(Re-Edited Version)

Okay, so I've discovered sannin is not a title or rank. It literally means "3 people", and the complete collective name for Jiraiya, Tsunade and Orochimaru is Densetsu no Sannin, "Legendary Three Ninja". The term sennin means hermit, which was primarily used by Jiraiya as the Frog Hermit, and then later on Kabuto in the War chapters. I admit I've been using the term wrongly, and will find the time to edit them, but beginning this chapter I'd like to correct it. :)

Disclaimer: I only own this fiction and the theories presented here. I do not own Naruto.

Gods of Vindication
Part VII: Dream Surgery

"I know right now you can't tell, but stay a while and maybe then you'll see, a different side of me…"

Blasphemous thoughts swelled in Sasuke's mind for the few days that passed each time he caught a glimpse of his former teammate. He'd like to believe life went on normally for himself, but nothing plagued him more than the insistence of avoiding the presence of Sakura.

He never bothered to understand what came over him the night he kissed her, nor did he want to remember, pushing it out of his mind each time he was reminded of it. Everything turned into a dizzying world of day and night where he slept and trained without thinking, following on his body's pattern and natural tendency to shun anything or anyone who bothered vying for his attention. Being under the same roof made it hard for him to ignore her completely so his mornings consisted of freezing taijutsu sessions where he dragged Karin out into the cold wasteland lying just beyond the village limits and exhausting himself until dusk arrived. When they arrived home, bedraggled and wet with melted snow and sporting superficial injuries, he'd let the redhead approach the Konoha medic for healing. For his own damages, he'd brush past and lock himself in his room.

After dinner, after the niceties of grabbing his food from the table and eating it alone in the receiving room, after showering the numbness away with hot jets on tired muscle, only would he allow himself to breath easily as if he was done dealing with her for the day. There was hardly a chance where he was not reminded of her presence. The very knowledge she existed was a constant thorn in his side, causing the terrible urge to create as much distance between them as possible. He resigned himself to constantly be irritatingly conscious of her when in the same room until he casually made his exit. In the hallways he would look dead, refusing even acknowledgement. Almost visibly he cringed at the sound of her voice, the sound of her doing whatever she was doing even if she was a door away, wanting to walk out whenever she directly addressed him.

She did pick up on his strange behavior and did make an effort to break away from him, not pressing nor complaining of the occasional Hn's and grunts she received as responses, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. A heady rush of anger filled him each time she glanced at him and he'd pretend he didn't notice when all he wanted to do was yell at her. For all her sensitivity, Karin did not seem to notice the strained communication between him and Sakura, and he knew it may have something to do with her special ability.

The first day he began training again, the first night after the kiss, his redheaded teammate got lucky and managed to crack a rib. Going to Kabuto was, of course, thrown out the window as an ill decision and dealing with Sakura was not worth it. That night when Karin finally had come and knocked on his door he yanked her into his room and clamped a hand down hard on her mouth, stifling the cry of pain as he ripped open the first few inches of her blouse and sank his teeth into the flesh above her collarbones in a jarring bite. His fingers only managed to slide off her lips once the blissfully numbing sensation of sucking on her blood eased the pain of his injuries and healed him from the inside out.

It was a strange thing, her ability. It was everything, in that it was the only thing he needed at the time. And it was nothing, because Orochimaru had him use her this way when he'd came fresh into Sound as pathetically weak and unable to sustain his guard in fights. Tact allowed both him and Karin not to speak of this. A blood for life force exchange, ideally to be only used for serious trauma. The ability was impractical and involved chakra depletion on her part, but he would much rather do this route than speak to Sakura. Besides, the redhead did not seem to have any objections herself, and it remained an unspoken secret between them.

His vigilant avoidance of his now-blonde former teammate, however, couldn't go on forever. He could not wish her to nonexistence. He knew it, and when the time came to an end and it struck back at him with a whiplash despite his effort for only showing cold shoulders and piercing glares, he found he wanted to crush her in a livid rage.

The Uchiha had descended halfway down the stairs after a healing session with Karin to head into the kitchen for something to eat when a glimpse of the living room halted him. His hand clenched the balustrade as the familiar smell hit him first, fruity and light and crisp, the scent of peaches infecting the lower floor. He loathed the smell which reminded him too much of something he should not have done. The hiss of his temper only boiled upon perceiving her silhouette against the fire, sitting cross legged on the couch and reading another book.

