The room was spinning, even while I kept my eyes shut tightly. The blood of the man that lay a foot away from me was slowly spreading and soaking through the beige carpet. Unlucky for me, our house stood on a slope, meaning that the dark patch was following gravity and spreading out vines of red closer to where I sat as each second past, reaching for vengeance on behalf of its former host.
The sounds of spraying bullets, tumbling bodies and battle cries had died down, and I feared for my brother's safety. He had yet to collect me and I was in no shape to face the rest of those men alone. I didn't have a spare set of bullets with me, and I only had six left in the barrel. If the mission came down to depend on me, my failure was a certainty.
Feeling a bit too overwhelmed, being in my father's old room, I'd forgotten to listen for any approaching footsteps. But when I suddenly took notice of the thudding feet getting louder as they got closer to the door I quickly rolled away, ignoring the protest of my ruined shoulder. I readied my gun to knock back the person who would open it, still staying as clear as possible from the running blood that travelled across the carpet. I couldn't guarantee that my aim would be too accurate with my violently shaking hands. I could practically hear the bullets rattling in their chambers.
The increasing sound of boots on wood became louder still and I tightened the grip on my gun, recognising that the person approaching trod clumsily and harsh, whereas my brother had always been swift and light on his feet. I'd never been a man of cowardice or concern, but at that point in time I was definitely debating what should be written on my tombstone. Stroking the charm around my neck I felt sanctity in knowing that while I was alive I could still fight.
I hadn't worried about locking the door. If I did then they would know that I was inside and would break the door down, ruining what upper hand that I had with the element of surprise.
When the engraved, brass knob turned clumsily I readied my finger on the trigger. The door swung on its hinges with a brutal force powerful enough to embed the handle of the door into the wall. From the haze of my tired vision all I could see in the doorway was the form of a large dark bulk. The shape was so indiscernible that I opted to not shoot until I was sure that it was an enemy. This found to be definitely a judicious decision when I discovered who it was.
"Sasuke-sama! You're brother has proceeded to the upper floor. We must hurry!"
In my tremendous relief to see that it was only Kisame I experienced all of my muscles relaxing. I felt the gun fall from my grip and allowed myself to wilt forward to rest on my hands. A shudder rattled my bones in their sockets, and once more I sensed an ill sleep begin to claim me. But there was no time to close my eyes. Kisame pulled me up by my wrist in a gentle but strong manner.
"Sasuke-sama, we must leave this instant. Time is of the greatest importance if we want to get you both out of here safely."
Thinking of the safety of my brother as well as my own I was spurred on to reactivate the muscles in my legs and stand up. Of course I had to lean a significant portion of my weight against Kisame, but at least I was upright. Kisame picked up my gun and placed it into my hand, making sure that my hold on it was firm and ready. He cocked his gun and inspected the hallway before escorting me out once he was sure it was safe. Following my brother's orders he kept an arm around my shoulder to make sure that I was well guarded from every angle.
I could clearly hear the clatter and crash of Orochimaru's henchmen tearing our treasured home to pieces in search for valuables and their intended valuable- the Sharingan. Possessions have always been considered as trivial things in my eyes, but at that moment, the thought of family heirlooms and childhood memories being smashed and broken made my heart ache sorely. I tried to block out the noises of their laughter and shattering china and just moved with Kisame's strong limb pushing me forward at a steady pace.
When we came to the stairs leading to the top floor signs of a fight became more evident. Several of Orochimaru's men lay strewn across the steps with bullet wounds stamped into their flesh and blood ran down towards us like a trickling waterfall of crimson. It was a familiar sight to me and I didn't flinch. Instead I stepped on the back of one of the men in order to proceed up the stairs without getting blood on my shoes. I didn't want to leave any footprints that would give away my position if I needed to hide. I clearly understand that this is a cruel way of thinking, not taking pity or respecting the dead men beneath my shoe, but I needed to survive. They had already failed at that, so there was no need to dwell on it.
There wasn't any sound of gunshots from the Uchiha vault room, so I assumed that Itachi had successfully terminated any men that had been guarding the top floor. There was blood staining the beautiful vintage wallpaper and seeping through the varnished wooden floor that mother had complained about for being so expensive. If we ever were to return to this house then we would surely have to refurbish every inch. How tedious.
The vault room was basically my father's old study. A dusty desk covered in papers occupied the centre of the room with millions of books shelved along two of the four walls. Itachi sat in the office chair vacantly as though he hadn't noticed my arrival. It wasn't until Kisame shut the door behind us that he seemed to spring into action.
"Finally. Kisame barricade the door."
"What? Barricade it? Brother, what are you thinking? Can't we just grab it and run?"
The sound of moving furniture would alert the men in the room beneath as well as leave the window as our only exit and open to attack.
Itachi allowed me to take his place in father's chair and walked over to Deidara who was inspecting the wall in the corner of the room where the bookcase ended.
"Sir, I've found it."
The blonde spoke and kept his hand on the patch of wall that he had been examining. Itachi turned to me in order to explain.
"The vault is behind this wall, but it's too deep to get through to without tools. Kisame will have to break through it for us and the noise will probably alert most of Orochimaru's men. The barricade will hopefully hold them off long enough for us to get it and perhaps escape through the window."
His plan was flawed in many places, and not one of his best concoctions, but I trusted him nonetheless. He had yet to fail in getting us out alive. So I watched silently as Deidara marked the wall with his penknife to show where the vault was and Kisame tried to pile the desk and chairs in front of the door as silently as possible, making sure that the furniture didn't scrape across the floor as he moved it. Without Itachi having to even tell me I tried my best to stay awake enough to make a quick exit.
"Please, stand back Itachi-sama."
