Erebus on the Cusp of Dawn
by Hic Iacet Mori
When someone you care for vanishes abruptly from your life, like the flame of a candle blown by a gust of winter chill, you silently wait for his shadow to appear around the corner—and you stand, just around it, waiting for his shadow, waiting for him to appear—and you wait, always, until you got used to the dark, until you got used to his absence—and then you see a flash of light, a flicker of shadow, a hint of his presence, and it vanishes once more and you feel it, keenly, the absence of light, the absence of shadow, the absence of him.
Her eyes had shot open and he knew it was over.
Sasuke watched her reach for a damned red pillow, knowing she would turn away from him once she had it in her grasp. He hated it, that pillow—she never touched him so willingly, never reached for him so urgently, never embraced him so lovingly. It didn't matter which pillow it was—it could be the one behind her head, in stark relief against the gilded silk of her hair; or it could be the one clutched to her heart, in marvelous contrast to the bronze sheen of her breasts—Sasuke hated it for the being her only accepted reality after their night together.
He could see her fingers, long and elegant, wrapping on the red satin. He could see her eyes falling half-mast as she began to turn away. He could see her slipping away from him once more, golden sands against his fingers, to return to her dreams.
Sasuke couldn't take it anymore.
"Why do you wear bandages?" he blurted out. Sasuke was surprised his question had come out in his usual nonchalant tone—he was afraid it would sound wavering, unsure, the way he was currently feeling. He had never dealt with her like this before and the uncertainty was making him anxious.
Sasuke realized that he was a bit frightened of how she would respond.
She paused, her body half-turned. Sasuke couldn't help but admire her graceful profile, loved by the webs of silver drifting from moonshine on her right. She didn't seem to be breathing, though—even when she moved, a heartbeat later, moving to shut herself from the world, from him.
"Is it comfortable?" he asked, grasping on straws, on words, to make her come back. He felt his heart thump hard in his chest when she moved once more, breathed once more—as if in her breathing, the world, him, breathed as well.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice flat. The red pillow lay in her arms, near her heart.
"Talking," he answered, condescending, as if speaking to a witless child. He needn't let her know how much his heart was beating against his throat.
"We talk a lot," she retorted. She pulled farther away from him, closer to the edge of the bed, as if distance from him could make him disappear. The red pillow followed, a shield against him.
Sasuke felt a deep stab of hurt.
"We never talk after this," he said quietly. He had meant it to sound cool, even indifferent, but the ache from her previous action resonated so deeply within him that it slipped through his voice. He was beginning to regret this, trying to reach her. He should have—
He should have gone on with their tacitly-agreed charade.
She turned to him, eyes piercing bolts of blue. "What the fuck are you going on about, Uchiha?" she asked coldly. Sasuke couldn't stop from flinching. There was such malice in her question, such darkness when she addressed him by his surname. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was ready to give up.
But she wasn't done.
"Whatever this you think we have is all in your head."
And he realized, so was he.
"Like whoever you imagine me to be when I fuck you, is that it?" he hissed, blind anger wanting only to hurt her as much as her words had hurt him. He felt no satisfaction at how her eyes dimmed, however, so suddenly devoid of its fiery light. No comfort at how all life and color had vanished from her face.
There was no triumph in hurting her.
She abruptly turned, her body curving around the red satin pillow—she didn't see Sasuke stuttering his apology, his voice stumbling on air as he tried to speak, tried to undo the past minute, tried to take everything back. But she couldn't see how shame suffocated the words he so desperately needed, for she herself, Sasuke knew, was suffocating in the bitterness of his ill-conceived words.
There are four things in life that are never recovered: the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity.
Sasuke would rather die than intentionally hurt her again.
Sasuke was ready with his apology when she came around at her usual hour.
Before he could say anything, she tilted her head to the right, as if assessing him, before shrugging and sauntering to her usual corner. She paused for a moment and he tried to seize it.
She stole it from him, though.
"It's easier to wash blood from."
His brows furrowed, wondering at the strange comment. Sasuke was about to ask what idiocy she was spouting again when his question from last night came back to him.
He didn't say anything. He didn't want to confirm if she was joking or not.
Sasuke skipped school today. Not that it really mattered—this was the first time in his life as a student that he missed a day at all. Besides, he already had enough perfect marks to compensate with this single absence. Surely his grades wouldn't suffer that much.
And even if they did, he really couldn't care less right now.
He stared at his wallpaper, still staring as his laptop showed his black screensaver—Sasuke found a styled screensaver virtually worthless, as he wasn't even supposed to be around to see it. He had enjoyed it, though, that one time he installed the Blue Screen of Death screensaver on each computer in one of the school's computer laboratories. It had been Itachi's prank on him.
Sasuke found himself smiling at the thought.
He started in surprise when a string of characters in bold and vibrant red font suddenly jumped from his screen.
"Procrastination is for cowards, foolish otouto."
He chuckled weakly. Evil nii-san, haunting him even in his laptop. He didn't even know that his brother had fooled around with his laptop again. The last time he did, Sasuke's screensaver had become a slideshow of his baby pictures.