Against the light, the fire caused a halo of slightly disheveled hair glow around her bowed head. Ebony brows furrowed, palpitating emotions resuscitated, black eyes narrowed at the form, his lips pulling down into a fierce frown. The uncanny situation struck him so much his next step down creaked upon the timber of the stair and in an alarmed instant she had turned around, too fast for him to escape without detection.

Green eyes instantly were fixed upon him and he felt himself tremble in self anger for doing what he had done, anger at her for being in practically the same circumstance as when the kiss had happened. If she believed she could deceive him into thinking was a mere coincidence, the peaches, the books, her alone in the living room, she would be mistaken. The blood raging in his head drowned out every thought.

As she opened her mouth to say something Sasuke had hastened down the stairs in furious steps and burst out the front door into a flurry of snowflakes. He needed to regain control over himself before he completely lost it. He needed to not be near her, and in the rapidly plummeting temperature, deigned to search for his teacher who seemed lost in his senile musings somewhere in the village.

ooo000ooo

"What do you want from her?" he demanded, standing beside the table of his master as he sat alone in one of the countless restaurants in town. It was not hard to track the man. He did not even seem to be hiding anyway. "And don't be giving me piddly bullshit about your arms."

Glistening black hair shimmered in the lamplights on the wall when the man moved to look up at the Uchiha as they remained in the midst of milling people coming in and out of the establishment. The jutting cheekbones cast shadows on his face, gold eyes glittering with an ethereal splendor that broke as soon as a maliciously small grin twisted his lips. The leader of Sound leaned back in his chair, sticking his chopsticks in his rice bowl upright in front of Sasuke, clasping his hands together as he watched him.

"Are you worried about something, Sasuke-kun?" asked his feminine voice dark and heavy despite the bright atmosphere of the place. He did not belong here, and so did Sasuke. They both were out of place in this civilian village.

"Just tell me what you're planning to do." He grit his teeth, tempted to upend the table. Orochimaru was mocking him.

"Ara, Sasuke-kun. You are so hasty," he intoned. Cat like eyes were cast downward to a bowl of soup. a lanky white hand grasping the wooden spoon, the sennin's pallor pale and uncanny, the bones at the back of his hand slightly raised against the smooth skin and following the movement as he stirred. It was odd seeing those arms so alive. All throughout his time with the man he was witness to how lifeless they had been. Whether he could reaccess his forbidden techniques was something he needed to find out more information on but he felt secure enough that the old man had not tried anything as of yet.

He would not repeat losing his temper here. "You told me bringing her here was for my benefit. I don't see any change."

"Of course. We'll get around eventually."

"I'd rather we get around to it right now," he rebutted as flat and civilly as he could.

A freezing shudder passed through Sasuke when the stirring stopped, those terrible slit eyes meeting his own as the expression became rigid and put upon. The hand let go of the spoon then smoothed the creases on his beige coat as he stood up lackadaisically, chair screeching as it dragged on the floor. Orochimaru was taller than him in this body, towering at a head and a half higher with a slight build, a soft snort from his mentor in derision of his statement as he wiped his lips gingerly with a paper napkin.

"It seems I've overlooked you these past days," he intoned, giving Sasuke a sardonic smile and placing a hand firmly on his shoulder to lead him out. "Why don't we attend to that training then, my dear student?"

The hand remained heavy on his shoulder and as he turned to glare at it, noticed a strange familiarity of its appearance. As his mind reached out to try and grab at whatever was nagging him, a waitress jostling him from behind broke the peculiar feeling he had and erased any importance it had at the moment.

Looking back to respond to the venomous grin, Orochimaru was demented if he thought he could be merely brushed aside like a child. If the old man was hiding something, he needed to find out. As one of the sennin, he had as much intelligence as dangerously possible and wouldn't be so gullible to believe Sasuke would hand over his body at the drop of a request.

The way those snake eyes watched the Uchiha's every move, how he delighted in witnessing his progress, it wasn't for the benefit of killing Itachi. It was for the benefit of inhabiting the body who could destroy fields of men with as little effort as possible, to be able to use his eyes to gain innumerable techniques in a flash.

Sasuke's bloodline was what the sennin was after, not his individual growth. This was where he had to be careful, because if his mentor somehow already knew he wasn't a willing pawn the moment the body transfer process was initiated, the man surrounded by legends and years of experience could as well be already planning how to counter his resistance. Whether Sakura had any involvement in this, unconsciously since she had made it clear she wanted him back in Konoha as is, the sooner he found out then the better to prevent jeopardizing his escape.

