The thin, twisting rivulet curled around the curve of his pale wrist, scarlet on marble, dripping down into a shallow silver basin held by a hand that was only slightly less pale. After filling the dish almost halfway, Sakura pressed her hand to the small cut she'd made on Sasuke's arm, easily closing the minor wound; then, focusing her chakra into a sharp edge, she made an identical cut on the underside of her own forearm, carefully counting the crimson droplets as they fell, watching the liquid representation of her own life mingle with the Uchiha's.
There had been a time when the sight of blood had left Sakura feeling decidedly woozy; thankfully those days were long past. She'd spent so much time practically wallowing in the stuff both in the hospital's Intensive Care Units and out on the mission field that now she scarcely batted an eyelash when dealing with any amount of it. Even Tsunade, who had herself experienced a long bout of hemophobia and would have been the first to sympathize with any discomfort experienced by her young apprentice, had marveled at her "remarkable constitution."
Sakura had never been so glad of that remarkable constitution as she was now.
Once the silver bowl contained a more or less balanced amount of their blood, she closed up the wound in her own arm and, glancing over the scroll once more, moved on to the next step. Dipping her fingers into the still-warm, sticky substance, she carefully began to smear scarlet characters in the pattern indicated by the scroll: first looped into a large circle that brushed the edges of the room, then into a smaller circle inside the first, then an eight-sided star pattern that ran through them both, connecting them; next came half circles on the sides of the star, followed by seemingly random lines and shapes here and there; then another, tighter circle immediately surrounding the subject…
Finally finishing the intricate seal (the outer portion of it, in any case) she moved back to the pale form still lying on the bed in the center of the room. He was uncovered and clad in only a pair of shorts--he had to be, since according to the scroll he would be nearly covered in symbols--and in the dim light, his skin looked even more perfect, a smooth, bloodless grey ivory.
She hesitated at besmirching his body with the claret characters required by the jutsu, not entirely certain as to why she wavered; in a moment's time, however, the hesitance had evaporated, and she bent to the task.
As she smeared characters across his chest, midriff, and limbs, it gradually dawned on her that she wasn't at all frightened, which surprised her a bit. She knew that by all rights her hands should have been shaking with fear, making it difficult to leave the appropriate markings, but they were steady and sure and the markings were neat and perfect; the only emotions that she could find within herself were determination and a deadly calm.
It truly was a delicate and dangerous procedure, and she knew it, too. The slightest smear, the smallest mistake in alignment, just one incorrect or omitted character, would cause the jutsu to fail, and the results of that were far from pleasant. Mental instability or brain damage to either, both, or (if it was being performed by a group) all involved was the "most likely" result should the jutsu go awry, though the scroll also mentioned that the primary user (in this case Sakura) might slip into an oftentimes irreversible coma, or might end up trapped in the subject (Sasuke)'s mind for good.
None of those options were particularly appealing to the pink-haired medic-nin, so she was determined to do this right. (Not that she was worried, really: this was book stuff after all, her specialty.)
While she was waiting the required half-hour for the blood to dry and the seal to set itself, after double and triple checking each symbol just to be absolutely certain that they were all correct (and then hiding the forbidden scroll at the bottom of one of her desk drawers in her office three floors down), only then did the faintest traces of doubt begin tickling her conscience. Was she just being selfish by forcing him to stay alive? She almost felt guilty. After all, Sasuke had made it pretty clear that he didn't want to be there with them, that he didn't even want to be alive at all.
"Of course, we don't always want what's really best for us, do we?" Tsunade's voice suddenly echoed in her memory, followed by Neji's, Naruto's and her own:
"You saved a life, which is what you have been trained to do. It would have been impossible for you as a medic-nin to merely stand by and let him die. Had I been in your place, I would have done the same; I would have saved him, too. There should be no guilt in what you have done."
"Don't give up on him. Like Tsunade-baa-chan said, if anyone has a chance of helping him, it's you. So don't give up."
"I won't. Not ever."
Not ever.
Her mouth set in a firm, solemn line, Sakura slowly etched the required symbols into Sasuke's forearms--chi (blood), kizuna (bond), chisei (mind), tōjō (entrance), yurusu (allow), seishin (spirit), chōwa (unity)--before making identical cuts on her own forearms. Then, knuckles clenched white around the scalpel, she carved the symbol tomodachi (friend) in the palm of one of her hands and ai (love) in the other, pressed them together with great deliberation, and carefully began forming the necessary hand signs.
When they had first become teammates on their graduation from the Academy, Sakura hadn't known very much about Sasuke's past. She had always been curious, but she honestly didn't know how to broach the subject—he seemed so sensitive about it, and he wasn't exactly the most communicative person in the world either, so there was no guarantee that he would have answered her even if she had asked. He probably would have brushed her off as usual, insulted her ninja skills (or lack thereof) for good measure, and then gone off in an even worse mood than usual with his apparently quite troubling past at the forefront of his mind once more.
Not exactly the twelve-year-old love-struck Sakura's ideal situation. And so she'd never asked, not daring to risk incurring his anger. She'd since regretted this lack of nerve on her part, but she had ended up learning quite a bit about him through secondary sources.
She'd learned that his entire clan had been killed by his older brother, who had then left Konoha to become a member of the Akatsuki. She'd learned that Itachi had been an exceptional ninja, a true prodigy who effortlessly excelled in everything he attempted, and she was smart enough to guess that there must have been some sort of sibling rivalry there. She'd seen the terrible condition that Itachi had reduced him to after their first encounter in four years, and she'd also seen how much that absolute defeat had disturbed her teammate. Later on she'd even managed to pry information about the Sharingan and its ultimate form out of Naruto, who looked decidedly dejected both during and after relaying everything he knew about it to her, and Sakura had been properly horrified on learning that the Mangekyō could only be obtained by killing one's closest friend.
But none of that prepared her for actually experiencing Sasuke's memories firsthand.
There was something glowing, rippling up ahead; she could sense it. Sakura's spirit-self slowly opened its eyes, staring in wonder at the brightness before her. It almost looked like a collage of golden autumn leaves, though there were bright spots of clear, tawny light shining through in places.
