Chapter 3: With Brushes of Memory
Warning: (M) Graphic depictions of Violence, Mental Disorders, etc.
Rating: (T-M) Not for Kids.
Pairings: Sakura/Sasuke, etc.
A/N: Lol guys take a shot every time i write adult and teenager
[. . .]
"I hate a lot of things, and I don't particularly like anything."
[. . .]
Chapter 3
With Brushes of Memory
[. . .]
Consoling as it may be, Kakashi doesn't look as distraught as he first pictured him. Then again, 12-year-old Uchiha Sasuke hadn't been paying attention after the fun walk in the woods he just had with his two older selves.
It starts off like this:
The moment all three of them entered through the chilling portal that sizzled lightning across his skin, Kakashi sprung into the room, unlike his usual opaque self, staring directly at him—him being 12-year-old Uchiha Sasuke—with a look of panic.
Sasuke had clenched at nothing but the wooden floors after falling on his knees from the perilous action, unable to see his sensei's expression until he felt a strong arm effortlessly lift him into his standing poise. His body had wobbled from abrupt weakness, and he had unintentionally sought the hand of aid for balance until he realized who it was and snatched it away. Embarrassed, he had shot a glare at the grown-up Uchiha who wasn't even looking at him anymore, but at his sensei. Sasuke hadn't even troubled himself by looking at the teenage Uchiha who he was sure was glaring at him right now.
(The teenager couldn't care less.)
Just looking at him made him wanna gouge his own eyes out.
(Ironic, isn't it?)
It was at that devastating moment that while taking a step forward so as to not fall behind the walking copies of himself, he felt his vision sway, and then he landed (with utmost elegance) on his bottom.
The 17-year-old had looked vexed and Sasuke shrunk in on himself but had done his best to match the glower shining behind his sunken eyes.
(He hadn't noticed how exhausted his older mirror looked.)
The adult, on the other hand, gave nothing away except for the barest inches of what seemed to be a concern, for he had reached for him. Sasuke, to save himself the humiliation, forced himself up and sat on the couch. He would've preferred standing, but he couldn't and he wasn't going to risk falling and hurting himself more.
(He was getting weaker and weaker.)
"What..." Came the weak murmur from his sensei, and Sasuke looked at him then, unable to adequately hide his distress and fatigue. It didn't mean he hadn't tried to. It was one thing to come in here weak as hell, and it was another to continue looking like a dying pig while resting. He needed to keep some of his pride.
"Kakashi," The Adult Uchiha greeted, though it sounded bland. "I assume you have questions."
The panic displayed on his sensei's face fell away to something resembling a deadpan.
"...What."
What a fucking way to start.
Sasuke looked away.
And he continued to do so, even now.
He sits, but the words tune themselves out.
There is ease, there is exhaustion, there is shock, and most importantly, there is—
Sasuke. Just Sasuke.
Because he pretends like he doesn't care for what's going on right now—not with what just happened, and not with how tired he is because surely the child is too tired to care.
12-year-old Sasuke sits on the opposite end of his teacher's couch, ears attentively (attempting, desperately) taking in every word that comes out of the three individuals in the taut room with him despite the lethargic rustiness crunching his bones and muscles. Palliative, deceiving exhaustion coaxes his body to lie and shut down but he refuses. Instead, he brutally centers the last of his energy into remaining awake, saying not a word, as his eyes dutifully guard the pristine floors that harbor the anklet of the adult version of him that ignores him.
The adult talks with his sensei that keeps glancing at him like he's on the verge of death or something and Sasuke would have found it aggravating if it weren't for the fact that he's just too tired to care. Care in the sense that mingles his sensei's pesky, eyeful habits with every trouble he's (admittedly) put himself into in the span of two or so hours.
This situates him into a contradicting loop: he, Uchiha Sasuke, 12-year-old Genin of Konohagakure, wants to be tired enough to not care, but mentally cannot be because he needs to hear this.