Kisame spoke and my brother moved over to me to pull my chair further away and out of the reach of any flying debris. Deidara also stood in front of us both as a sort of shield. Kisame's colossal weapon was pulled out of its holster and aimed at the markings on the wall. He took aim for a moment, allowing us to prepare ourselves. I shakily placed my hands over my ears and tucked my head between my knees. I could feel my brothers smooth hands rubbing circles over my back, but I was too numb to feel his warmth as he held me close. Although, when his hands even lightly brushed against my bandage the intense pain in my shoulder returned and filled me with a sense of life. But the sensation seemed to dull after a while. I had already lost quite a bit of blood.
I could sense more than hear Kisame plant five thick bullets into the wall in front of him and shake the entire house. I felt the thudding feet of about thirty men ascend the stairs. When I finally had the strength to lift my head I looked to see my brother and his two men tearing at the hollow wall to reach the vault that was buried deep within the frame of brick. The door rattled on its hinges as the beasts in suits and ties behind it tried to force their way through the door and the piled up furniture in front of it. I could hear the whisper of several curses and swears fall from my brother's lips, sounding strange to me when spoken in such a noble accent as his.
I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning and from then on estimated what was going on from what little sounds I was able to pay attention to; the wisp of an accomplished sigh when they'd managed to break through to the vault; the clang of various bolts and cogs of the lock system; the creak of the iron door when it had finally been opened.
"Deidara, hand me the bag."
"Yes, sir."
I looked up slowly; my curiosity for my family's secret drastically overpowering my need for rest. Itachi was leaning deeply into the small space in the wall, far enough so that I could only see his shins and feet. Deidara stood behind him with a small toiletry bag at the ready, stolen from my father's en suite. Kisame had his foot holding the desk against the rattling door and his gun cocked and aiming at the men on the other side of it. Sooner rather than later they would break through, but the lining of metal that my father had placed on the door was definitely helping to waste time.
Itachi emerged from the crumbling hole in the wall with a small, antique box in his hands, held with such vigilance. Kisame had even turned around in interest of this sacred weapon. It was smaller than the size of Itachi's palm and I wondered for a moment how great of a weapon it could be if you could lose it down the side of the sofa. I couldn't see any intricate details by fault of my blurred vision, and it was out of my sight when placed carefully into the small bag and zipped shut. It didn't seem very special, but I knew better than to just assume that it wasn't something magnificent. All of a sudden, with our mission accomplished, we paid more attention to our surroundings and the silence.
There hadn't been silence when we'd last noticed.
Something was wrong.
Deidara and my brother got to their feet quickly, keeping an eye on the door and the lack of movement behind it.
"Let's go."
Itachi whispered and Deidara briskly went to open the window. It was as though he had opened the window to an empty void. There were no comforting sounds of wind or passing cars or movement of any kind. It was as though sound itself had suddenly ceased to exist.
We were all tense and on guard. I had even stumbled over to Itachi from my place in the office chair and pulled out my gun. He too had pulled out his gun and placed the small wash bag into the pocket of his holster. It certainly was a precarious place to store our prize, but we didn't come equipped on our mission. It would have to suffice until we found a safer and more secure means of transport for it.
Deidara surveyed the area outside while slowly pulling his gun out. We all backed away from the window in case of a sudden attack.
"Sir, there are no men in my reachable sight. The area seems clear."
He announced quietly and we all looked to my brother for orders.
"I have no doubt in my mind that this is a trap."
Itachi mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. But, instead of changing his plan like I had expected, he pocketed his gun and made his way to the open window. In sudden panic I grabbed his arm.
"Brother, what are you doing? You just said that it was a trap!"
"I know, but we have no other choice. We only have two means of exit and both of them will most probably lead us into danger. However, if we take the window we will at least be a shorter distance from the car to escape."
I was reluctant to soften the hold that I had on his arm. My dependence and tendency to cling to him was shameful. We had been taught from birth that a single doubt of our masculinity would make us lose our sight of the road to success. I found my pride to be more important to me than my life after following such teachings from my father. So, I hid my fearful face and forced myself to release my shaking hand. But before I was able to get too far from him or keel over from fatigue he placed a confident hand on my unwounded shoulder and massaged deep into my bone. I looked up with false bravery and he gave me a nod; something so simple yet it could convey so much. He understood what my reluctance to speak had meant, and he returned my brotherly concern.
"Deidara, clear a path and inspect our escape route for any surprises."
"Yes sir."
Relieved that my brother wouldn't be going first and making himself most vulnerable I watched as our trustworthy western comrade roughly scanned what he could of his surroundings, and then silently leapt from the window. Not thump nor rustle was heard as he hit the ground; an achievement from training that our men held with pride. We didn't get close to the window as he stood to inspect our path, it left us too open from a distant attack. So we waited for his signal.
In silence we could hear the opening of the car door and listened for any struggle. But there was none. Our sign to tell us that the coast was clear came in the form of a small paper bird landing on the windowsill. Bird calls and noises were far too dangerous to execute without being detected. As if any birds would still be gathered around an area where gun fire had been generously shared between parties. This paper bird was Deidara's personal signal for us. One that was small enough to float by undetected and its symbolism could only be encoded by those who knew him.
"This time, I go first."
Itachi spoke and crumpled the paper creation into his pocket.
I nodded in reply, but regretted doing so a moment later when a sharp pain settled in from the blood that sloshed around in my head. Itachi headed over to the window to quickly scope the path back to the car.
"Sasuke-sama. Would you like me to carry you?"
I waved away Kisame's suggestion politely and kept my gaze on Itachi as he leapt from the window. The breeze carried away any miniscule sound that he had made with his landing. I peered over the windowsill tentatively and saw him pressed against the wall, waiting for me to jump down. It was indeed a long drop to the grassy floor. I probably wouldn't execute my jump as professionally as usual with my many physical impediments. But that didn't stop me.
I dashed to the window with determination, but stupidly I hit my wounded shoulder against the frame of the window the second that I leapt off. The pain overpowered my sense of balance and I struggled to keep myself upright during my descent. My sight even began to fade moments before I hit the floor and the detail of the grass I was approaching blurred into a haze of green mist that looked as though I could easily faze through it. Itachi stepped in just in time. He jumped up stealthily and wrapped his figure around me so to straighten my angle and keep my feet straight for me to land on. I remembered to bend my knees and let the ground absorb the shock of my weight, just like I'd learnt in my training. With the guidance of my brother I had been able to land silently. Finally Kisame appeared beside us and kept his hand on his gun while scouting for any of Orochimaru's men.