She drifted to a halt, hesitating once more just inches away from contacting the shimmering whatever-it-was, which Sakura strongly suspected to be Sasuke's mind. It didn't really look like a brain, which surprised her a bit. I wonder if this is what Ino sees at first whenever she takes control of someone else's body. The thought skittered rodent-like through her head, then disappeared as she focused once more, reaching out with ghostly hands, pushing them firmly through the aureate bubble, the rest of her spirit-self sliding through after.
The first thing that hit her--and it hit her like a freight train--was the pain. It wasn't a physical pain at all; it was worse than that. It was a gut-twisting, breath-choking, chest-contracting ache, a feeling of intense inferiority and failure…
…And it was a feeling that Sakura recognized quite well.
Accompanying it was heartbreak, which she had also experienced herself, though his was of a slightly different flavor: richer, deeper, more mature, and infinitely more bitter. She had forgiven Sasuke for breaking her heart, and she still cared about him despite the fact that he'd ignored, or else outright rejected, her offerings of love, affection, and a relationship; but for Sasuke, his heartbreak was comprised mostly of loneliness, of yearning for the loving touch of people long gone who could never return.
It was nearly stifling, and Sakura had to struggle not to gasp and choke as she forced her way through…and into his memories.
Of course, she thought as she watched a few glimmering snatches of his past flit by, I suppose it makes sense. One's mind stores all sorts of things, memories included…
Moving forward once more (though how exactly she knew which way forward was, she had no idea), she allowed one of the gleaming, transparent recollections to drift over her, and instantly her sight was filled with a bright street and the back of someone's head, her ears with the sound of a voice that was very familiar, and yet different, her skin aware of the arms tucked under and around her legs while (his? her?) own arms looped around that someone's neck.
She could feel the deep sense of exhaustion settled firmly over her body--no, this was Sasuke's body, Sasuke's memory, she had to remind herself--as well as a strange mixture of gratefulness and humiliation towards the someone carrying him along.
He both loves and hates this person very much, Sakura knew—she really knew for the first time exactly how Sasuke felt—and with a jolt, she realized just who this someone was. This…this is Itachi carrying him…
"Nii-san," Sasuke said in an adorably high and childlike voice, "I'll walk."
"Don't push yourself."
Sakura shivered at that velvet voice; he sounded so much like Sasuke had at that age, and yet so different as well. It seemed a terrible thing to be glad of, but Sakura was in no small measure relieved that this Uchiha was no longer among the living: he sounded dangerous.
"What's wrong?"
"This is where Tou-san works, right?" A large building filled her eyes, the focus of which was the blue four-pointed star symbol on the building's front.
"Yeah, it's the Konoha Military Police Headquarters."
"I've been wondering about this for a while, but why is the Uchiha Clan's crest on the Military Police's emblem?"
Itachi seemed surprised by the question. "You noticed?"
"Of course!"
Itachi went on to explain how the ancestors of the Uchiha Clan had established the police force, so their crest was the primary focus of the Military Police's emblem; Sakura smiled sadly as Sasuke excitedly declared that when he grew up, he'd join the police force, too.
So that was your dream once upon a time, when you still believed in dreams…
Sakura watched, intrigued, as Itachi and Sasuke met their father, saw how Itachi sensed Sasuke's hurt and disappointment at their father's disregard for the younger of his two sons, observed how the older brother carefully maneuvered the father into the position he desired. And while she could feel Sasuke's gratitude towards the older boy for his actions, Sakura could also feel the bewildering distance that he felt between Itachi and himself…
That memory slowly faded away, and Sakura found herself almost instantly reaching for another, then another and another....
She quickly found that most of these early memories were dominated by solitude, frustration, and an intense hunger for approval, though there were also memories that contained a beautiful, kind-faced woman with black eyes and long, dark hair that brought a wash of happiness, appreciation, adoration, and deep, unconditional love. His mother, she thought in awe as she watched the woman carefully tend to some burn marks on Sasuke's face. It did not escape Sakura's notice that her current hairstyle was very much like this woman's. Mikoto-san, the medic-nin reminded herself as she watched the mother and son interact; it was not difficult to tell that his mother was the most precious person in the world to him.
(This also explained where he'd gotten his good looks—he favored his mother very much, she thought with an inward chuckle.)
But his mother's kindness did not change the fact that Itachi was always ahead, always better somehow, and Sasuke had to struggle just to keep up; surpassing him was impossible. And oh, how he longed to be recognized by his father…
And so he trained and studied and worked hard—he was naturally gifted, yes, but even innate talent needed to be honed and perfected. The book learning came easily enough (though not as easily as it comes to me, Sakura thought rather smugly), but though he practiced with his kunai and shuriken until he was exhausted, somehow he still just wasn't as good as Itachi, and the feeling of inferiority ate at him ruthlessly.
Nevermind the fact that Itachi is several years older and that Sasuke would probably have caught up with him in time, the medic-nin thought with a skeptical snort as the familiar sensation of uselessness and inadequacy washed over her yet again. She was drawn forward into still more memories, a grouping of them which lay dull and flat, as if their shine had been worn away by frequent use. Sakura's eyes widened as she took these ones in—they were terrible and traumatic, not to mention emotionally and psychologically scarring:
She stared in shock as Sasuke ran through the destroyed Uchiha section of Konoha, his wide eyes darting everywhere, taking in the scattered kunai and shuriken amidst the blood and motionless bodies of his once-proud clan; she watched in helpless horror as he found his parents lying on the floor in a pool of blood and moonlight; and she nearly choked on rage and loathing as Itachi stepped from the shadows and, with infinite coolness, admitted to being the one responsible for this nightmare-turned-reality.
Sudden, intense anger rushed through him at the sheer stupidity of Itachi's reasoning ('To test my capacity'? 'To measure the depth of my container'? That was Itachi's motivation? And he was supposed to be the genius of the family?), and he lunged to his feet, rushing headlong at the older boy, though what he was going to do when he reached him was a mystery, as Sasuke was unarmed while Itachi certainly was not. However, before he could even land a punch, his brother had driven a fist into his gut, dropping him to the floor.
Fear was pounding through Sakura's veins now along with anger, and she recognized both as belonging to Sasuke and the memory, though there were other, fainter emotions that had been attached to that horrific event later on that she could feel as well: hatred, shame, and self-loathing.