Obsidian eyes narrowed up at the macabre gold ones glimmering in the lamplight. He needed to be careful. Brushing the hand aside, feeling the softness of the skin, the matte texture as he flicked its weight off his shoulder with his wrist, he gave the old man an icy glare.

"Then train me," he challenged, wanting to catch any sign of betrayal in those slippery features. Any muscle twitch, any blink, any catch in that morbid expression which might give away something his teacher knew that he didn't. "Train me tonight."

His mentor chuckled and released his shoulder, reaching into one of his pockets and leaving a few crisp ryou notes on the table without responding. Only when he made a gesture to steer Sasuke toward the entrance did the eerie feeling return. In a split second decision, he decided to nail down whatever it is that bothered him some other time. For now, as they stepped outside to meet the wintry gale of village, the avenger tried to put his mind at ease.

~x~

Everything betrayed him. Eventually his body did as well.

He hated him. He spit in his face, twisting away from the hands on his hips slick with sweat and blood and what else he couldn't think of. All of his thoughts were in a blur, the sunlight streaming in the window was the color of gold of some dumbass' hair and the soiled sheets were like some annoying girl's eyes, the building pressure as he was entered, skin pulling, biting his lips at the increasing rhythm.

He did not want this. He tried to fight it each time and each time, he failed. No matter how much he convinced himself as disgust roiled in the pits of his stomach and the recesses of his mind, all the defenses and screaming lies gave way to breathless panting as he tried to keep himself in control, fighting back senselessly until everything disintegrated into a tremor wracking his body. Muscles pulled taut, lungs restricted, eyes shut tight in denial, and for an eternal moment he would be lost in the throes of a hated climax gripping every particle of consciousness cursing him into oblivion.

Always it was him. Always those hated eyes watching him after he shuddered and collapsed into the mattress and wished him death threats with every .

"I hate you too, Sasuke-kun."

~x~

The house was dark and silent when he walked through the front door, the chill permeating the air grim in the way it awoke memories of the night he came home to his family's massacre. Sighing in deep discontent, he shut the door behind him and moved over to the couch, sinking into it amid the creaking of rusted springs and squeaking of soft leather. Unlike the horrific night of his memory, he was filled with peace as he morosely watched the falling snow through the large window panes, lost in the blankness of his thoughts.

Clutching his ribs, the injury registered as a sharp pain with each inhale as the muscles and tendons flexed a couple broken bones. He tried not to think of the pain, enduring it as he had done with every other one. Even if his body was hurting, it did not compare to what he had gone through before, much more it would pale into insignificance against what would happen when he'd finally meet his brother. A torn muscle in his arm, the sprained crick in his neck, they were all irrelevant. He yearned for the warmth in the fireplace now devoid of heat in its empty cavity.

Ebony eyes narrowed as he stretched his tired feet, converging them into the blocks of pale brightness cast onto the floor timbers by the fluorescent lamps outside in the street. Minuscule shadows from the falling flakes danced on the glass and the lower half of his body bathed in the ghoulish blue-white illumination. Orochimaru had been brutal this time, barely holding back. He wasn't worse for wear but the session gave him perspective on where exactly he stood in range of the power or experience of such men as his mentor.

People around him told him he was a genius. It was fed to him day in and out after the massacre, something they took to believe as they viewed the last of his clan walk among them. He doubted that, however, because for him a genius need not be someone who had to run away and search for help of any kind. A genius would have to grow up knowing themselves what they wanted, how they wanted it to happen, and have the ability to make all of those happen all through their own strength and cunning. The only genius he knew was the Uchiha killer.

The man he called brother could be pegged with all the defamations he could think of yet one thing he would have to accept was he had been the perfect shinobi hadn't his moral code been warped into a psychotic monstrosity. There was no special preparation, no hesitation, no feelings nor hesitation. It sucked him into the void of hate he'd been falling into ever since. Nothing appeared to have turned him. Itachi just was.

Out of the weary haze Sasuke was submerged in his eyes distractedly alighted on a bird appearing out of nowhere and fluttering onto the windowsill. Gray-colored attention fully fixed on the creature, taking in the gloss of pitch black feathers and the way it quickly set its judging amber gaze on him. It cocked its head to the side, a few times beating its wide dark wings that caught the light and refracted into a rainbow sheen on black feathers, inky feet scattering the snow piled up against the glass. From his glum somnolence on the living room sofa, the talons of the bird were curved and big and gleaming.