It was then that I finally recognised why this was definitely an ambush. Not only were Orochimaru's men absent from eye and ear, but there was no sign from any of our own soldiers either. They had probably been lured off or disposed of quickly. Orochimaru used all sorts of drugs on his followers to keep himself safe. Half of the people working for him weren't even human anymore, not capable of anything except for swinging their muscled arms at strangers and screaming nonsense in unutterable rage. The men of the Uchiha would be no match for them in our small numbers. We'd lost so many men in our last confrontation that we'd even had to take those boys still in training along with us on this mission. So many phone calls and visits would have to be made to worrying mothers and wives of our brave men.
But that's a subject that would have to be thought about in more detail when this was over. For now we stood with our backs pressed against the wall behind us. We could see the black car a little while away. It was very dark, but we could all clearly see the figure of Deidara sitting behind the wheel. His rough ponytail defined his silhouette. Itachi dashed off into the dark without any notification and Kisame pushed me off after him. I crouched and kept my hand on my gun as I spread each leg in front of me, one after the other in a synchronised rhythm with Itachi.
It happened so quickly. I didn't have the chance to do anything.
As we closed in on the car without any resistance I could feel that something wasn't right. They wouldn't just let us leave so easily. When Itachi swung open the passenger side door...
...I just...
...a gun was fired. Not one of ours, that was certainly true.
A bullet scratched my ear and I halted completely mid run. The bullet that had grazed me had been the one that pierced Itachi right through the chest.
Everything slowed down for a moment and I was able to imagine that I had taken a moment to recover from shock. But in reality I hadn't rested at all. As quickly as I had stopped I was sprinting again. As Itachi stumbled a second figure inside the car was revealed to me; a tanned hulk of a man who sat smiling in the back seat. I aimed my gun as best as I could and fired four rounds. It took two bullets to break through his skull, and his open mouthed smile swallowed the other two and broke through the back of his throat. He slumped backward against the opposite window.
Itachi hadn't fully fallen. He was holding on to his balance like the proud Uchiha he was told he should be. Clutching the wound on his chest he held onto the car door and pulled out the man that I had made into a corpse. As my distance from him decreased I could see who it was.
Kidomaru. I'd partaken in small talk with him once in my life. He had been a strange man when he was alive. One of Orochimaru's henchmen.
Itachi barely managed to climb into the back seat and I made my way into the passenger's side, expecting that the man sitting beside me would take on the task of driving. But, Deidara was gone and all he had left was a useless body. Webs were wrapped around him to hold him in a sitting position; a technique that had been a trademark of Kidomaru. His eyes were open in shock and his blood flooded the dashboard from the holes through his cheek and eye.
As much as I wanted to pay respects to the body of a good man I was in far too much of a hurry. Kisame joined Itachi in the back and shut the door just in time. A row of bullets penetrated the car as soon as the door had been closed.
Cutting away the webs with my hands I pushed Deidara out of the way and over the gear stick, into the foot hole of the passenger's seat. The car had already been started and I slammed my foot on the accelerator as soon as the break was released. The lights of four other cars turned on behind me and set off just as quickly.
I had no idea where the hell I was driving to. I was just continuously changing lanes, going the wrong way down one way streets, trying to find any sort of secluded roads to keep the public out of this drama.
Orochimaru's brainless creations had no sense of discretion or regard for authority. They fired guns without aiming and hit most of the cars around us, shop windows, maybe even a pedestrian or two.
"Kisame, how's Itachi doing?"
I yelled back while practically throwing the car around a sharp corner to avoid a spray of fire from the huge gun being fired behind us. Deidara's body fluid on the dashboard swayed and rippled every time the car moved.
"He isn't doing well, Sasuke-sama. We need to find some medical help."
Once I was set onto a long, straight road I took the chance to look back at Itachi. I suddenly felt more sick than I had the entire evening. Itachi was spread across Kisame's lap while he tried to apply pressure to the wound. There was already a lot of blood soaking the back seat and only a fifth of it was mine that had been spilled beforehand.
I couldn't stop the car anywhere. Four cars were still tailing us and firing at random in our direction. Even slowing down was a serious risk.
I turned sharply onto a new road. I recognised this one. I used to walk home from school this way. It was perfect.
"Kisame, as soon as I turn at the top of this road there is an alleyway on your right. Jump out as soon as I turn and hide down there until I lure them off. They aren't far behind, but there's enough distance to block their sight on the corner."
"Sasue-sama, that plan is far too dangerous. You are in almost as bad a shape as Itachi-sama. I will not leave you alone."
"Itachi is unconscious right now, which means that he can't be in charge. This leaves the decisions up to me. Until Itachi wakes up I am your boss, so follow my orders. Is that understood?"
My voice didn't shake or waver. It felt as though Itachi's soul had entered me. I think I finally understood how my brother had always managed to keep calm in situations like this.
For the sake of my most precious person I needed Kisame to follow my orders. If I sounded hesitant then Kisame would easily pick up on it and play it against me to convince me to not go through with the plan. If I sounded confident then Kisame would feel that I knew what I was doing and he would trust me. Being the boss is about knowing what you're doing. Right now, I was the boss.
"Yes sir."
He barked, just like how he would to Itachi. I felt pride in knowing that I had become the master to Itachi's loyal dog, just for now.
"Hand me the wash bag."
Kisame rummaged through Itachi's pocket and found the small bag. I held my hand out over my shoulder and he placed it into my palm. The weight of the box inside shocked me, but more than this, the weight of the responsibility I held shocked me even more. I put the bag in my lap and held it between my knees.