Then Sasuke ran, begging for his life, Itachi followed and appeared before him once more, and Sakura took in all in from the younger brother's eyes, staring up at the implacable face of the Uchiha prodigy through an eight-year-old's tear- and panic-blurred vision.
"This must be a lie." The medic-nin could feel Sasuke's body trembling in fear and exhaustion. "This isn't how my brother is. Because…"
"I played the role of the older brother you wanted," Itachi cut in calmly, his tone flat and harsh, "to test your capacity. The one who will test my capacity…you have that potential." His eyes, dark and cloudy and so much like their mother's, narrowed as he glared down at his younger brother. "You thought of me as unpleasant and hated me. You've always wanted to surpass me. That's why I'm going to let you live…for my sake."
Confusion, anger, fear, and several other emotions all melded together in a bewildering rush as Itachi went on, explaining the awful secret of the Mangekyō Sharingan and hinting at another secret relating to the Uchiha clan itself.
"If you can activate it, the number of people, including me, who can use the Mangekyō Sharingan will be three. If that happens—" here he gave a dark chuckle "—there is a reason to let you live. But at the moment…" Itachi's face contracted with loathing as he turned his head sideways and shifted his balance, causing Sasuke to gasp and flinch "…you aren't even worth killing." He closed his eyes, disdain clear on his usually smooth countenance. "My foolish little brother. If you want to kill me, despise me, hate me, and live a loathsome life…run, run, and cling to life. And then some day, when you have the same eyes I do, come before me." The older boy's eye flickered open, revealing that despicable three-bladed pinwheel, and Sasuke suddenly found that he could not look away.
Then, mercifully, the surrounding street was wavering, the ground was rushing up at his face, and everything went black once more.
Slowly the world faded back into existence, and Sakura found that Sasuke was staring up at the familiar (to her) ceiling of the Konoha hospital.
A dream…? he wondered, then winced as sitting up caused a pang to run through his arm…the one Itachi had grazed with a shuriken back when he'd first found his parent's bodies. He slipped out of the hospital past the gossiping nurses, then ran to the Uchiha sector of the city, pausing to catch his breath as rain-laden grey clouds skidded by overhead. As he stepped inside, the rain began to fall, hesitantly at first, as if unsure as to whether it wanted to touch the ground where such atrocities had so recently occurred, though soon it was rushing down in torrents.
Standing there in the rain, the only survivor of the Uchiha clan massacre was forced to accept that what had happened the night before was not just a dream: it was real. The realization of that fact nearly crushed him, and Sakura too; she had little doubt that her physical body had tears pouring from the eyes.
Oh, Sasuke…I had no idea. But of course I didn't…how could you share something like this, after all? The medic-nin shook her head: his introversion and moodiness seemed a great deal more understandable and forgivable when one knew what he'd been through…in fact, she doubted that she would be able to blame him for much of anything any more, not after seeing this.
Sasuke slowly made his way to his empty home, accompanied only by the hollow memories of loved ones and the hissing droplets dashing themselves violently to the ground all around him. He numbly wandered through the rooms, so vacant of light and human warmth, yet so full of memories, not caring that he was leaving a trail of wet footprints on the polished wood floors. At last he collapsed on he knees before the white-chalk outlines of his parents' bodies, smears of blood still staining the floor; and as the lightning crashed and the rain continued to beat relentlessly on the roof, tears poured down his face, mingling with the rainwater that still dripped from his saturated clothing.
The memory slowly melted away, and then there were snatches of the four long years of loneliness, where he ate, slept, read, trained, did everything alone. There were people around him nearly all the time, but he closed himself off to them emotionally: making friends, making attachments, would not help him kill Itachi, and that was all that mattered.
…At least, it was all that mattered until he was placed in Team 7 under one Hatake Kakashi.
Suddenly he was forced to really interact and rely on people once again, though at first he resented it more than anything else. Naruto was stupid, a loudmouthed buffoon who talked big, but was insufferably weak. Sakura found that she herself had also been regarded as useless, and of course annoying, though there was a grudging respect for her book smarts and her intelligence. Kakashi-sensei was viewed as a perverted old man, and since he was stronger than Sasuke at the time, there was resentment there as well, though it was accompanied by a smug certainty that, in time, he would easily surpass the silver-haired jounin.
…But then something started to happen. Instead of it being a trial to be endured, the time Sasuke spent with the rest of Team 7 slowly became precious to the Uchiha survivor. Each member, while seen as nothing more than a hindrance at first, gradually became special to him in various, irresistible ways; bonds were formed, and Sasuke found that he could not break them...and for a long time, he didn't want to.
Once again, it was Itachi who destroyed the peace in his life, and Sasuke's focus suddenly snapped back to his goal of killing his older brother. Anger and self-loathing filled his consciousness once more as the lingering inferiority complex from his childhood came roaring back stronger than ever.
…And as much as the idea of leaving Naruto, Kakashi, and herself behind--the first people to truly care about him for a long time--hurt him, Sasuke's heart had been dedicated to revenge much longer than it had been dedicated to any of them.
Regardless of that, she watched as Kakashi attempted to reason with him after Sasuke and Naruto had nearly killed each other on the roof of the Konoha hospital, and she felt a wash of pleasure when she found that the Uchiha survivor truly did think of her as an "important friend."
A blurry rush of fighting, a sense of pain, panic, and angry desperation slashed through that memory however. Following closely after that, Sakura caught a glimpse of a night she remembered all too well: an image of her own tear-streaked face and the sound of her trembling voice begging him not to go...but this time, she experienced firsthand the feeling of cold irritation that slowly faded into a wash of gratitude tempered by a faint sense of regret that he had felt towards her for attempting to stop him, though by that point his resolve had already hardened far beyond anything she could say or do. Naruto's method of persuasion had been decidedly more violent and physically painful, but equally futile; after a long, awe-inspiring battle, he left Naruto unconscious and continued resolutely on his path into darkness.