(He does not care for Kakashi's constant attention. Let him be ignored. He just needs himself.)
((Ironic, isn't it?))
Sasuke can feel his eye occasionally and he hates it.
He can't keep his hands from shaking, and can't keep his eyes from burning either; he's so tired, disconnected, and furious. He wants to sit still. He needs to.
(They'll see his weakness.
He is not weak.
He... he isn't.
Is he?)
This is nothing, and it is, and he knows it, and he doesn't care but he does but he doesn't.
He's so, so angry.
(He's so, so sad.)
"If not, I'll call for Jiraiya," The eldest Uchiha in the room voices, and Sasuke doesn't turn to look even though he's madly curious. He doesn't know who that is.
Nobody is telling him anything.
(He listens. He wants to say something, but no one has tried to hear him out this entire life. Evening. He meant evening.
He just wants to know.
He needs to know.
He is not a liability.)
"Jiraiya?" He hears the Teenage version of him mumble in controlled perplexity. He always sounds mocking. Why? "Why?"
"He's a seal master," Kakashi quips, and though Sasuke can't see, he can feel the eye of his sensei on him again. "Besides Tsunade."
He drowns out the rest of the conversation, slightly drowsy. But he can't sleep. He doesn't sleep, even. He won't.
He needs to listen to this.
(He repeats this to himself until it mingles with the background noise of chattering older males. He swears he hears Kakashi choke, his adult self sigh, and his teenage self scoff. To what, he's trying to figure out.)
"I've already contacted someone. There isn't a need to bring him into it," The juvenile grits, and Sasuke tries not to let himself bristle.
He dislikes him.
(Why does his own soul reject him?)
He feels so many things at once. He wants to cry, he wants to beat someone up, he wants to scream until his vocal cords rupture.
"Even I don't comprehend the full intricacies of this seal. It's best we take measured precautions and use what's available in this timeline." The most senior Uchiha expresses impassively.
He's just so angry.
Why? Why didn't either of his future selves want to help him? They know just what he's going through and they deny him?
(What has he done? He can't even listen to himself.)
He took a risk bringing them here and then they... they just don't... they don't even care.
They haven't even mentioned that... that man. They don't care.
And Sasuke doesn't understand.
He doesn't.
He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't, and he fucking doesn't.
He doesn't understand why both of them look and act so much like Itachi does. Did.
Sick.
Sickening.
His breath catches, but nobody notices it when he needs it. His heart accelerates and his vision swims but he forces himself to sit fucking still.
The teenage version of him—cruel and dismissive—looks at him coldly, like Itachi had after killing everyone he loved.
But...
(It makes him nauseated just thinking about it.)
The grown-up that he will become looks at him like he's seeing something sad. There is something in his eyes; life, melancholy? There's something. And he looks—he looks like—like how Itachi did before—
His stomach rolls and he swallows down the bile. Acid burns his throat and he almost throws up entirely at the taste of a rotting corpse, but he doesn't and sits still. He shouldn't feel like this. But he does, and he hates it, and he wants it all to stop.
(All the riveting emotions he's been attempting to pastedown overflow, moving the waves of sentiments over the edge of the already cracking dam. His shock, his fear, his exhaustion for it all—)
His eyes...
Sasuke recognizes his own eyes. He sees them almost every day, and though he is Itachi's brother, they do not look like his.
They don't. There is a resemblance that he's forever going to deny even though he knows it's there, but that's it.
But them...
His older selves don't have his eyes.
They have Itachi's.
(Hateful. Merciless.
Soft.
Kind.
Kind, kind, kind.)
Well—it looks like his. The same, dull grey shade enraptured by outer ebony encapsulates perfectly on their faces, and while the oldest Uchiha has only one—the teenager has them.
But the warmth is not there.
And he—
His stomach feels like it's rupturing when his abdomen flexes and his throat constricts with a burning, fetid, gurgle.