He met its ogling stare with a feral baring of teeth, something it reacted to by flapping its wings frantically as though it understood the gesture. His slight satisfaction of surprising the interrupting animal was cut short as a sudden memory entered his mind of a certain someone who controlled this exact creature.

Narrowing his gaze at the raven, he watched in rigid silence as it began to tap at one of the panes with its beak, blinking beady ocher eyes before cocking its head to the other side. (Could it possibly be...?) It was late in the night to be still up and he was probably wasn't thinking straight. This was just a ragged bird flown out of its path.

Relaxing back into the cushions, he could not see anything attached to its leg that could possibly make it a messenger of sorts, and resigned himself to refusing rest and lounging in the soreness of his body. There was no additional need to panic over something he could kill with a flick of a blade. Paranoia directed he couldn't possibly be that stupid to be sending such obvious things when it was clear these animals weren't from part of this country.

Before he could delve into debating whether to ignore the raven or kill it, his well trained hearing picked up on the creaking of a particular floorboard in the staircase. A rush of adrenaline spikes his blood and causes him to throw a sharp glance at who dared intrude on him nursing wounds and a bruised ego. A morbid stare pinned the blonde Sakura to the stairs, a crumpled white quilt hanging around her shoulders. Her face told him she was just as loathe to be discovered as he had been at finding her.

He didn't know what to say, choosing to peer at her through the shoddy tangles of his hair. A foot was slid out of the folds of the blanket and pressing its toes into the next stair down and likely the culprit of unmasking her sneaking around, one hand clutching tight at the comforter as green eyes testily looked back at him. Half a heartbeat later the heel of her foot finally bore her weight down on the boards completing the pitchy squeak as she dashed past the stairs and into the kitchen behind him.

His gaze returned to the illuminated blocks of light on the floor, to the throb of pain in the pulled muscle of his leg with his dirty feet stretched out before him. The blackbird at the window was gone, the ethereal glow of the streetlamps and falling pinprick shadows of snow only curled his lips in fretful silence. What was she doing awake? This was no time to dawdle about.

As if an answer to his question there was a clink of glass from the far down the hall, the quietness of the hour carrying the resounding trickle of water as it was filled at the tap. Thirsty. He hadn't realized his throat was parched as well, leather squeaking under the shift of his weight. The broken ribs moved agonizingly under his cradling hand, cautiously letting go of a breath he was holding. I want to drink.

Soon thereafter he could hear the cup she used being set down on the tiled surface of the kitchen counter, clacking with a faint echo of the night in the rustle of her blanket as it swept the floor. Sasuke was met with a dry mouth when he tried to swallow, calculating how long he could stay up in his condition to wait for Karin and the gush of hot blood to fix him.

He did not bother looking at Sakura as she paused by the foot of the stairs to turn her head to him, wanting more than anything for her to get out of his life as soon as she could. There was nothing left for her to do here. He could care no longer for whatever Orochimaru needed of this sad, pathetic excuse of a kunoichi. He needed to keep moving forward, keep being who he was, step in to fill the avenger's shoes in the quest for power and the destruction of Uchiha Itachi.

"You're hurt," came her frail voice slicing through the merging dark and moonlight of the hallucination he was falling into. Precise and unwavering, her tone cleanly reached him as the sound made him twitch.

This was the first time she'd addressed him directly after he began ignoring her, feeling the heat rise under his shirt. He did not know how to deal with her because he merely assumed he'd ignore her when she tried. Now, as she found the courage to actually deal with him, he felt embarrassed and angry for being actually affected by the petty situation.

"I always am," he replied hoarsely, baritone catching in his throat from dehydration and weakness. Weak. He hated being so weak, not bothering to even face her as he replied. His eyes were kept firm on the snowy landscape past the foggy windowpanes.

The silence after his statement was so long he thought she might have left. Just as he was about to turn and look, the creak of wood boards underfoot came closer. The brush of the comforter on the sofa was enough to make him frown at the piling white frost on the glass.

"Not like this," answered Sakura, daring to step closer to him, too close as she came to the edge of his vision. "You're not always... This wasn't you and Karin, right?"

No, you dumb bitch. Like she could actually hurt me if I wanted her to. He held his tongue.

She was fidgeting, he could tell as much without looking at her. A moment longer and the cushions beside him dipped under the weight of her knee, the cloth of the comforter languidly sliding across the smooth surface of the leather as she lowered herself. He finally turned to stare at her eye to eye with a raised eyebrow. "Don't you have to go back to sleep?"