Then the memories became less distinct, melting into a more fluid substance, flowing by in a blur--the two-and-a-half years spent with Orochimaru, no doubt--though from the brief glimpses that she did get, Sakura was actually rather glad that those memories were jumbled and unfocused. I'll bet that's just one more effect of that jutsu he said Itachi used on him, Sakura thought. Destroying Sasuke's memories, and thus the knowledge of many of Orochimaru's forbidden techniques in the process, most likely. The actions of Sasuke's elder brother, while often terrible and even outright sickening, still confused her somewhat. I wonder if Sasuke ever really found out why Itachi did what he did…I wonder if Itachi ever actually told anyone. Somehow, I doubt it.
Her attention was suddenly pulled back into the stream of memories as a startlingly clear one floated to the surface: the new Team 7's first confrontation with Uchiha Sasuke, the shinobi of Sound.
His feelings towards them bordered on apathy, and the memory seemed odd and cloudy, as if he'd been drugged or under the influence of some strange jutsu, but sudden, shocking clarity overcame that cloudiness when they actually attacked him. She felt his sharp but brief flicker of surprise as she watched her fifteen-year-old self leap forward at him, only to be knocked aside by Yamato, who took the point of Sasuke's kusanagi in his shoulder for his trouble.
Slowly that memory faded back into the blurry stream, and for a long time Sakura could make out nothing from the jumbled mass of pain, regret, bloodlust, disgust, and dull, dogged hatred that swirled and eddied around her.
Things were momentarily comprehensible once again as she saw Orochimaru stepping towards him, a snaky leer stretched across this unnaturally pale face, and then there was an explosion of unprecedented physical pain; in the tiny part of her consciousness not overwhelmed by that unmatched agony, Sakura could see snatches of purple flame and some dark thing crouching there before her... Then suddenly the pain stopped, and everything went dark.
Just like Sasuke said when he told me what happened…Sakura thought thickly, vestiges of that unparalleled pain still sending an occasional twinge through her. There were a few ripples and slight disturbances in the smooth, inky blackness that surrounded her, but for the most part there was nothing but silky satin jet. Despite knowing how dangerous such an action was, the medic-nin felt her eyelids slowly dragging downwards.
So this is what he meant…when he said it was peaceful…
She had begun to cease fighting the soothing murkiness that had wrapped itself shroud-like around her when everything suddenly snapped crystal-clear once more…and Sakura found herself staring straight into murderous, black-swirled crimson eyes through eyes that she knew were of an identical hue.
Itachi.
"Foolish little brother," he was saying in that sonorous, perpetually calm tone that made Sakura shiver in fear. "I know for a fact that Uzumaki Naruto is still alive; thus, you do not possess the Mangekyō. You are still far too weak to challenge me."
"Shut up, bastard," Sasuke hissed, stepping towards him. "I've gone through hell to stand here today…I've done as you said and nursed my hatred while I lived the most loathsome life I can imagine. And now…" He took an additional two steps, then stopped, falling into a defensive stance. "…Now, I'll kill you."
Itachi snorted. "At least you've learned not to rush at me blindly, Sasuke." A cold smile twisted his lips and his eyes narrowed in anticipation. "I sincerely hope that you will make this worth my time. If you did otherwise, that would be…shameful, would it not? But first—" in a flash he was standing before Sasuke, the tomoe in his eyes expanding and melding into those all-too-familiar pinwheels, and the younger brother found with a pang of horror that once again he could not look away or even move "—let us ensure that there will be no intrusion upon our fight…"
Sasuke gasped as a flash of intense pain lanced through his head, followed closely by a sharp tearing sensation, then another and another, as if Itachi was somehow slicing through or ripping away pieces of his mind; Itachi's eyes had narrowed into thin slashes of scarlet, and his hands were carefully folded in the Sign of the Rooster. "Fūin Jutsu: Genryū Gaikoku no Hito Fūjin!" Despite the nearly blinding pain, Sasuke forced himself to watch closely as his brother's hands flew through a long, complicated series of seals, finally stopping once again in the Sign of the Rooster. Any jutsu Itachi used might prove useful later, and this one seemed to be pushing Orochimaru's psyche forcefully back while his own was being more fully pulled to the forefront; then walls slammed up between himself and Orochimaru, and his mind was entirely his own once more, though his head felt heavy...and certain memories seemed vague or missing altogether. He fancied could feel the snake sannin clawing at the mental barriers Itachi had set up, but for the moment, it seemed as if those barriers would hold.
And suddenly he could move again, and he stumbled backward away from Itachi, clutching his head and glaring at the emotionless face of the shinobi before him.
"That's better," Itachi said with a faint smirk. "Now then…" One dark brow arched upward just slightly. "I thought you were going to kill me?"
With an almost inhuman snarl, Sasuke threw himself forwards, kusanagi already drawn and poised to strike, webs of electricity dancing over and around the blade.
The battle between the last remaining members of the Uchiha Clan (or what Sakura could see of it) was a blur; the brothers' movements were astonishingly quick and fluid, fists and feet flying, jutsus snapped out with unbelievable rapidity, kunai and shuriken hurled with absolute precision, and katana and kusanagi clashing hard enough to throw sparks, and all the while the penetrating gaze of the Sharingan watched and saw all.
But surprisingly enough, the memory felt dull somehow, as if it were something Sasuke wasn't really all that proud of; it was shadowy and largely indistinct, making it hard to distinguish what exactly was going on amidst the speed and confusion of the battle. Fire and electricity and genjutsu were thick, and smoke and the darkness of the forest itself obscured her vision even more.
Then inexplicably the memory seemed to skip ahead, and Sakura was taken aback to find herself staring down at the bloodied form of Uchiha Itachi. A gaping hole had been ripped in his chest, making it obvious that he was not long for this world.
However, Itachi was a being possessed of a rare sort of grace, and that grace did not leave him even when mortally wounded. And even as he lay on the ground in a spreading pool of his own blood, his mien altered not a whit: he was still as calm, arrogant, and self-possessed as the victim as he was as the victor, if not more so.
"Well done, Sasuke," he murmured as the Sharingan slowly faded from his eyes, leaving them cold, black, and empty. "I should not have underestimated you." He smiled faintly to himself, looking vaguely thoughtful. "Mother always said that you were stronger than I thought you were…It would seem that she was right about at least one thing after all."
"You have no right to speak of her that way," the younger brother growled, eyes still scarlet and narrowed in hatred.
Itachi snorted softly. "What are you going to do, Sasuke? Kill me a second time?"