Despite himself, he pukes. Rancid, fast, and without warning, he heaves and splatters his earlier meal onto Kakashi's clean floors.
The chatter comes to a stop and Sasuke can suddenly feel everyone looking at him.
But at that point, he's shivering, doubling over, and promptly passing out from chakra exhaustion.
The last thing he sees is Itachi's eyes.
[. . .]
When Sasuke wakes up, he's sore but marginally better. There's that headache he gets after overworking his chakra system, but it's a pleasant welcome that buzzes with his chakra—but it's foreign too. It's lighter. Something is slowly feeding into his body, bordering and balancing the pain with a heavy freshness.
It circulates through his bloodstream in a pleasant hum, and the comfort is so great that it takes him a minute or so to realize that his body is moving and cold. He doesn't smell anything but the dirt of Konoha and... vomit, but he hears cradling breaths near his hair.
It's then that he jumps away from the dark shoulder thinking he's being kidnapped and falls onto the ground.
"You're awake," A deep voice states.
Sasuke looks up with squinting eyes, sore and alarmed, finding two shadows standing in front of him, watching.
The adult Uchiha gazes down at him with a disappearing purple hue that he can't help but transfix on, confused. To his right is the asshole adolescent.
"You're still disoriented," The man says, flickering his eyes about his sprawled form.
Sasuke, perplexed, turns his head onto his Teenage self who stares blankly. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks away, uncaring that Sasuke is on the damn floor.
At that, Sasuke can't help but scowl lightly. "Where am I?" He demands, looking around. He holds his head for a second, getting whiplash. He tries his best not to grimace.
The other two don't care to mention it.
"Your apartment," The man answers.
Sasuke blinks and slowly stands on thankfully steady limbs. Rubbing his head, he scrutinizes the entranceway of the apartment, noticing that his door is on the floor, broken off its hinges. He looks at the adult, expectant.
"Couldn't find the key," The oldest Uchiha informs.
(The two of them don't say that they could've crawled through the broken glass of his balcony door. Or that they could have opened the door from the inside out.)
Sasuke frowns. "Where's Kakashi?"
"Home," The teenager says before turning a corner and leaving the oldest and youngest alone.
Sasuke watches him leave, disgruntled, until his attention is caught by his adult version speaking again.
"Kakashi went to go inform the Third Hokage of our situation," He says, walking past him airily.
"Why?" Sasuke blurts.
How long was he out?
What time is it?
What did he miss?
"To avoid problems similar to the one we had in the forest."
He disappears behind the same wall the teenager went past.
Ignoring the pulsing ache in his head, Sasuke hurries after him.
"So?" He demands, glowering at him. "What else? What happened?"
There's a moment of silence before the man speaks again. "After you passed out we discussed what the scroll signifies and means. We came to the conclusion that it was another archaic Uchiha secret that had been found under intentional circumstances, seeing that Kakashi had questioned the woman at the shop where she got her wares with subtle hinting at time travel. Apparently, she calls herself The Last Uchiha Antiquarian," He angles his head at him, and Sasuke rubs his head, trying to remember. "She has no name and I have no memory of ever meeting a black-haired woman with red glasses."
Sasuke opens his mouth to speak, but the Uchiha isn't done.
"We also conversed about the matters of the scroll. There are several methods by which we could return to our time, allegedly. Kakashi recommended Tokubetsu Jounin Shiranui Genma, as he was part of the squad that learned how to use the Fourth Hokage's teleportation technique. He believed using it, combined with my portal jumping, would likely have the desired effect if done right."
Sasuke blinks. He hadn't expected him to answer nor of a potential power he may inherit. "Oh," He says lamely. "...How long until... until you go back?" He asks. The rage from earlier simmers down to contemplation, despite spiking for a second in bitterness when he remembers that they said no to him.
(Why is he being nice to him now?)