There was a flinch in her features as she tried to reign in the worry splashed over her face. Too obvious. However pathetic she appeared to be, for a strange reason his mentor was intent on wanting her around and unharmed. The situation called for an inhuman sense of control on his part, as he constantly found himself unable to deal with the lacking points of her character, being so innocent and useless as she was.

"I..." Sakura stammered, the dimpling in her chin suggesting deep unrest on her part. Green eyes were washed out of most of the emerald by the beams of the fluorescent lights outside, and her achromatized gaze fell to his hand clutching his injured side. "If you want, I could..."

He disliked how she never could make a coherent sentence around him. Talking to Karin or even that godawful Kabuto did not elicit this simpering. Nor does the curdling vehemence she used on Orochimaru resemble anything of the sopping mess she turned into when he was the one in front of her. He knew why, of course, but it only made him disdainful all the same. A certain morbid satisfaction awoke when she blundered like a fool before him, teasing him to try and see just up to where would her passivity lead her to. Legs spread and whimpering his name, most like. It repulsed him.

His gaze settled tenaciously on her as her brow furrowed, the tangled mess of blonde hair falling around her shoulders. Despite the ill lighting he noticed the bleaching had begun to fade and the light pink roots were emerging.

Soft hands emerged from the blanket, and she watched him as he watched her, carefully reaching out to his injured chest. Even with the heat burning his ears, all sense of cold forgotten, her touch tender as they tried to uncover the broken ribs.

How could he have forgotten she was a medic? You were always so useless. His past injuries were probably noticed by her, only she'd never approached him before since she could have assessed them to be non fatal. Orochimaru had not been too kind. He fussed, her glance sliding down to his mottled skin bruised purple beneath his dirt-caked shirt. The jolt of pain with each big lungful made him forget how he'd vowed never to have Sakura heal him. With the redhead out of the house, his pickings were slim.

A hiss followed her pressing of soft palms on his chest, hands infinitely warmer than the chilly air that he closed his eyes to be fixated only on the point of contact. He needed her. There was no argument here.

"This isn't bad," her face apprehensive. "I can fix it, but I can't do anything for the pain. You'll have to tough it out."

He smirked, watching her try to avoid seeing him eye to eye. "Do whatever you need to. It's not like I have a choice, do I?"

She tittered away from him, pushing a lock of white blonde hair to tuck behind her ear as if contemplating what he was saying, not failing to note how quickly she pulled back from his chest. The medic was staring at his injury with brows knitted together.

"Maybe I could ask Kabuto for something, a salve or—"

"You're not," cutting her off caustically, irritated by the name issued from her lips. She was mildly startled, having the courage to briefly meet his eyes, however he managed to catch her gaze slide down lower to his mouth before tearing away to bore into the floorboards. It appeared any contact between them was still a great bother to her, attested to by her trying to edge away from where their knees met. "Either you do it or you don't."

When Sakura made no response except to glare stupidly at the window, he shifted in his seat, intentionally bumping his leg against hers. The reaction was like static, the flinch vividly running across her face. Shadows darkened his eyes.

"Get it done so we can rest."

She was silent, lips pursed. When finally she reached out with hands aglow and hovering before his chest, he braced himself as he watched her concentration to gauge what was to happen.

It felt like someone went ahead and grabbed the part of the rib that had broken off even as she remained completely still, Sasuke snatching the arm rest and back of the couch with agony gurgling in the back of his throat. Chakra was deftly molded and synchronized with his body's reaction to the invasion, to manipulate the bone back into place by force of her concentration. "Don't breath too deeply," was her order. He could only keep watching with blazing sharingan barely open when his former teammate forcefully snapped the bone back into the broken place where it should be. The overwhelming sensation sent stars flying in his vision.

When the miasma lifted, his senses managed to return and the night sounded more quiet, felt more peaceful as the formerly pink-haired medic finished her work. The ethereal glow of the bluish light filtering from the window glittered on the beads of sweat on her smooth brow, a few strands of hair falling out from where she tucked it behind an ear. She was still bent over him, focusing on healing the ebbing ache that remained.

"Do you know why you're here?" he questioned softly, the ordeal leaving him weaker than he cared to admit. The glow from her hands suddenly disappeared as green eyes moved back up to meet his. Some tingling was leftover where his injury had been.

"You're the one who brought me here," she replied, frowning yet again. It didn't seem to fit her features, the insolence of her confusion at what he asked. "You said I'd heal Orochimaru's arms. You mentioned it plenty enough."