Sasuke clenched his jaw so tightly the muscles ached, but he forced his countenance into a carefully cool and collected expression; even now his brother mocked him! Well, he'd put an end that…
Without a moment's hesitation, he drove the black blade of his kusanagi into Itachi's stomach, his face hard and expressionless and entirely too similar to the one that gazed up at him from the ground.
"…Say that again, bastard," he said, his tone chilling.
Despite his position and the pain he must have been feeling, Itachi's faint smile did not fade; if anything it grew wider. "And what will you do now, Sasuke? Now that you have become…that which you hated…now…that…you…have abandoned everything…and have no bonds…what…now?"
Sasuke did not reply verbally, and his impassive expression did not change, though his knuckles clenched white on the hilt of his kusanagi; almost as an afterthought, he gave it a sharp twist, some dark part of him glorying at how the blood welled up through Itachi's robe as he did so.
"Foolish little brother…still so weak…"
"Shut up! I've won."
"You…haven't won…anything…you've…merely proved…that you too…could…not…walk…the path…" He blinked slowly, and his eyes remained half-shut, as if it were too much effort to open them completely. "You…have failed…"
Crimson eyes flicked back up to meet hollow ebony ones, and Sasuke's lips curled in a malicious sneer. "I haven't failed…I haven't failed at all. No, I've finally achieved my goal, finally kept my oath." The smug expression on his face intensified as he gave the kusanagi another slight twist. "In just a short while, I'll finally be rid of you forever."
A tingle of revulsion shivered through the younger brother as he found his sneer, his smug expression mirrored on Itachi's face. "Oh, no, Sasuke…" Itachi chuckled and coughed, the scarlet rivulets already trickling from the corners of his mouth thickening and leaving streaks along his pale cheeks. "No…you will never…be rid…of me…for you see…you are me." The mist hovering in his eyes slowly grew thicker as the lids sunk down over them. "Although…" he breathed ever so softly, "…you are still…so…weak…"
Sasuke stared in fixed horror at the body before him. Suddenly he gritted his teeth and gave the kusanagi a violent twist; bone and muscle gave way with sickening snaps and crunches, accompanied by an increased flow of still-warm blood, but the other man did not respond.
Uchiha Itachi was dead.
With a disgusted grunt Sasuke wrenched his blade free, glaring at the corpse of the man who'd destroyed his life and haunted his nightmares for years. Fury still pounded hotly through him, and he almost gave into the urge to slash and stab at the senseless body before him; all that restrained him was the frustrated knowledge that it would not cause Itachi any pain, and such futile actions were less than worthless.
Bastard! he snarled inwardly, grinding his teeth in helpless rage. You bastard! I wish I could bring you back, and then kill you again! It wasn't fair that his anger and his hate hadn't been used up now that Itachi was gone. He needed to harness this energy, needed to use it somehow…
Then, abruptly, the rage and adrenaline and hatred slowly faded away…leaving only a strange emptiness.
Why? he wondered, dispassionately watching the blood dripping off the end of his sword. I've finally done it, I've finally avenged my clan…why do I feel so… Sasuke shook his head hard, carefully wiping his kusanagi clean before sliding it back into its sheath, steadfastly refusing to think about anything other than how fulfilled he should feel now that he'd accomplished his life's goal.
Yesss…you accomplissshed your goal…your wisssh has been fulfilled, Sssasssuke-kun… A chilling voice suddenly whispered in his head, and his eyes went wide as he felt Orochimaru stirring inside him once more, although…the snake sannin seemed different somehow, his thoughts more frayed and disjointed…
Now it isss time to give the Devil hisss due!
Sasuke suddenly found that he couldn't move; blackness was creeping around the edges of his vision, as if he was falling into some sort of bottomless pit, and try though he might to resist it, he was losing control of his body once again, reverting to his old, almost parasitic state of dispassionate observance.
Sssleep well, Sssasssuke-kun! I'll take good care of thisss body...very good care of it. And that meansss getting plenty of exercissse…We can't let sssuch wonderful power go to wassste now, can we? No, you are right, we mussst harnessssss it, we mussst ssshare it…with everyone…
In Sakura's opinion, Orochimaru had never been sane. Anyone who thought they could achieve immortality by moving from one body to another every few years, and who had no qualms whatsoever about destroying and/or supplanting the soul already contained therein had to be more than a little crazy (as in "not just screws, but entire pieces of machinery loose"). She had always looked on him with anger, disgust, and a hatred that was probably a great deal closer to jealousy than she would have cared to admit; after all, he had "stolen away her Sasuke-kun," something she was not inclined to forgive him for. His ruthless, entirely selfish attitude, his penchant for collecting young, often prepubescent boys, and his weird, permanent snake-tongue jutsu and all-around hideously serpentine appearance thoroughly "creeped her out"; and when she learned that his motivation for starting battles was oftentimes nothing more than the fact that he delighted in conflict and unrest, it only intensified her absolute conviction that the snake sannin was, as Naruto had put it on one occasion, "a whole LOTTA bricks short of a load."
And of course, when someone is already mentally unstable, it doesn't take much of a push to send them over the edge, as the next cluster of memories proved.
As Sasuke had suspected, Orochimaru seemed to be suffering some severe ill-effects from the jutsu Itachi had used on them, and while he'd always thought the snake sannin to be a little unstable, now it seemed that he had almost completely lost his mind…and considering how much of a loose cannon Orochimaru had been to begin with, that was a decidedly calamitous occurrence.
Mad with his power, he turned on his followers first, thoughtlessly destroying every last living being in the Village of Sound's current location before filling the tunnels with the roaring flames the Uchiha family was so famous for, and burning everything--corpse, machinery, and furnishings alike--into a fine ash.
After destroying two more of his tunnel-bases in a similar fashion, he turned his mind to juicier prey. The last two places had been disappointingly empty, and destruction was a lot more entertaining when there was an overabundance of people to watch and be killed.
Thus Orochimaru turned his newly-claimed crimson eyes towards the simple agricultural villages of the former Land of Rice Fields.
They had no warning and, simple farmers and businessmen that they were, they put up very little fight…though things wouldn't have gone very differently had they been fully-fledged shinobi villages. Orochimaru was methodical and merciless, killing everyone and everything in each village before setting it all ablaze, using Earth jutsus to destroy the stone houses that did not fall to the flames.