But the most aged Uchiha is being... cooperative with him. Conflict decides to flirt with his betrayal and confusion, and he has no idea how exactly to feel. Exhaustion is also pushing and pulling at him relentlessly, and so, momentarily, he has to concentrate on not falling into his embarrassment again. There's a lot he's thinking about, leading his thoughts into overdrive that is feasibly causing his disorientation. For example, why every time he chances a glance at the older male's inexpressive features, he sees the subtle aging lines beneath his eyes that are all too hauntingly familiar.
This sucks.
The two of them stop in front of the ridiculously dressed teenager gathering a hammer and nails. Sasuke stares, bewildered as the boy five or so years his senior straightens with attention. Why is he...?
The door.
Oh.
"It depends," The adult answers vaguely. "It'll take Jiraiya two weeks at most to get back to Konoha. If he's back before the designated time, we can begin working on a conceivable seal that will take about a week to perfect, including planning."
"A month," The awful adolescent surmises, clenching his jaw.
Sasuke frowns. "But why can't you do it?" He tells the grown-up, calculative and accusing. "You... You're strong, right? Don't you know...?" He trails off, grimacing when the man shakes his head. Why did he say that?
"It's dangerous. Severing the Chakra string that binds us together can be fatal. He attempted to cut it using his chakra because only ours can touch it," The man shifts his eyes to the gritty teenager, "And you passed out."
What.
Sasuke looks disbelieving at the teen who appears like he doesn't care. "What?"
"He thought breaking it apart could work," The adult looks at the oddly dressed youngster rather coldly, and the traumatized 17-year-old has the gall to scoff. "I had to feed you my chakra."
Sasuke scowls. "You tried to kill me to leave?" He demands from the juvenile, and he doesn't even bother looking at him.
(All he can remember is the mocking laughter echoing like a chanting misfit of sinister cruelty inside his ears. He had asked, had been denied, and had realized that if the barrier had not been there, he'd be dead.
He'd be dead.)
Angry, he opens his mouth to childishly remind his potential murderer (himself, of all people) that the chakra string is not something to be messed with, but he stops himself because the cloaked man holds a hand up to silence the room.
"He won't do it again," He says to him, and Sasuke thinks it's slightly threatening if not protective. "It was dangerous. What it did achieve, however, was to extend the capacity the string has. By giving my chakra to you, you fed into it. You're the source. This extension is likely another reason why you fainted. You're going to be experiencing a lot of chakra exhaustion throughout the weeks we'll remain unless I give you my chakra on a daily basis."
Sasuke eyes the shuffling teenager with disdain. "So we learned something?" He mumbles, rubbing his temple. "Is there anything else that might prevent me from... fainting?" He grinds his teeth at the word.
"There is one alternative. I'll see if I can transport the source to me. Otherwise, suspend from using your chakra too much," He tells him. It's said somewhat softly with a stern tone, and Sasuke freezes, being reminded of his father.
He's not my father, he spits vehemently inside his aching head as soon as the disgusting thought comes to the forefront.
Sasuke crosses his arms. What is wrong with him?
(Has being alone made him this pathetic?)
The 32-year-old inclines his head, likely thinking he's upset by what he's just been told. "That, or we could go at it the way the scroll wants us to get back to our time earlier and thus prevent this unnecessary hassle."
Both heads turn toward him.
Sasuke feels a wrong sense of dread. "What?" He asks, glaring at them. He clenches his hands onto the fabric of his shirt.
The cloaked man continues to stare. "I have one theory. The truth."
"The truth...?" Mumbles the confused child.
"Yes," Said man states. "About Itachi."
Sasuke's blood goes cold and he almost throws up again. His fists clench. "What... What about him?" He snaps.
Are they finally agreeing to train him? Are they finally getting it through their senses that Itachi needs to die? But the phrasing doesn't make sense if that's the case.
The truth?
What truth?
He knows it all. He's seen it firsthand. They probably haven't—
"But we will discuss this when you're less unstable."
