Hey peeps, thanks for your patience. Ugh, this weekend was so hectic! I spent 19.5 hours in all driving (no exaggeration, though also thankfully not all at once), and was in a different state every day, starting Thursday and finally getting back home Sunday. I'm so tired...
beta: Icescim
The Philosophy of Self
Chapter Six
It had not been his intention to insult her, though that was obviously what he'd accomplished. The swift heat of her fury indicated that he'd picked at an old wound, moreover. 'Weak and stupid Leaf-nin.' She'd heard it before; likely from him—from Sasuke.
It hadn't been what he'd meant. It was merely… merely that he was frustrated. They had admitted that he'd been a nukenin, so they knew that he was threat. It was only because they held some fondness for Sasuke that he had not been summarily executed, he thought. Or perhaps they thought he knew some vital bit of information and were letting him live in comfort until he remembered it and, grateful of their kindness, told them what it was.
But that could easily backfire if he simply remembered his animosity for Konoha first. If he didn't feel grateful and instead took advantage of their gesture. And why would they take such a risk?
Not that any of this really mattered, since he was still quite sure that he was not Uchiha Sasuke. If they knew that, would they still be treating him like a diplomat rather than a traitor?
No. They believed that he was Sasuke. It showed in everything they did. The way they treated him, who they surrounded him with. The way Sakura had to censor herself to call him Uchiha-san rather than Sasuke.
Would it be better if he just gave in? If he just let them persuade him that he was Uchiha Sasuke? Would that really be so bad? He looked like Sasuke, his DNA matched… He knew enough of Sasuke to convincingly impersonate him. And any lapses could easily be blamed on lingering effects of amnesia.
It was disturbing, how easy it would be.
It would be so easy, and he was so weary…
With the way she had stormed out of the diplomatic building earlier, he didn't expect to see Sakura again that day. But she came sweeping in to drag him off to Ichiraku for dinner with Naruto.
Uzumaki Naruto. He remembered him. The Kyuubi jinchuuriki. Sasuke's Teammate. Sasuke's rival. Sasuke's almost-brother.
Naruto was wild, loud, enthusiastic, and almost overwhelmingly optimistic. Call him stubborn, call him foolish, but one must always recognize the power he held. And 'power,' here, did not refer to the Kyuubi no Youko. No, Naruto's most admirable talent lay in his ability to change people.
It was rare to find someone who could influence others as strongly as he did. It was even more rare to find someone whose first inclination when facing an enemy was to do so. But that described Naruto. He had an unshakable belief in others, and that utter faith in the good in all people forced those people to be good.
…And all that was going to be brought to bear on him, Uchiha. Because Naruto would not be able to believe that he'd failed again to save Sasuke. :More than anyone, Naruto will be insistent that I am Sasuke…:
He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He didn't know quite what he was feeling as he walked with Sakura down the streets of Konoha.
They walked largely in silence, each apparently consumed by their own thoughts.
It was Sakura who broke the silence.
"Do you worry," she asked quietly, eyes remaining fixed ahead, "that you will never remember who you were?"
He looked at her, not ever having expected such a question. Her step didn't falter, and she still didn't look at him. "Or, that you'll never remember completely who you were? That there will be pieces that are never recovered? That the confused and missing pieces will result in a you that isn't quite you?"
She took a breath. "Are you afraid that you'll lose who you were forever, and instead become someone else?"
He was silent a long moment, keeping pace beside her. Then, softly, he said: "You are shrewd, in your thinking, to ask that. To wonder."
She darted a shocked look at him, and quickly looked away again. But it wasn't the implied affirmative she was reacting to. Rather, he thought she was startled by the fact that he'd complemented her. He blinked; wondered, :Is it so strange to think that Sasuke would speak well of her?:
They were nearing Ichiraku, and Naruto was standing outside waiting for them. When he saw them, he waved energetically. "Ooooii! Hurry up! I'm starving!"
Sakura waved back, muttering: "I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate that he even waited for us." But she sped up a bit anyway. Naruto bounced in place as they approached.
"C'mon!" he burst out as soon as they were close enough. He ducked through the noren.
Uchiha caught the scent of rich broth and cooking meat, and his step faltered…
He sat between them at Ichiraku's narrow counter. The girl with her dark hair and ash-colored eyes. The tow-headed boy with green marks like claws on the backs of his hands. They were older than he was, his Teammates, but they treated him well enough.
"Well?" Sakura's voice broke through the memory. She quirked an eyebrow. "Shall we?"
She went through the noren, and he followed.
Ichiraku's was as he remembered—a small space, with kitchen and seating area cramped together, divided by a high counter. Everything was warm wood and warmer smells—the scent of miso was thick, and made his mouth water.