With the Sharingan in my possession Itachi would be able to go to a hospital without the worry of keeping it protected or being stolen while he was being looked after.
"When I'm clear I will phone you to confirm a meeting place. Act on my signal."
The corner was coming up. Kisame scooped Itachi into his arms and held him into his chest, prepared to jump. He didn't open the door. If he did then the men behind us would see it open and suspect that we had escaped. So the window was the best option. It had already been shot through so it was wide open for his escape.
As I reached the end of the road I used all of my weight to throw the steering wheel to the right and get as close to the curb as possible.
"Go!"
I screamed and Kisame just managed to dive through the window. I saw through my rear view mirror that as soon as he had rolled into the alley Orochimaru's men turned the corner. They kept on driving after me so I deemed it safe to assume that they hadn't noticed the decrease in passengers.
Now, without having to worry about Itachi, all I had to do was find a place to hide for a little while until they lost my scent. I knew this road just as well as the last. There was a parking lot a little ways up with a maze of alleys and side roads for me to duck through. Another perfect opportunity had found me.
I took my hands off of the wheel for a moment to pick up the bag in my lap. I tucked my shirt into both my trousers and my underwear and put the bag down my shirt. That would have to be its home for the time being, until I could find a coat with pockets.
I inspected the road again. The turning was coming up soon.
I reached under the seat and grabbed the box of bullets hidden there. I tipped the whole thing into the ammunition pouch of my holster. My gun was fastened to me securely.
I put one hand back on the wheel and used the other to pat the head of Deidara whose blood was flooding the foot hole of the passenger's side.
"I'm sorry that I cannot give your body the proper burial ceremony deserved. But at the very least please accept my promise to avenge you."
I then lifted my pendant to my lips and whispered a quick prayer to my mother.
"Guide me, Okaa-san."
Just as I had done before I threw the wheel across and turned sharply to catch my chasers off guard. I opened the door and dived out a few seconds premature of hitting the brick wall along with the car. It didn't burst into flames or anything, but the impact made it rear back into the enemy car that had just turned the corner.
I hadn't landed well. My shoulder had received most of the blow and I took a moment to writhe in pain before I pulled myself up again. My vision was streaked with grey and I had to blindly scramble towards the alley in front of me.
Many crimes had been committed between these two walls and many people had gotten themselves horribly lost in the intricate workings of back alleys, side alleys and car parks. But I knew my way well enough and my trained intuition was unbeatable.
I swayed heavily as I ran. I would hit the wall every time I turned a corner. It was only until I was at my limit that I slowed down. I tripped against a wall and fell to my knees in pain.
Everything hurt.
Through my deep breaths I choked and heaved on something awful that rose in my throat. I spat out whatever disgusting substance I had gagged on. It was a mixture of blood, vomit, stomach acid and saliva. It reeked, and the scent pushed me back into the opposite wall.
I heard one set of running feet echoing through the alley I had just come down. One of the men had actually had the luck to find me.
I couldn't fire my gun. Even with the silencer on it would make enough noise to alert the others of my position. This meant that I had to shut him up the old fashion way.
The straps on my upper arms that were hidden by my sleeve carried four kunai on each. I only needed one to get rid of him. It had to be a shot to the head. If I wounded him on any other place on his body then he'd have the chance to scream and attract the attention of the others.
I shuffled on my knees to the corner that the man was approaching and I pulled myself up ungracefully. I ripped off my sleeve to reach a kunai and I clasped it tightly in my hand. My grip was clumsy and the bandaged metal of the Kunai's handle was easily slipping free from my hold. The control I had over my arm was failing. Even though it wasn't too dangerous an amount, a lot of blood had escaped from the wound in my shoulder, quickly turning my hand into a limp and useless appendage. I even had to resort to using my other hand to curl my fingers around the handle. The Kunai just felt so heavy.
I could hear the echo of cheap, plastic loafers thudding closer towards me. They were clumsy and heavy. Like a wild man; obviously one of Orochimaru's drugged up cronies. I had no doubt about it.
Even with my senses dulled I could easily tell when he was in the right position to strike; his powerful steps shook the ground, I could smell the putrid sweat on his clothes, I could hear the ragged groan of every breath, in and out, I could even feel the heat radiating off of his overworked body. He had put a lot of effort into finding me and now he had carelessly worn himself out. He didn't even have enough stamina left to defeat me while I was wounded and sick.
As soon as I saw the toe of his shoe peek out from around the corner I sprung into action. Using both of my hands on the Kunai I plunged the blade into his temple, feeling the resistance from his skull and thick flesh.
I cursed quietly and covered the man's mouth after he moaned painfully, even with the absence of consciousness. With shaking arms I tried my best to slowly lower him to the floor, but he was just too thick for me to support. His fake, drug induced muscles weighed more than two of me could handle. His body lifelessly thumped onto the ground. The noise wasn't too loud. But just as I had feared, the alleyways were all so vacant and enclosed that what was at first a little sound reverberated off of thirty sets of brick walls and ended up being quite a loud sound. A sound that was loud enough for all of Orochimaru's men to hear.
And suddenly I could hear the echo of twenty pairs of cheap, plastic loafers all winding through the alleyways towards me, from all different directions.
This time I was in too much of a panic to get to my feet as quickly as before. I practically swam across the cement canal, away from the body, and to the next corner. The scent of car fumes was strong. I was close to the main road. As much as I hated to involve the public, I could easily hide myself within a crowd of pedestrians.
But that would be difficult as I was. My designer trousers were ripped and scuffed in several places, half of the buttons on my dress shirt had popped off and exposed my chest, my bandage had been soaked through with crimson and my shirt had started to absorb the liquid. Even my face was too banged up to look normal. No one would believe that I had fallen down the stairs or something, not to mention the ghastly white hue to my skin that looked far from a natural pale.
Then I had a disgusting idea.
Orochimaru's goon.
He had a suit.
I looked back at the body.
The Kunai I had left there was stopping most of the blood from pooling, and the jacket was clean other than having a bit of dirt on it.
