish.

Except there is no point.

No. There was no point. In his most tender years, the point of his existence was to ape his brother and to make his father proud. When the latter died by the former's hands, his point in life was to recreate the clan (even if he found it a repugnant task) and kill his nii-san. Orochimaru had taken care of the first—strands of his DNA were embedded in over a thousand embryos world wide, statistics claimed that at least four hundred would possess the sharingan. Plenty to carry on the family legacy. He'd killed his older brother. Now what was the point of his existence?

He had his whole life sprawled before him like some impossibly lush valley of possibilities, and he found he had no will to traverse it.

Not with all those secrets weighing him down anyway.

He went from depressed and distressed to stable and suicidal in a frighteningly short time.

A sudden rush of faith moved him to seek a shrine, finding no tree of enlightenment, he chose a Shinto temple. Hoping it wasn't too sacrilege, he bowed to the pagan gods and thought fiercely of the compassion of the Buddha. Around him people muttered their prayers to their listening deities. The farmer's, the wife's, the sweetheart's, the child's.

"Some rain for the fields…"

"…extra money for the daughter's wedding…"

"I just need him healthy…"

"The dango needs to be sweeter, kami-sama, and I hope my brother falls into a ditch but doesn't hurt himself too much…"

Sasuke focused all his energy on one thought. Kill me tonight as I sleep, or I will make your life as difficult as I possibly can.

Satisfied with his ultimatum, the Uchiha rose and glared briefly at the idols before turning on his heels to return to the inn.

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Third Wave

"Dark haired lad, broody eyes, pale skin?" the offensively broad man scratched his armpit and then squinted at Suigetsu, ponderously picking his nose. "Aye, I've seen him."

"Where?" the cannibal was disgusted by the man. Please, if there was any sort of kami-sama at all, at all, keeping an eye out for him let him never be forced to eat something half as unsavory as this.

"Came into town all haughty and proud, the pretty little bastard." The man leered unpleasantly at the boy. "Hah! Pretty little bastard. I've fucked every kind of thing there is to fuck. All sorts of women, half as many boys, and twice as many animals. And this pretty little bastard—hah! He spurns me, frosty as you please. Turns away from me, from me, and walks right into town. I followed him for a while. Went into the inn."

A rage raged in Suigetsu. The ache to kill the repellant creature, against the desperate need to lay sight (hands) on Sasuke as soon as possible. As was usual, the pro-Sasuke feeling won out. He turned away from the man and dashed off into the throngs, looking for the inn. It wasn't awfully hard to find, being the only one in town. The receptionist paused in the urgent act of farting to glower at Suigetsu. "He's out," she said.

"I'll wait."

"Suit yourself."

"Got anything to drink?" the cannibal asked, "I've been traveling. Obviously…"

"Paying customers only."

He shot her a irreverent look and made an irritated noise. He poised himself on the edge of a sinfully uncomfortable wooden slat chair, and waited for his love.

Waited for his arrival.

Waited for his love's arrival, so that he might be able to explain himself, and win back fair lad's heart.

And coax him into buying him water, perhaps. He was so fucking thirsty.

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Dude. I'm so...sleepy.