Naruto was seated already, chatting animatedly with the chef, whose face beneath his hachimakiwas tanned, and creased by years of smiles. Sakura sat down beside the Jinchuuriki, and Uchiha sat beside her.
He noticed the chef—Teuchi, memory whispered—noticing him, and thought that the man's cheerful demeanor became more deliberate. As if he was trying not to react to the fact that a criminal was sitting in his restaurant.
"So what'll it be?" Teuchi asked. Predictably, Naruto was the first to answer.
"One miso ramen with pork!"
Sakura was filling glasses with water from the pitcher that sat on the counter. "I'll have miso ramen with tofu." She slid a glass in front of each of her companions.
Teuchi looked to Uchiha, masterfully schooling his expression.
"Ah…" Uchiha said hesitantly. "Seafood ramen, please."
Teuchi bent himself to the task of filling their orders, and the three ninja sat. Naruto chatted a little with Teuchi, and Sakura dragged her finger absently through the dropslets of water left on the counter from her water glass. Uchiha looked around, remembering.
After a while, Naruto drank a gulp of water, looked at his companions, and sighed contentedly. "This is great! It's almost like the old days! Sasuke-teme, do you remember Team dinners here?"
He looked at them—the girl with her pink hair and leaf-green eyes. The boy with his golden spikes and marks like whiskers on his cheeks—hesitated, and then said simply: "Yes."
"It's Uchiha-san," hissed Sakura in an undertone to Naruto. Any response the blond—or even Uchiha—would have made was lost as Teuchi set their orders in front of them. Naruto's attention shifted to the steaming bowl before him, and he dug in with zeal, completely forgetting the discussion.
Sakura sighed, and turned to her own meal. Apparently, this wasn't so unusual of an occurrence. Uchiha amusedly watched Naruto inhale his ramen for a moment, and then broke apart his own chopsticks.
Ichiraku ramen was as good as he remembered—and he did remember it. Just enough salt, and a complexity of flavors that prompted one to really savor the first taste. They ate happily, some intermittent comments and conversations peppering the meal. Afterwards, Naruto bid them a cheerful farewell, and headed off toward his home in the opposite direction.
Sakura was apparently escorting Uchiha back to the diplomatic building, though he could sense his ubiquitous quartet of ANBU guards nearby. Maybe they just didn't want him getting any ideas.
As before, they walked in silence a ways. And, as before, Sakura was the one who broke the silence.
"Well," she said. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" And, before he replied, "I'm sorry he kept calling you Sasuke. I hope it didn't bother you too much."
"No. It didn't bother me," he said. She didn't look convinced.
"I apologize anyway. Naruto's just…"
"He's optimistic," he said quietly. "And he doesn't want to lose his friend."
Sakura blinked at him, seemingly somewhat surprised by his words. He wondered, uneasily, :That's twice in one day. Is my behavior really so different from Sasuke's?:
They fell back into silence.
The next interruption came when they were just passing a small wooded area.
"Uchiha Sasuke," said a voice.
He went still, not from surprise, but with the coiled stillness of readiness. He may have had his chakra sealed, but there were more ways to stop an enemy than with ninjutsu.
Beside him, Sakura went tense. A figure stepped out from behind a nearby tree. Sakura took one step to the side, neatly edging between the newcomer and Uchiha. She said, warningly: "Mitarashi-san."
Mitarashi Anko. A Tokubetsu Jounin who had once been apprentice to Orochimaru. To whom Sasuke had evidently defected. He remembered.
Anko ignored Sakura, staring over the younger kunoichi's shoulder at Uchiha. "So what are you? What did he make you into?"
He was silent. Her glare remained fixed on him, burning into him. She sneered: "You should have died then."
She took a step forward, and just like that, one of his ANBU guards appeared beside Sakura. Together they formed a wall between Anko and him.
"Mitarashi-san," Sakura said coolly. "The Uchiha will answer for his crimes. But he will do so lawfully, before the Council and the Hokage. Do you understand?"
Anko held his gaze between the shoulders of the ANBU and Sakura. "Was it worth it?" she demanded bitterly. "Was it?"
The ANBU stepped forward and took her arm in hand. He glanced toward Sakura and gave a minute nod of his masked head, and then he shunshin'd away, taking Anko with him. That left Sakura, Uchiha, and three still-hidden ANBU in the dark street. Sakura let out a low, slow sigh. There was a beat of silence.
"Sakura-san," Uchiha said quietly. She reluctantly looked at him. "What, exactly, are my crimes?"
She looked even more reluctant. "I don't know if—"
"Sakura-san," he interrupted steadily. "I think I deserve to know the crimes for which I apparently will be tried."
She held his gaze for a moment before looking down and away. "You're right," she said. "Fine. I'll tell you, but not here. Let's go back to the diplomatic building."