His hand moved of its own accord, thumb and forefinger on either side of her face, and firmly pulled her closer.

"Don't take me for a fool, Sakura," he whispered loudly, rolling the syllables of her name over this tongue. He could feel her tremble, see it in the way she shifted her focus on his eyes in their near proximity. When he let go she remained where she was, kneeling over him on the sofa, unhappily terrified of the way he wielded his influence over her flimsy strength of will. "I don't think you're stupid either, so do us a favor and stop thinking I'm an idiot like your Naruto." A wave of anger in her expression. "We both know both my teacher's arms are fit and able. What I need to know is why he fooled me into taking you to this shithole."

The silence stretched longer between them, the tips of their noses touching. When Sakura made a move to lean back away from him, he took her by the shoulder and fixed her with a glare of black ice. "My own survival is not the only thing on the line. If something happens to me, I can't guarantee you can get back to your precious village."

Tick tock. The grandfather clock up in the second landing was loud enough in the dead of the night to reach them. Wheels turned and gears groaned behind those washed out seafoam eyes, pondering the hidden threat he spoke. Finally, finally, she mentioned something of worth.

"He hasn't been telling me anything," the way she murmured the words barely enabled him to catch them. She licked dry lips, weighing a delicate balance and holding steady his hardened flint gaze. "But Kabuto has offered to teach me medical techniques yesterday. He mentioned he was freed up enough, which is sudden because he was too busy the other day."

That bastard may not be telling him anything but at least this was something to gnaw on if for a moment longer. He'd only realized a dead smile sprung to life on his mouth when Sakura was looked troubled and was once again easing away from his personal space, pulling the comforter tighter around her thin shoulders. This only meant he needed to have the long postponed talk with the bespectacled medic. His loyal little girl could be sick of being around them but he only needed to keep her here for only so much longer. She'd bought her time for a few more days. Soon enough she'd be thrown away like rest of them.

"Sasuke..." she began, lost in construction of her hopeful dreams and optimism, "what would you do after all of this?"

After what? "I'm not sure what you mean."

Warily he kept his attention on her even as he returned his eyes to the window despite it lacking the curious raven of earlier. A throb reverberated through his leg from his knee, another of multiple unhealed injuries. She was fidgeting again and he threw her a sidelong glance. By the very nature of her acting like another bumbling dimwit, she was about to broach an illicit subject she knew he would be disagreeable on.

It was tiring to keep up with things and he would have left minutes ago had she been as useless as any other time. Only she wasn't, and his mouth thinned into a grim line, surrendering to the aches of his body to lean back.

"Well, if you manage to kill... your brother,"—Careful choice of words.—"what's your plan then?"

His mind drew a blank. He'd never really thought that far. Numerous scenarios, ideas flashing through his mind's eye, not one set after Itachi's death. There loomed the grievous prospect of him dying in the process, annihilating any reason to plan for a life following his revenge. He'd never allowed himself to think too much or he'd stray from his actual purpose of tearing down everything he had done up until now.

It was uncomfortable knowing there was nothing awaiting him beyond the promise of his brother's death yet he felt strangely satisfied by it, unquestioning of the destiny he set out for himself.

"If I have to die, I'll bring him down with me," he found himself replying, painfully shifting his position sideways a little more towards her, slumping back comfortably against the thick cushion of the couch.

"You can't die," Sakura stated firmly as surely as she knew the sun rose and set in a day, fixing him with selfish disbelieving eyes, pushing boundaries in their strained conversation. "You're the last Uchiha. You can't just die."

He smirked, soaking in the heresy she believed she was hearing. All his life he had been clueless with comforting other people, much less those he didn't care about. Nor would he dare to give it a try. All the reassurance built into him was broken and he couldn't simply give a fuck even if he wanted to, as if the way he was kept to himself wasn't a clue enough. Sakura simply had the rare quality of being able to block out everything else and pretend he would listen, even though she knew he wasn't what she pretended him to be.

Anticipating her denial of his own demise was easy. She believed in a happy ever after to their story when she should have seen all their violent deaths early on. Why she kept insisting they would end up even alive in the first place was an uncommonly mesmerizing prospect. It was good to ponder on, but it was not ideal to actually believe it. A nice story. That's all it ever would be, something a greedy, insignificant person could wish for. His goals were not for this.

"Do you want me to say it's going to be all right? It's going to be over soon, or something?" he asked sarcastically, watching the color drain out of her cheeks as the realization set in.