Just as I had done before, I refused to show respect for the dead.
He had failed to survive and now his body was useful for me to succeed.
The collar of the jacket was soaked with sweat and the shoulder pads drooped over my shoulders to halfway down my upper arm. But at least I was covered enough to hide the blots of red that bloomed like a rose on my shoulder through my shirt.
I scrambled to my feet hastily as I heard two men approaching me quickly ahead of the others.
As I reached for another Kunai on my shoulder the heavy cufflink of the jacket caught on one of the last few buttons on my shirt. My arm movement was so swift and clumsy that my shirt ripped open and the small bag that had been tucked down there fell to the floor. It bounced on the gravel lightly, and the echo of the knocked wood of the box recreated the sound of a guiro. It was probably chipped.
I have never been one to use profanities.
But as I dove after the treasure I probably recited the whole alphabet of curses.
I opened the bag quickly and tossed it to the floor to inspect my family's secret. I rubbed off the dirt on the surface of the small wooden box very carefully. I didn't know for sure how strong a hand would set off this supposedly colossal weapon. This small clumsy incident was enough of a distraction to allow the two men to completely cover the distance to me.
"Oi! It's the younger one!"
The wild and unknown voice broke my concentration. I turned back into the winding alley to see two hulking men trying to squeeze past each other in order to attack. They looked like two raging bulls, nudging the other into the walls so that they would have the chance to earn victory.
In turn they pulled a gun from inside their jackets and with my free hand I pulled mine from its holster. I doubted that I'd actually hit them though. My hands were unsteady. I fired three rounds in their direction and each of the bullets ricocheted off the walls and missed them horribly. By this time the man in the lead was close enough for me to see his gaping pores. He fired a bullet over my head.
What happened next wasn't the cause of luck.
My life didn't flash before my eyes. My life is far too long to see all at once. I was just contemplating what to write on my grave, what would happen to my brother, what would happen to the rest of the world with Orochimaru being in possession of the Sharingan. I squeezed the small box out of instinct and held it to my chest, over the insignia that hung around my neck.
And then...something washed over me.
It was like someone had just opened a window within me. I could practically feel the foreign winds of a different reality.
Whatever it was, it opened my third eye.
This is the power of the Sharingan.
The two men seemed to move at half of their original pace.
I saw the front man slowly pull the trigger of his handgun and aim right for my chest. The bullet eased out of the gun at a lazy speed and crept towards me. It was about to hit me, so I stepped to the side and it continued its path down the alley.
Another few bullets were fired and the same thing happened. I ducked and weaved around the blocks of floating metal and approached the two men. I couldn't move very fast either. There was this weight against me that stopped me from moving, like you would feel when you tried to run in water.
I raised my gun and held it directly to the forehead of one of the men. It was disgusting to see the slow detail of the bullet penetrating him. He obviously didn't have enough time to stop me and I saw his face contort in agony as the small metal object drilled itself through his skin, blood projecting from the wound to mark his face and my hand. I turned away before I saw it break through his skull.
The other man was only a second behind with his own gun locked onto me. His mouth was gaping as he screamed and saliva flooded from the crevices between his teeth where he was missing a few. I repeated my action but held the gun to his neck, shooting twice. I looked away this time so that I didn't have to observe the damage that I had inflicted upon him.
He still had life within him and I sensed him take another shot at me.
I knew it was coming and I knew where it was aimed for, but that unknown force stopped me from dodging it in time. It came towards my back, so I stepped to the side and turned around, only for it to mark its way deeply into my exposed hip.
That window within me closed and I felt all the power sucked from me. First, the two men hit the floor, and then I followed soon after. I put pressure on my fresh wound and saw my own nectar leaking onto the ground and stain my trousers.
I almost fell asleep there and then, but something then hit my face. It was a cold, clear liquid.
Rain.
I tell you with no trace of sarcasm that rain would actually increase my chances of a successful escape.
Other pedestrians would be running wildly to escape the unpleasant weather so I could easily seem unsuspicious if I ran. They would be almost as dishevelled as myself when soaked and I wouldn't seem too out of place. My hair would flatten when wet and I wouldn't fit my description of having naturally spiked hair. Rain would also disorient the men chasing me, making it harder for them to detect me.
The only downside to rain would be that water would coax faster blood loss from my wounds and also irritate my illness. Even with my immeasurable amount of endurance I would probably only be able to stay conscious for a little while longer, so my time for escape was limited.
I reached over to my sleeve that I had torn off not too long ago. I folded it a few times and tucked the bottom half into my trousers so that it covered my fresh wound. By tucking my tattered shirt into my trousers as well I managed to hold the makeshift bandage in place. I buttoned up the jacket to cover any patches of blood and tore Orochimaru's emblem off of the jacket pocket.
It was difficult to catch my breath, but I pretended that my breathing was even. I tensed my legs to stop my knees from shaking. I used the rainwater to pull back my hair and restyle it to look like I had gelled it back. Then I slipped the Sharingan into the jacket pocket, all the while keeping my hand on it.
Even while I was able to hear men screaming after me I suppressed the urge to run and managed to walk out onto the street looking completely calm and in character. Seeing business men jogging to their cars I gained the confidence to start a fast paced jog to look for a place to hide. Most shops were closed by now, but the bright lights of a small restaurant stayed lit.
"Ichikaru's"
I read the name out loud. It was busy with people trying to escape the rain, but there were a few free tables including a small booth at the back. I managed to pull off a purposeful entrance without having to slow down my jog. I pushed past a few tables towards the booth, not caring whether I needed a reservation or not.
When I sat down my hip hit the corner of the table. It took a lot of will power to hide my cringe of pain. I faked a cough to disguise my wince but that only served to disturb my shoulder wound that I had almost forgotten about.
The restaurant was disgusting; a bright red and yellow theme with plastic seating, paper menus and an open-view kitchen. I lowered my head to the menu but kept an eye on the large window at the front of the restaurant. When I saw the first of Orochimaru's men emerge from the alley I dropped my head into my hand and brushed back my hair. I could have fallen asleep in that position. When I closed my eyes it felt like I was in my cradle as a baby.