Anger flares inside him like a volcanic tantrum. "Then let's do it now," Sasuke hisses. He's sick. He's so sick and tired of people pressing him down, stomping on what he needs to do. He's not... he's not a stupid kid! He's doing the world a favor by getting rid of Itachi! What if his brother tries to come back and kill his frie—his teammates? What if he tries to go back and finish him?
The entirety of Konoha isn't safe if he's still around! Why doesn't anyone understand?
Why don't they understand that he needs to avenge his clan?
Why don't they get it through their thick fucking skulls that this is something he needs—something he promised to do!?
The death of his clan and the empty walls full of blood-ridden memories are all the cause of the man who betrayed it all!
Sasuke won't give up. It may kill him, but he's going to do what he's meant to do.
The adult eyes him gloomily. "You're still recovering. You're in no condition to talk."
Bullshit. He's fine—
Just then, a dizzy spell provokes his body and he sways slightly. He catches himself on the wall, holding his head.
"Just tell him," The Teenager says, bored. He's gathering screws.
"You and I both know how erratic our minds were at that age," The adult says, giving the 17-year-old a berating look that he doesn't like.
Yet, as Sasuke reorients himself, he finds that the bitchy juvenile doesn't reply. Instead, the teen walks away, "Whatever."
It's too bad Sasuke can't gloat because he's already sliding down the wall, losing consciousness.
"Sleep," He hears the man say.
And he does because he can't fight the exhaustion off.
[. . .]
As nightfall becomes morning, he hears voices whisper and rouse him at random intervals as he slumbers his exhaustion away.
"Why tell him anything?"
"We both would have appreciated not being left in the dark."
Sasuke furrows his brows slightly. Who...?
"He's learning nothing."
"What he's learning is not to trust himself."
Sasuke breathes out, cracking his gooey eyes open.
"You know what I mean."
"I do know. You're being childish."
"Tch..."
Sasuke shuffles and the room becomes dead silent.
The 12-year-old squints past the illuminating pools of sun entering through the covered balcony window of his apartment, focusing on the two conversing Uchihas who pause when they notice his body angled to the side.
"You're late," The man stares blankly at him. "It's half past ten."
At that, Sasuke springs awake. "Wh-What!?" He says, hurriedly getting off his bed while rubbing his eyes. "Why didn't—"
"You were tired," The adult speaks. The teenager stays helpfully silent.
Sasuke has no time to actively figure out why the sight of the two of them together brings an immense, conflicting sadness. He gathers his wits and glares at them instead, quickly going for his closet to change and start for the day.
The two of them wait for him after he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and ready to leave.
"Let's go," He spits.
He opens the fixed door, stares at the decent handiwork, and then steps outside.
He's not warned when a purple haze emerges in front of him, and he withholds a yelp as he falls through, landing with surprisingly steady legs on the other side of a forest as he blinks past the dizzy wave that is brought upon the random portal. He whirls around with (suppressed) awe and anger, staring scorchingly at the two who step in line behind him. "You couldn't have warned me?" He demands, sulking, and the adult says nothing. Sasuke swears he sees something sparkle in his visible eye.
An eye, he notices again, that looks so much like Itachi.
He turns away, repulsed.
When he does, his eyes land on his team. Naruto, who sits with crossed arms and a furiously pouty expression, and Sakura, who lies by a wooden post with her knees pressed to her chest, reading a medical book. He hears his blonde-haired teammate grumble inconsistencies on Kakashi's lack of presence while the smart rosette shushes him from time to time. She even waves a threatening fist in his direction to make her silencing more effective, which renders Naruto quiet the next second.
They sit, calm and with nothing to worry about except the blazing heat.
Meanwhile, Sasuke has other particular shit to deal with. (Things that he put himself into.)
The three of them hide behind the rouse of several trees, a ways from them.
Kakashi, as usual, isn't around.
"Here," One of his other selves speaks before Sasuke can wonder what exactly went down the previous night in his sensei's presence.