The snake sannin went on and on, seemingly tireless, relishing in the slaughter and the screams of pain and terror, thoroughly delighted with the devastation that he left in his wake…and Sasuke was forced to watch as his hands, his kusanagi, his ninja skills demolished these places…and every man, woman, and child in them.
Normally his will would have dissolved by that time, and Sasuke would have become a mindless non-being, a prisoner and unthinking spectator of whatever Orochimaru did in his body…but this was too much to be borne, too terrible and horrific and altogether so sickeningly familiar that Sasuke was shocked back into sudden self-awareness.
How ironic that the very occurrence that had haunted his dreams for years, that had caused him to awaken, alone, in his small apartment, gasping for air and begging for his life again, tears that he never allowed anyone else to see streaming freely down his face—how ironic it was that that was what saved him in the end.
NO! he thought in horror, feeling Orochimaru's deep sense of satisfaction as he surveyed the total destruction he'd surrounded himself with. This is wrong! This isn't right! This isn't what I wanted!
Orochimaru laughed chillingly, using Sasuke's voice (of course it was his voice, but this time Sasuke was aware enough to actually feel his throat vibrating with the noise, and shuddered in violent disgust), and started off once more; there was at least one more village that he knew of—
This isn't what I wanted, this isn't want I wanted, this isn't what I wanted! The desperate thought kept pounding frantically through Sasuke's head, and thus through Sakura's head as well.
Almost frantically Sasuke began to fight for control, though he was largely unsuccessful; Orochimaru had no intention of giving up this marvelous body that he'd waited for so long.
No! I won't—I won't become my brother!
After a long, drawn-out struggle, all the Uchiha had managed to do was force his body to move forward half a dozen steps and then stop. Forcing his head to turn to the right, he caught a glimpse of his scarlet-eyed reflection in a broken shop window.
A startling idea struck him, and the scarlet eyes widened momentarily, watching as he fought to fold his hands into the Sign of the Rooster. He breathed a mental sigh of relief, then forced those unwilling hands through a long, complicated series of seals, until finally they were folded once again in the Sign of the Rooster.
"Fūin Jutsu: Genryū Gaikoku no Hito Fūjin," he whispered through cracked lips.
Then he was tearing painfully through his own mind, slicing away the dark tendrils that he knew weren't his thoughts, his memories, his ideas or ideals or goals, throwing up walls behind him, pushing and shoving and forcing the ragged, wildly-struggling mind of the snake sannin farther and farther back, until at last there was nowhere left to go but out. Sasuke gathered himself for one final push, then with every last scrap of strength and willpower left in him, let loose, sending the warped, cowering form before him flying with a piercing shriek.
Stars exploded before his eyes, and with one final, agonizingly intense throb that felt as though it would split his head in two, Sasuke found himself fully in control of his body once again, and alone in his mind.
His vision swam, but he forced himself to open his eyes, unsure as to what he would find. Almost instantly his sight cleared, and he stared solemnly at what he saw before him: something that resembled a twisted, burned snake was writhing on the ground at his feet. Finish this, some distant part of his mind told him urgently, and with the last of his strength, Sasuke drew his parrying kunai and nearly fell forward onto it, stabbing it repeatedly, finally leaving it dead and motionless and pinned to the ground through the mangled remains of its head.
He stared down at it for a moment, then blinked in surprise. As he watched, the body crumbled away into dust and ash; then a gust of wind caught it and swept it away, scattering the remains and leaving not a trace.
Orochimaru was, at long last, truly gone.
But the damage had already been done; that was plain to see in the flicker of the flames burning through the leveled city.
My fault, Sasuke thought in shock as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, gazing numbly at the destruction surrounding him. This…is my fault. He stared down at his newly-reclaimed hands, at the dried blood crusting them, horror creeping through him. …Oh God, oh GOD, what have I DONE? I'm a murderer, I'm no better than he was! Eyes widened in a sudden, terrible recognition. No…I'm worse than he was…this is worse than anything Itachi ever did…I'm…oh God, I'm just like him…I'm exactly, exactly like HIM! It's just like he said, he was right--I AM him!
Choking back the bile that had risen in his throat, the last Uchiha turned and stumbled away from the still-burning remains of the village, his mind caught in a frantic whirl of dismay and self-loathing.
…That was why, when Tsunade asked him if Itachi was dead, Sasuke grimaced like that, Sakura realized in a sudden flash of insight as the memory shimmered into nothingness. In his pitifully twisted mind, he saw himself as Itachi, as a murderer…and because of that traumatic experience and Itachi's dying words, a part of him really believes that Itachi has "taken over" in his mind in much the same way that Orochimaru did…
That wasn't true, of course; Sakura would have known if Itachi was somehow possessing Sasuke's mind--she would've been able to feel his chakra the instant her own mind connected with Sasuke's.
He sees himself as no better than Itachi now. That must destroy him. No wonder he's insane. I have to find a way to change that belief…there must be a way! Clenching one ethereal fist in determination, she floated onwards.
The remaining memories she touched were blurry as well, indistinct in both images and the attached thoughts. Agonizing pains lanced through Sasuke's head every so often, reducing him to a howling mess shuddering on the forest floor, and during the periods of respite, his mind was in a strange, half-conscious state, as if he was wandering about in a dream. Regardless, he was running most of the time, moving at night to avoid chance meetings of any kind, and the sense of irrational fear and endless pursuit pounding through his brain kept him going. His physical wounds were healing—albeit slowly and not at all well due to his constant movement; his emotional and psychological wounds on the other hand were still raw, and showed no signs of healing: Sasuke's battle was with darkness, shadows, and memories now, and he was losing badly.
Then he truly was being pursued, or at least attacked: Sakura couldn't tell by whom most of the time, though she did catch a glimpse of an enemy's headband on two occasions: one bore the symbol of Iwagakure, the other of Kumogakure.
The Villages of Rock and Cloud. I wonder what they wanted with Sasuke?
Eyes wide in awe, Sakura watched the brief snatches of violent combat, each punctuated with anger, madness, and increased pain as new injuries were added and old wounds not yet healed were torn open once more.
But always Sasuke was the victor, and no matter how many had assaulted him, no matter how many times he fell senseless to the ground after defeating them all, always he stood again and went on.