I didn't notice the waiter until he had begun to rudely wave his hands in front of my face.
"Pardon?"
I croaked and rubbed my eyes, looking up at him with disinterest. I didn't like his blonde hair. It reflected the glare from the spotlights and stung my dry eyes.
"I said. What do you want? If you're not eating then you can't stay here. Not enough tables for everyone."
He shrugged his shoulders and pointed a tanned hand to the menu, indicating that I had to make a decision. I chose the first thing I saw.
"I'll have the shoyu ramen."
"Anything to drink?"
"Do you have vodka?"
Alcohol was probably the worst choice of drink. It would dehydrate me even further and with an empty stomach it would take very little to get me quickly intoxicated. But I was in so much pain; I just needed to numb it for a little while.
"Not that I know of. People don't normally have spirits with ramen."
"Then get me the drink with the highest alcohol percentage."
"Do you have any I.D?"
I looked up at his face comically.
"Do you honestly think I look like a kid?"
He shrugged his shoulders for what seemed like the fifth time and scratched the markings on his cheeks lightly.
"It's our policy. You could have grey hair and a mile long beard and I'd still have to ask for I.D."
I snarled and very slowly reached into my pocket. I didn't have any of my fake identification cards with me. I only had my real drivers licence. If he saw who I was then I would be making a terrible risk.
The Uchiha name wasn't unknown around Tokyo. Of course the ever oblivious public associated my name with criminal workings thanks to our reputation of leaving the corpses of even worse criminals around town. They didn't understand what we did to help them.
If this stranger saw me then I could be reported to the police...or worse yet, I could be reported to Orochimaru. He had undercover agents scattered around the city like crumbs in a breadbin. It seemed impossible to count them all.
I looked to the window out of the corner of my eye for only half a moment.
More suited men had gathered onto the street, talking into earpieces and stopping pedestrians.
I didn't have much of a choice when I gave the man my I.D. but I was screaming at myself for doing so. I watched his face as he looked at my picture and read my details.
He took too long analysing it. And when he got this strange look on his face I was sure that he was going to shoot me then and there. His cheeks with the whisker marks twitched in a strange way, like he was hiding a smile.
"Cool. You're exactly two months older than me."
He handed it back with a cool expression. I was suspicious and a little alarmed by the fact that I wasn't already dead by now, but I snatched back my licence and pocketed it.
"Alright. Shoyu ramen and beer coming right-"
The waiter broke off midsentence. I looked up to see him distracted by something out of the front window.
"What's going on out there?"
Someone in the restaurant whispered loudly, and I realised that nearly everyone had turned their heads to see what all of the commotion was about.
About forty men had emerged from cars and alleyways to gather in the middle of the road, stopping traffic and grabbing every pedestrian that came near them. Each of them wore Orochimaru's emblem on their breast pockets.
I ducked my head quickly and covered my face in my hands. There was no way I would be resting tonight by the looks of it.
"Hey, are you alright?"
The stupid blonde was still standing there just looking at me.
"I'm great."
I hissed through my teeth and pulled back my hair once more. It felt nice. By pulling my hair I was distracted from the pain in the rest of my body, and my hazy mind would clear for just a moment.
I closed my eyes and fisted my hair again.
The blonde waiter still hadn't moved! I could feel him stealing my air. So, I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster under the circumstances.
He was obviously affected by my expression by the look on his own face. He stretched an awkward smile and flipped his notepad shut.
"Sorry. I'll just get your order."
With that he scuffled off.
I kept my eye on the window and waited for the men to clear.
If they weren't gone by the time I had finished a meal then I would just have to order another one.
Although I only had a bit of money on me it was still enough to keep me eating indoors for most of the evening, and maybe even a bit spare for a motel room.
I was hopeful that they wouldn't dare come into the diner. Orochimaru's men were reckless, but they weren't stupid. They should know from what little training they had that entering the diner was a huge risk if they ever hoped to successfully capture me.
So, as I suspected, they used what little initiative they had and split up into groups to search the streets, only doing as much as glancing in through the windows to check if I was hiding in a store. With my hair slicked back and my clothes changed I managed to stare an idiotic thug in the face and remain unrecognised. The man continued on.
I didn't feel a sense of achievement or pride in being able to hide from the enemy. I was acting like a coward and there was a part of my personality that hated the idea of such a thing. I even had an urge to dash out into the street and make myself know to the men just to restore that little bit of self respect that I had lost.
"Here you go. Shoyu and beer."
A bowl and glass were placed in front of me while I was still staring out of the window. I didn't even notice that I had been served until the sickly scent of the food invaded my senses.
"Thanks."
I braved a smile and raised my beer glass to the blonde waiter. It seemed to weigh more than I had expected and I could feel the strain of my muscles in my shoulder. But I swallowed the cold drink gratefully, savouring the dull, drunken haze that slowly came over me. I already felt that little bit more optimistic and some of my will returned to me just from that one pint of alcohol.
Before the waiter walked away I handed him a handful of money from my pocket that I didn't even check to count. I could already see that I had dramatically overpaid for the watery ramen that I had been served.
"Keep the change."
I told him and I got out from the booth to leave.
I could hear the man calling after me as I stormed out.
"Hey, that ramen took effort to make you know? The least you could do is taste it!"
With my new, slightly drunk outlook I didn't even notice that everyone in the restaurant was looking at me. I just moved fluidly and confidently around the tables and out the door, trying to look casual and uncaring that there were still suited men lurking about the street.
"Oi, you tipped me ¥5000! Hey, you!"
The waiter called from the entrance of the restaurant and I waved him away so not to draw any attention to myself, wishing that he would accept my generous donation as a blessing rather than something to be suspicious about.
I walked at a leisurely pace to no set destination. My home was probably under high security and that filthy spy, Kabuto, had probably revealed to Orochimaru the locations of our 'safe houses', so they weren't an option either.