Miss perfect future rubbed the back of her neck with a blanketed hand, coping with the new information he fed to her. It took her easier to absorb this than what he expected, as she stopped tittering like a nervous wreck and smiled sadly, he felt it was wrong. Fake and dismal, put upon.

The girl was withdrawing, all the beseeching and the warmth wafting away into a plastic mannequin who looked like Sakura but wasn't exactly her. This was how she coped now, changing herself, distancing from anything to prevent risking her piteously shatterable heart.

"If only that Pig could see us now, huh?" she tinkered, his mind wandering to the other loudmouthed blonde. Pale green eyes from the fluorescence regarded him with an unreadable vacant stare. "I think you're a hypocrite."

The flints in his eyes sparked at the friction of her statement. He should have expected she wouldn't shy away from dangerously nonsensical accusations.

"How so?" he breathed quietly, glancing her over, noting the tightness in her muscles, the way she hid behind the folds of her snow white quilt.

"Don't you remember?" she asked back, viridian irises searching him, a lapse of bitter life returning to her features. "When we first got together as Team Seven, Kakashi-sensei asked us what our goals were."

Wanting to listen to her justifications, Sasuke acquiesced, simmering his anger. Unbidden his memory shot back to that sunny day, the sky blue and the trees in full spring. It had been windy that day, all what he could remember. What had happened? He almost couldn't bring to mind what took place, only see their brand new teacher's lips moving beneath the mask, speaking promises and misleading lies. Everything was now vague and he was likely recalling it all wrong.

The blank wall in his mind must have shown because his former teammate was frustrated, shaking those silvery tendrils about her shoulders. It must be so obvious to her. She must have all the details carefully defined in her too big forehead of hers, all the tiny, frivolous minutiae such as what they wore and how they sounded, all the intonations of their voices and all the movements. Sakura was exactly like that, and he was an uncaring asshole.

Teeth grinding, he pondered where this was going.

Let's take a dive. "What did I say?" he intoned flatly, withholding all emotion.

"You wanted two things," this pathetic girl started. "You wanted to revive your clan... and to kill a certain someone."

A frown deepened at the edges of his lips, her turn to watch how he received the statement of his idealistic younger self. That day was coming back to him in splotchy minutes as he focused back on the falling snow. Maybe. He could have said something like that.

For a few more minutes a silence reigned which he dared not break, coloring his memories with black and white.

Whatever he might have said or done all those years ago was long gone. It remained he never had been given reason to doubt the village he grew up in at such an age. If he wasn't as complete and unbroken as the rest were, bar Naruto, he had been as bright-eyed and hopeful as any other newly graduated shinobi from their mass producing, killing machine factory they called the Academy.

For the crucial months between their team being formed and where Orochimaru appeared on the horizon, the team which a faultless Sakura had been unfortunately thrust into, the last Uchiha threaded a fine line of believing he was as sane as any other child beside him. He would never forgive his younger self for whiling away precious time he could have used to gather strength into his puny body. And so when he had uttered those words as an answer to Kakashi's question, he mistakenly believed there was salvation after the death of Itachi.

I want to revive my clan...

So painfully similar to the ideal of this sub par kunoichi it made bile rise to his throat. Once he'd crossed over to where he stood now, past Konoha's village gates and into the oblivion of insurmountable strength, he could not go back. His eyes had been forced open and no way could he close them once more to pretend there wasn't anything wrong in the world. Sasuke needed to see this through.

"I was twelve. You couldn't hold something against me when I'd been as ignorant as all of you are." The explanation hung in the deathly still air, nipping opened wounds.

Clarity magnified the situation to him, creating her to be the symbol of his past as he lapsed into a contemplative and condescending wordlessness. Those green eyes rekindled their color when she turned away from the harsh light of the streetlamps, the tint shining brighter in the shadows with a sheen of something he guessed would be tears. Everything clicked into place.

His hands were grimy, stained with frozen mud where it wouldn't rub off and bruised to the bone. With tainted purpose he touched the tips of Sakura's short hair, tangling his fingers into where she kept it the same after the Forest of Death. She couldn't meet his gaze but recoiled at the gesture, sullen and disappointed. Hurt, melding into the contact, holding onto hand and pressing it against her cheek like a lifeline.

"You thought I'd come back," he susurrated softly, running fingertips down to the roots, to her scalp, following the curve of her skull. The obvious needed to be spoken, the shame now dripping down her cheeks at the dream she'd been holding onto and what he'd forgotten he'd led her on. "You wanted to be mine."