Where he was going and why he bothered getting up was unknown; Sakura couldn't read any intension into his movements other than reflex or basic instinct, though she did get an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion and blank hopelessness.
She brushed against another memory, and found that this one was at night, in a vaguely familiar-looking clearing…
This is where we found him! she realized, then winced at the memory of pain that had saturated every inch of his body.
Sasuke took a few more stumbling steps forward; each one was agony, and his head spun wildly. He had let one of the Rock shinobi get in too close, and due to his weakness from to blood loss, malnutrition, and past injuries, the other nin had actually managed to grapple with him for a while. It had not ended well for either of them: Sasuke had come out of their tussle with a disjointed hip, some seriously cracked ribs, and another broken arm (the other had been broken a while ago…his memories of the event were too cloudy to remember exactly when)—bad, but not as bad as the other man, who hadn't come out of it at all.
The pulse throbbing in his ears was faint and unsteady, his breath came in short, uneven gasps, each one more painful than the last. He closed his eyes to the dizziness and forced himself onward, resolutely placing one foot before the other as he already had for well over a mile now. He was so tired…why couldn't they send someone with some actual skill up against him and just end this all? It was like they were toying with him, taunting him by showing him a means of escape from this dark, painful existence, and then snatching it away…
He didn't even seem to notice the blood spotting the ground behind him--an obvious trail for yet more hunter-nin to follow--but neither did he seem to notice the numerous kunai, shuriken, and senbon protruding from various parts of his body.
Sasuke suddenly came to a wavering, unsteady halt. He could feel himself drifting towards unconsciousness, but he had sensed something ahead: shinobi. They had masked their chakra, but he could still tell that they were there…and they were coming towards him. He doubted they could sense him; his chakra was almost totally depleted, and he was nearly dead as it was.
Regardless of this, he tried to enter a fighting stance. His mind was decidedly unclear, however, and unfortunately activating his Sharingan took up that last tiny bit of chakra he'd had left; an instant later, he found himself face down on the ground, coughing up blood.
Is this it? The thought fluttered wearily through his mind as he stared unseeingly down at the blood-splattered ground. Is this how the mighty Uchiha clan meets its end? Lying in my own blood, waiting helplessly for death to come? The idea seemed so very wrong, and yet he found that he had no strength left to alter it.
Slowly his eyes faded to black once more; the other shinobi were getting closer, he could feel it. There were two of them, and he could sense no killing intent, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, though at this point, he was beyond caring. Please let it be quick… Gradually his eyes drifted shut, his tattered mind slipping away into some place between awareness and insensibility.
Thus, he did not know how long it had been when he suddenly sensed someone crouching right beside him, someone cautiously turning him over onto his back. He was scarcely breathing now, so far gone that he couldn't even feel any pain any more, much less open his eyes.
"Sakura, get down here." The voice was soft and sounded very distant, like it was half-whispering down a tunnel, though it was also vaguely familiar.
Sakura.
The name suddenly registered, and a flash of surprise and uncertainty and something else (was this hope? he wondered absently) flickered through him. Before he could focus on that fact, however, he was drifting again, closer to unconsciousness and the dark, indistinct shadow that lingered just beyond it. Fraught with curiosity, he allowed himself to move closer to it, then abruptly found that his motion had halted completely; glancing down, he found himself enveloped by gleaming blue-green strands of a very well-known chakra. They wove themselves over and around and through him, pulling him back away from that dangerous edge, and for a moment he struggled against them, trying to break free and lunge towards the brink to hurl himself into the unknown. The strands proved too strong, however, and soon he gave up, allowing them to fill him with their healing energy, feeling as if his body was almost glowing with that pleasant warmth…
Sakura smiled at the odd memory--it must've been his imagination, a delusion brought on by his mental instability, but somehow it was filed away with the rest of his remembrances--and glanced about for more—
Suddenly everything went black.
Cautiously looking about her, Sakura found herself standing alone in darkness; but somehow, even though the darkness seemed to be complete, she could see…then she realized that she herself was glowing with a faintly pulsing light which seemed to be centered in her chest.
Before she could truly ponder this, however, her sensitive ears picked up the soft sound of crying coming from somewhere to her left. Curious, she made her way towards it, though she hadn't gone far when she stopped in her tracks, staring at what she now saw before her in surprise.
There, hunched into a ball of abject misery, was a small boy. He was hugging his knees tightly to his chest, and had his face pressed against his legs, concealing his expression, but his small shoulders shook with his sobs, and the style and hue of his spiky raven-black hair was unmistakable.
Looking at him more closely, she realized that he was almost totally covered in blood: it was splattered over both his clothes and his exposed skin, though she couldn't tell from where she stood if it was his own or someone else's. She noticed at length that he did seem to have some deep-looking wounds on his back and arms, and his clothes were in tatters, as if he'd been caught in a flurry of senbon or shuriken, though she could see no evidence of such weapons anywhere.
For a long moment Sakura just watched him cry, then slowly she drew closer, taking great care make her approach silent; soon she stood directly behind him, and he still hadn't looked up or given any other indication that he was aware of her presence. Smiling warmly, she bent down and laid a gentle hand on his head, smoothing the dark, disheveled locks. Her hand came away smeared with something warm and slightly sticky, but she paid it no mind and continued to stroke his jet-black hair.
The head beneath her hands suddenly twisted out from beneath her touch, and she found herself looking down into the wide, frightened eyes of an eight-year-old Uchiha Sasuke. He cringed back away from her, watching her with trepidation.
Who are you? How did you get here? Don't hurt me! He didn't speak, not aloud anyway, but somehow Sakura could still hear him.
I won't hurt you. I'm here to help you, she replied in the same inexplicably nonverbal manner, reaching out a hand towards him once more.
The boy just stared at it, then raised fearful, disbelieving eyes to hers. Why? Why would you help me?
Because, she inched forward until her hand rested on one small shoulder, I'm your friend.
I don't…I don't have--I don't need friends, the youthful version of Sasuke replied, turning his head and averting his eyes, an unconvincing gruffness forced into the words.
Yes, you do. And you want them.
No, I don't. They'll bother me, slow me down.