But, despite my uncertainty I stormed on with drunken assurance.
I would find a motel outside of the city to rest and prepare for a while, at least until I was fit and sober enough to defend myself properly. Then I would find Itachi.
Walking within a small crowd of strangers I felt the rain once again soak through my clothes and soften the dried blood of my wounds. Red rivulets began to form through my white shirt, down my temple and face, across my hands from under my sleeves. It was becoming increasingly noticeable that I wasn't in a healthy condition.
I could even hear the quiet plod of another man's footsteps keeping in perfect pace with my own.
For a moment I questioned if it was an enemy, and if it was then why were they following me instead of shooting me on sight.
But it didn't matter. Either way I intended to get away from them.
Tripping over myself I ducked into another alley, feeling as though I was just going back on myself after finally getting out into the open.
Suddenly, after falling into a wall I felt the pain in my hip double. The bullet was still in there and I could feel every curve of it digging into my flesh. Not even the alcohol could numb it. So I held my hand over the open wound and put on as much pressure as I could with my weakness, slowly sliding to the floor to find a comfortable position.
With the wet floor soaking through my suit I pulled out another kunai and waited for my stalker.
When I saw a looming silhouette at the entrance of the alley I myself frozen, thinking by the muscled build of them that it was one of Orochimaru's lackeys.
But there was something different about this man that I noticed instantly.
He wore an apron instead of a suit.
And his blonde hair glimmered like a halo, reflecting the streetlights behind him.
"Jesus, next time you try to hide an injury make sure you don't leave blood stains all over the seat. That chair is going to take ages to clean."
It was the stupid waiter from the restaurant, come to try and play the hero in my sob story.
"Now, where are you injured?"
He huffed as he approached me with a confident stride.
"I don't need your help."
"Is that why you're on the floor?"
I broke eye contact with him after I was overtaken with a sense of shame. I tried to get back up on my own, but my legs crumbled beneath me.
A tanned paw was held out towards me.
"Give me your hand and I'll help you up. We need to get you to hospital."
The mentioning of the word hospital had me in panic. In a hospital I would be a sitting duck in open waters.
Batting his hand away from me I edged to the wall and clawed myself to standing.
"No, we don't need to get me anywhere. I need to get home. Now if you'd excuse me."
He grabbed my shoulder, effectively pulling me into him.
"Woah, woah. You aren't going anywhere on your own like that. Now let me at least see you're wound. I'll be the judge of whether you should go to a hospital or not."
"I'm being serious now. Leave me alone. You're really annoying."
"Just let me look."
As he tried to unbutton the jacket I wore I found new strength in desperation and pushed him into the opposite wall, nearly making myself fall over as well. I almost felt guilty to see him wince at the impact.
"You don't even know me. Go away!"
I tried to rush back out into the street in order to escape this ridiculously good willed idiot.
"Hold up! I just-"
He lunged for me and seized my hand in his own.
I didn't do anything to struggle out of his grip at first, because he wasn't doing anything either. He just held my hand and gave me a strange look as though he were analysing me.
At first I contemplated over how his hand was unusually warm.
But after thinking about it for a moment, I realised that it was my hand that was unusually warm due to my fever.
He probably discovered that quite quickly, because I didn't have enough time to react when he placed his other hand on my forehead.
"You dumbass! You've got a really bad fever! What the hell are you doing wandering 'round if you're that sick?"
I peeled his hand off me and considered knocking him out as an option to cut this meeting short.
"Are you the one those thugs are after?"
I didn't answer and proceeded back onto the street.
"They're obviously gonna get you sooner rather than later if you don't-"
Bang.
A bullet hit the wall next to me. The fucking son-of-a-blonde-stupid-bitch blew my cover. Now, I had to run for my fucking life!
"Holy shit! That was damn close!"
"Shut up and run you stupid civilian!"
Pulling on the collar of his shirt I convinced the man to follow me in escaping. If I'd left him to stand there the poor idiot probably would have just let them shoot him and not realised it until he was on the floor spilling his guts out.
"It's the Uchiha! All men to the alley by fourth."
I heard the booming voice of the man who was now chasing the two of us back through the alley to where I had started from. I was just taking one random turn after the next and my blonde baggage was following me just as blindly.
"Where are you running to?"
He shouted to me over the sound of bullets drilling into the bricks of the alley walls.
"I don't know."
"How many guys are after you?"
"I don't know."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"So why do they want to kill you?"
"There are many reasons."
"Aren't you gonna tell me?"
A bullet came at me from above and I found myself sprinting at twice the speed that I had been before, with my blonde companion struggling to keep up.
"They're on the roof, too!"
"Nice use of detective skills Sherlock, but I can see that for myself."
"I'm just trying to help!"
"Well, you don't have the right to! Now shut up and just follow me!"
My short burst of energy was quickly fading, and my footing suddenly becoming not as confident as it had been. There were goons shooting from behind us, from the fire escapes above us and even emerging from back doors of the buildings we passed, as though they were infinitely spawning from nowhere. I was running out of ideas and will power very quickly.
"Ah, I know this alley!"
My temporary accomplice behind me shouted to me and sped up to meet me, grabbing my hand in the process. His stamina was surprising.
"Come on!"
He sprung to action now that he had an idea where we were, dragging me behind him by our linked hands. I just allowed myself to be pulled, putting more trust in the idiot than I should have. I'd be passed out in a matter of minutes anyway, no matter where he took me.
After having torrents of rain blind me at the speed we were going I was forced to lower my head, leaving only the sight of our dashing feet hitting the tarmac to give me a clue as to where I was going.
I was suddenly pulled sharply to the left and the bullets quietened as our pursuers tried to catch up to us.
My hand was released and I looked up to see what was happening.
The light haired man was pulling and banging on the heavy back door of an unused department store. I took that moment to catch my breath and lean against the wall. The buffoon was wasting my time to escape and allowing the enemy to cover the distance between us.