Sasuke's scowl returns and he looks, only to be met with a brown paper bag that smells suspiciously like onigiri right in front of him.
He doesn't take it. "What's this?" He questions, bewildered, looking up at the stone-faced adult. (He doesn't see the juvenile version of him hanging back, watching his teammates with what seems like nostalgia.)
"Food," The man replies blandly. "You didn't eat. You'll pass out if you don't."
The gesture is... surprisingly kind.
But also extremely weird.
Taking the bag, he furrows his brows and opens it, looking inside. Just as he suspected, two triangular rice compacted with dry seaweed reveals themselves. Perfectly bound.
Why? This is the first coherent question that takes priority. Why is he giving me this?
Logic reinstates second. I didn't eat, he tells himself, grabbing for the item. It feels just right in his hands.
He doesn't want me fainting again, he advances with his rationale suit, eyeing the carefully prepared food. He feels a slight, ridiculously unreasonable sting inside his chest when he bites onto it, chewing heartily.
It tastes like mom's.
I'm a liability right now.
His two conflicting thoughts clash and he has an unexplainable urge to cry and hide at the same time.
His abrupt, vulnerable emotions make him angry the next moment.
Why am I sad? This is stupid.
He swallows. He bites again. He chews.
Furious at his unwarranted melancholy, he consumes the bite he took harshly enough to hurt on the way down. He hopes it's enough to repress the rawness beginning to form. He forcefully finishes the first one and then the second, quickly so that he doesn't have to deal with the absurd sentiments brought upon by a damn onigiri dish made by someone who makes it obvious they want nothing to do with him.
Then why make this?
Sasuke bunches the bag in further anger.
They don't need me being stupid and skipping meals. If I pass out again, I'll be carried like an idiot.
"I see you three made it."
The Three Sasuke Uchihas dart to their (former?) sensei perched mundanely on a tree above them. "Yo!" He throws up a two-finger salute when they notice him.
"Hn," The adult makes a reminiscing noise, and the younger Uchihas glance at him expectantly. "Anything to report?" His voice of authority merely causes Kakashi to crinkle his eye in joviality.
"No. Besides that our Lord Hokage wants to see you three, there's nothing else to say."
The air somehow becomes suffocating. The adults notice, and Sasuke certainly does too, but none of them say anything when it leaves just as suddenly as it came. The killing intent felt... felt like... Sasuke subtly looks at the teenager who gives nothing but utmost tranquility away.
Sasuke should've expected the Hokage to call them in at some point. Summoning his future selves is a warranted buzz to his office, after all. These things don't usually happen, especially not out of the blue. Or at all. What he hadn't expected is for the malignant energy to pierce the air.
It leaves him feeling sick.
"But!" Kakashi breaks the tension with pressure of his own, "We can get to that after training today."
And just like that, the focus is brought back to the original intention for waking up today.
Sasuke, confused, looks at the old Uchiha with narrowed slits. Questions bounce and he opens his mouth to ask why exactly his other self is so on edge because he knows that if he asks the teen he'll just refuse to answer, but that refuge in seeking knowledge is dropped by a noise of indignation rising to the left of him.
Naruto's accusing exclamation of "Kakashi-sensei! You're late!" is vertebrated across the entire training ground, and the four occupants not-so-hidden in the shade of various tall trees bring their regard toward the running Naruto heading their way. Sakura follows closely behind, and then—
Sasuke watches both his teammates freeze just a few feet from them.
Naruto's pointing finger falters, bewildered. "Wha..."
Sakura stares just as shocked that borders on confused, turning her head from him to the others.
Sasuke almost grimaces. Today will be annoying...
"You didn't tell them," The adult Uchiha voices aloud.
"I forgot," Kakashi chirps.
The resulting eye-twitch he receives is the first Sasuke sees of his adult self being annoyed.
[. . .]
A/N: This story is going to sound so repetitive... I am so sorry y'all...
Toodles~
Ana.