Sakura smiled slightly and ran her other hand through his dark hair, ignoring the matted blood and subsequent tangles in a rush of almost motherly affection. Her other hand lifted from his shoulder to softly brush against his cheek.
…You're lonely.
His head jerked back around, the dark eyes that met hers wide with shock.
You don't have to be lonely, she went on. You have friends who care for you, who accept you for who you are, and will love you regardless of what you've done. She gave him a warm smile. So please…please let me help you.
The child gazed at her, obviously wavering, then slowly nodded.
I can't do this all on my own, though, Sakura went on, her mind running through the final instructions concerning the Chisei Chikizuna no Jutsu:
Once contact has been made with the subject's psyche, the 'invading' mind must convince them to combine their chakras: this will supply the user with enough energy to accomplish their purpose inside the subject's mind, as well as enabling them to successfully return to their own body.
If the user fails to obtain the help of the subject, the jutsu will fail, and if they lack sufficient energy to return to their original body, they will be trapped in the subject's mind indefinitely.
Sakura swallowed hard. She was fairly certain that she didn't have enough chakra left to get out on her own; so much was dependant on Sasuke's assistance…
…Will you help me? she asked softly, pleadingly.
With a faint smile, Sasuke nodded again. Yes.
Dropping to one knee, she pulled him into a gentle embrace, not caring a bit that her face was buried in his blood-matted hair or that his wounds were likely staining her clothes. She smiled and pressed closed lips to the side of his head as she felt his own arms hesitantly wrap around her shoulders, then shut her eyes and concentrated, summoning up all the chakra she could and enveloping them both with the tingling blue flame-like projection of her life energy. The eight-year-old's injuries began to slowly fade away, and Sakura gasped slightly as she felt him opening himself to her, as he released his own chakra to meld and merge with hers. She was awash in the sudden, glorious surge of power that was being channeled into and through her, and it felt so warm and good and right that she had to resist the urge to laugh aloud from sheer joy.
Her eyes snapped open and she loosened her hold on the child a bit, checking him over: there was no sign that he'd ever been injured. Even his clothes seemed to have been mended by that soothing rush of energy.
Slowly the raging blue chakra-flames flickered down to a thin layer that encased them both like a second skin, and the child before her gradually opened his eyes as well. Coal black eyes that gleamed with peace and absolute trust and an unusual warmth met her own…and the most sincere smile that she'd ever seen formed on the lips of that eight-year-old version of Uchiha Sasuke.
Come on, Sakura told him, returning the smile as she rose to her feet once more. Let's get out of here.
Smile still in place, he nodded a third time before sliding his small hand into hers, his grasp firm and unwavering.
And together, hand in hand, they walked out of that dark place.
Returning was like breaking through the surface of a pool after being underwater too long; she gasped, eyes flying wide, fighting to draw in deep, shaky lungfuls of air through clenched teeth and a strangely constricted windpipe. The room spun and dipped oddly, but Sakura clung to the edges of the bed and forced her strangely tear-glazed eyes to focus. Finally she succeeded well enough to watch the last traces of the complicated blood seals spread around the room fading away into a misty steam, burned up by the stunningly powerful chakra that had been sizzling through them.
I'm lucky I got out when I did…I doubt those seals would've held much longer. I'm sure it was the strength of Sasuke's chakra that caused them to evaporate like that, and it was dangerous to use it, I know…but I also know I wouldn't've gotten out without his help.
Exhaustion threatened to overtake her, and her vision tilted wildly once again as she slowly raised her hands, finding that the symbols she'd cut there had been seared closed; the ones on her arms (and Sasuke's arms, too, for that matter) were still oozing, however, as if they'd been cut just seconds before.
Sasuke…
She was seated on the bed beside him, just as she had been before she'd attempted the jutsu, though now of course she'd removed her hands from his temples, and found herself leaning over him once more, one shaking, unsteady arm braced on either side of his still form.
Did…did it work? She couldn't tell; she'd had to remove all the medical equipment from the room in order for the jutsu to be performed correctly, so she had no way of knowing if the pattern of his brain waves had changed at all. His face was still relaxed and expressionless, though she thought his complexion looked a little better, a little less ashen.
Her eyes slid from his face down to his arms, and she stared blearily at the beaded blood lining the symbols she'd been required to cut onto him. Even though she knew it was a bad idea, she couldn't resist the urge to erase those blemishes from his smooth, otherwise flawless skin--she'd been the one to put them there after all, they were her fault--and before she knew it, her chakra-enveloped hands were hovering over his arms, and the scarlet kanji had melted back into unsullied ivory without a trace. Fighting back nausea and an intense feeling of weakness, she turned her attention to herself, removing the kanji from her own body as well; after all, it wouldn't do to leave any evidence of what she'd attempted. She wasn't supposed to have that scroll after all…
As the last strokes faded from her skin, Haruno Sakura slumped forward on the narrow hospital bed; consciousness left her so quickly that she only barely registered the fact that the top half of her body was draped across Sasuke's bare chest, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder.
Too bad, a distant part of her mind whispered, I would've enjoyed being awake for this…
"Sakura."
She felt herself slowly drifting back into consciousness, though she was still half-caught in her rather odd dream of floating on her back in a large, warm body of water and staring up at the cloudless blue sky. The water rose and fell gently beneath her, and she felt as if she were asleep on the chest of some giant creature.
…Asleep…on the chest of…
Her eyes snapped open, instantly meeting a very familiar pair of deep black ones, and she angled a shy smile up at him as she realized that she was still sprawled across Sasuke's chest, where she'd passed out from using up too much of her chakra…
"Sakura."
Her heart gave a funny sort of squeeze as he spoke her name--no, I'm over him, she reminded herself, shaking her head a bit--but to her chagrin, she found herself blushing as she looked up into his beautiful face. She never thought she'd be so happy to see that slight frown in her life; she'd always hated it when he frowned at her before, but none of that mattered now. He was alive! He was awake! And for the first time since they'd brought him here almost three months ago, he finally looked fully lucid. Her smile stretched wider as she stared up him, eyes shining. She'd done it! She'd brought him out of whatever madness he'd descended into, and now he was—
"Sakura…"
"Y-yes? What is it, Sasuke-kun?"
"…Get off me."
He was exactly like he'd been before.