Pulling out my gun I tried to pull the guy away from the door.
"No use trying to open it, you idiot! It's probably locked and you can't-"
I was interrupted by him lifting his leg and planting one swift kick to the door, effectively swinging it open; a strength that had taken me years of training to achieve.
I didn't have enough time to be shocked or threatened by this man's skill because he was already pulling me through the open door and throwing me across the storage room.
"Find something to keep this closed!"
He ordered while slamming it shut.
Snapping to attention I waded through boxes in a frantic search, smashing a few packaged lamps in the process. Hidden beneath a pile of wrapped up chairs and tables at the back was a large loading trolley. It was heavy and stiff to push, but I managed to wheel it over to the door and he minded out of the way to help me. We worked as though we were in synch. Before I had to ask him he was breaking off a table leg to jam the wheels of the trolley. We were off running into the store just as they started to kick at the other side of the door.
"There's an underground station just round the corner from here. If we can get there unnoticed then it should be easy sailing."
I silently agreed and just followed him through the store like a lost child in the dark. The silhouettes of furniture and mannequins all looked menacing to me while I was on high alert. Strangely I preferred being outside under the street lamps where I was able to see those who attacked me instead of being under an unfamiliar roof where I couldn't decipher where the shadows ended and the solid objects began.
A stream of light emitted from the glass entrance, streaked by graffiti and flyers. The door wouldn't be alarmed but it would most certainly be locked.
Wanting to prove to myself and the man next to me that I wasn't a weakling like I was being made out to be, I kicked the door with all my strength while in mid-leap. The glass cracked but didn't shatter and the metal of the frame was dented with the impact of my foot. I didn't stop to admire my handy work and just dashed on as planned, once again in the lead like it was supposed to be.
We had yet to be followed.
My accomplice had a wide smile across his face as though he thought we were home free.
The underground entrance came into view. We were probably only a few minutes away from catching the last train for the evening.
Then, just as I began to descend down the concrete stairs, a gruff cry came from over my shoulder and the warm weight of a human body was crushed against me.
My shoulder took most of the blow and I was temporarily blinded with pain. I bit my lip in attempt to hold back a cry of my own and I felt my knees buckle and shake. I blacked out after I tumbled and saw the next step come up to greet me. When I composed myself again I was lying at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the entrance with a blonde head of hair resting upon my chest and my gun that had skidded a few feet away from me.
Just those few seconds of being unconscious had frightened the life out of me. I couldn't remember the pain of my impact with the stairs, but I could feel the remains of it when I tried to sit up.
"Mother fucker! Get the hell off of me!"
I screamed and tried to scramble out from beneath the crushing weight of the man on top of me. His limbs were digging into every fresh wound. The pain was so unbearable that I found it a necessary emergency to allow myself to curse; not that I could have stopped myself from screaming bloody murder anyway.
In his panic to get off of me the imbecile dug his hand into my wounded shoulder to lift himself, only causing me to scream that little bit louder.
"Oh shit, oh shit-I'm so sorry. My leg-h-he shot me in the leg-I couldn't stop myself-are you okay?-oh fuck of course you're not-fuck-"
He rambled on, gently tucking his arm underneath my back so to pull me into a sitting position. Of course, I couldn't feel what he was doing anymore. I was too focused on the throbbing hole in my shoulder and the numbing ache in my head that was telling me to plug the leaks in my body as fast as fucking possible. I was shaking pretty badly.
"Okay, you've gotta get up. We'll help each other walk okay? But we gotta hurry 'coz the last train is leaving soon."
I nodded, barely hearing him, and used his shoulder and arm to pull myself up. He was the one to pick up my gun and put it back in my hand.
The train station was practically empty. There were no security guards to stop us from climbing over the turnstiles.
We both shuffled ridiculously towards the platform while using each other for support. My arm was around his neck and his was around my waist.
"There he is! I'll fucking kill you, you little-"
A bullet ricocheted off of the metal turnstile, and other smashed the glass of the booth beside it.
As we shuffled together I blindly aimed my gun behind me and shot wildly. By the sound of it, two of the bullets I fired hit nothing but air. But when I fired the third one their came a yell and the echo of a man calling me something along the lines of 'a cocksucking mother-fucker'.
If I had looked back I would have seen that the bullet had torn through his wrist and that his gun had skidded through the turnstile and towards us.
But we didn't look back and practically dragged ourselves to the platform where the last train of the evening had just that second opened the doors to the station.
We let go of eachother to make a dash for the doors and impacted the other side of the train once we had made it inside.
With a white-knuckled grip on the handle above me I saw the doors slide shut, and through the glass I watched as the train began to creep through the station. It was when the train had just about departed when I saw three suited men with guns run onto the platform in search for us.
When the train jerked in motion I went with it and collapsed onto an empty seat.
"Shit, that was intense. You got a place to escape to?"
He'd sat down next to me, I could feel him brush my side, but I didn't have the strength to answer.
"Hey, you okay? Oi!"
Letting out a deep sigh I let my eyes roll back, and my gun slipped from my hand without me hearing that it had hit the floor.
Man, that chapter wasn't even very long, but it took me ages to write. I've been so determined to finish it so that I could get to the proper action.
If anyone has wanted to read this story, sorry for the immense lateness. My laptop went 'boom' and the screen fell off of it and all of the stuff inside it was lost. So after writing almost all of the chapter and then having it disappear was a real downer. Had to write it all over again. This means that my other stories are in the same condition and I'm getting too busy to be able to properly concentrate on them.
But luckily I have written out all of the dialogue for the next few chapters of this story and my other ones. I've just got to write what is actually going on and use my theasaurus on it.
I'm trying really hard and I hope you like this chapter...I put a hell of a lot of effort into it and i hope it pays off. But if there are any typos or errors of any kind then please tell me about them so that I can fix them. Thanks a bunch
Bed of nails and sandpaper
(my writer name is starting to sound very odd to me...I might need to change it to something less sinister)