She always had to be there for him, didn't she? His heart hardened, she succumbed.

He remembered what pushed him off the edge into the chase for retribution, to make him realize he was capable of so much more. Everything had hurt like hell, beaten down and trampled in the foliage by Sound brat shinobi. There had been a dazed stupor where he had opened his eyes to swirling chakra pouring off his body, barely focusing on the unconscious Naruto to realize a pink strand of hair had blown by past them on the ground. Surging adrenaline made his body thrum with supernatural strength, shivering him for a release. He'd turned his head to grasp what had been happening and was met with the shorn head of their teammate.

Sasuke's found purchase in the warmth of blonde tangles and held fast, her tears flowing freely to soak into the blanket. She did not sob, wiping off her weakness with the back of a hand. It reminded him of Mikoto, after one of his parents' fights. She could care all she want but she didn't have to be so transparent. This was her downfall.

"Naruto won't allow that," she whispered against the blanket muffling her lips, eyes looking at him beneath dark pink lashes. "He'd save—"

"Sakura." Her name on his lips felt strange and in the empty house every resonance mocked him back. "Understand how I don't care what anyone else wants. I only care about my brother's death."

"But he's your best friend," she argued, desperate. "He would—"

"Was he? Who decided that, him? You?" he responded flatly, not amused by how he had been branded by his former teammates. "Saying we're best friends is so one sided, don't you think?"

The shock she received was palpable with parted lips and stiffened posture. For a few moments he relished that blow, steeping in her blighted hope of denying the one thing they all believed him to be. Let me die. She needed to let go of him. He needed to be freed from her. His message took long enough to sink in and eventually her upset at his logic was replaced by a false smile, quickly rubbing her eyes dry with white hands (strangely familiar with the way she's grown out of baby fat and the graceful lines of the bones and the way she moves them...).

"I'm sorry," she finally said, pulling away from his hand and tugging the comforter tighter around her shoulders. Sakura began to shake, still wearing her facade of being all right. "We've always tried so hard to shove ourselves down your throat. We... I'm really sorry. I was just so stupid to not want to see you throwing us back up again and again."

She stood up abruptly, the warm blanket dragging over him as she filtered light from the window behind her to be a haloed dark shadow. Sad green eyes regarded him. "I'm tired, Sasuke-kun. I'll go on ahead."

There was no time left for him to respond when she deftly stepped away and hurried toward the staircase, the thick blanket splayed out behind her and guided to sweep the polished floor by her movements. Small feet rapidly ascended the first few steps without a sound until a loud screech from the wood beneath her weight brought her to a halt in mid-step, a slender hand tightly gripping the railing with her back turned against him.

Carefully she cast an unsure glance at him over her shoulder and he found himself holding his breath.

"Sasuke-kun, we've met your brother already and he's very good at genjutsu. Before I forget, I wanted to just let you know that the technique he used on Naruto... it involved ravens." And she smiled that fake smile she learned from that artist who looked too much like him.

His blood ran cold and alarms in his head drowned out any coherent thought. His blonde former teammate began climbing up the stairs again in swift flits after a swish of the heavy blanket to disappear into the second landing's gloom.

"Sakura!"

Heart racing in his chest he got up to chase her down but upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, a slamming of a door stopped him in his tracks. It had to be a coincidence. There was no margin for it not be.

Suddenly a hollow tapping sound induced the hairs on his arms to rise, a foreboding unrest settling over the last Uchiha. Slowly he look around to where the noise came from.

The view outside was almost stunning. Lampposts casting their white luminescence on everything in an ethereal glow, firs heavy with dark green leaves and ice white coats where other trees were naked and black. Their neighbor across the wide road had their lights turned down low and their windows a muted orange. Snow fell gently, completing a picturesque image he never would appreciate. He could see one thing and one thing only.

Against the pane of the window he'd been staring through before Sakura appeared, a bird sat innocently on the window sill. It met his gaze, the amber-eyed raven who had disappeared earlier now back where it was before, cocking its head to the side. It disturbed the collected snow piles when it shifted to preen its feathers, scaly feet black dusted with ice crystals and large talons. Flapping black wings reflecting the light, it blinked, then opened its large beak and screamed.

AN: This was hell to write because it was sliced halfway through with some problems I encountered sometime December 2012 and January 2013. Basically where Sasuke and Sakura have their conversation, that's where I stopped writing and only managed to pick up things now. But hey, it's uploaded now. :D