Taking it as a sign—because he was neither a procrastinator nor a coward—he moved his optical mouse and waited for his desktop to appear once again. And then, before he could talk himself out of it, he clicked the video and waited anxiously as his video software opened.
He drew back in shock when the black abruptly receded and showed his brother sitting calmly across him. His throat tightened as a knot rapidly formed.
Oh hell no—
"Don't cry," his brother's monotone echoed in his room. Stunned into stillness and obedience, Sasuke didn't.
Itachi was sitting on a red cushion, and he dimly realized it was the divan in his brother's room. He wondered faintly when this was recorded.
"If you're watching this, then it means I have been dead for three months," his brother said. Sasuke flinched at the bluntness, at the lack of expression in the features so like his own—but then again, his brother was never one to mince his words or show what he felt. Itachi was almost cruel that way, though his purpose was simply to deliver truths and facts. It made the listener pay attention, however—pay deep attention using the mind and not the heart.
It was working on Sasuke, right now. And he was thankful.
"There are a lot of things I never told you," Itachi went on. Sasuke almost rolled his eyes at the understatement, scoffing despite himself. His brother rarely talked about himself, period, and he had been too preoccupied with gaining Itachi's approval to think about it. Sasuke had asked every time they met what was up with his brother, but always, upon hearing his answer—"It's not important"—he would readily dismiss it as well.
His brother ran a hand through his long dark hair, an action that immediately alerted him. Nervous gestures were practically non-existent in their physical vocabulary. Sasuke unconsciously braced himself.
"I am not the man you think I am, Otouto." Sasuke straightened up, his brows furrowing. "But first, I must tell you the truth of the death of our parents."
He blinked slowly. The truth?
Their parents, from what Itachi said, were victims of a robbery-turned-homicide. He was six at that time, his parents distant figures in his life—it was always his brother Sasuke relied upon and, in all honesty, their parents' death hadn't affected him that much. How could he grieve over virtual strangers? How could he when he was more concerned about his older brother with his shuttered dark eyes?
"Otou-san and okaa-san were murdered for bringing down the Oto underworld empire," Itachi said. His brows furrowed. Oto? Underworld? ... Empire? "Oto is home to one of the six most powerful criminal empires in the country, and they were murdered in retaliation before the Otokage himself was neutralized. Our parents were killed by the person they thought they could trust the most—our uncle, Uchiha Madara."
His head was beginning to reel. These all sounded too fantastic to be real. Underworld empires? Otokage? Neutralized? Their parents brought down an underworld empire in Oto? Oto, that boring village east of Kyoto? And their uncle?
What the fuck.
"We were supposed to go home early as Otou-san made dinner reservations to celebrate his promotion following the successful three-year Oto operation. Before we reached our street, however, a man in a long white coat grabbed your hand in what I assumed to be a kidnap attempt. I found you, three hours later, standing by the entrance of a visiting circus, calmly eating onigiri." His brother gave a half-smile as he thought back. A hazy blur of a kind face, gentle smile, and spiky blond hair rose up in his mind. "Had he not taken you," Itachi continued, "we would have gone home early and be killed as well.
"A man named Danzou contacted me with information on our parents' murderer, as Danzou himself is after him. Danzou is the leader of a secret police branch in Tokyo called Ne, specializing in organized crimes, criminal intelligence, and surveillance, their affairs beyond the expected boundaries of law. Its purpose is to bring down the criminal organization Akatsuki, which is led by Madara." His brother took a deep breath. "I offered myself as a spy, and six months of underworld work after six months of rigorous training in Ne earned me enough renown to be invited as the ninth member of Akatsuki." Sharp dark eyes bored into his, as if to stop the meltdown Sasuke was afraid he was going to have. "I killed a lot of people to get in, Otouto. All of them traitors. All of them family. I'm known as a kin-slayer."
He gasped. No. Itachi wouldn't—!
"Before I offered myself, however, I'm already an agent for ANBU, short for Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, a secret organization of selected police officers from different parts of Japan, though there are rare cases where civilians are invited and trained to be an agent, like me. ANBU knew that Danzou had approached me and they sent my superior, Hatake Kakashi, with the mission details. He is the student of the man who took you and saved our lives, a senior ANBU who works as a detective under Danzou, gathering evidence to take him out of commission for good. Danzou is, to put it mildly, a crooked cop, Otouto. ANBU has reasons to believe that he is in fact working with the Akatsuki, albeit in specific aspects, and I am assigned to search for his link with the Akatsuki."
Shit, his head was beginning to hurt. His brother offered himself to Danzou to spy on Akatsuki, and Itachi killed their relatives to be invited to this organization. But Itachi's an ANBU agent and they sent Hatake Kakashi to make him spy on both Danzou and Akatsuki to find the missing link so ANBU could take out Danzou, who was a crooked cop.
Sasuke rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming. Why the hell did his brother get himself tangled in this mess?
"However, recent developments hinted that I may have been compromised," he went on. The calm tone of his brother helped him pull out of his tumultuous thoughts. "Once I'm taken care of, Madara, and even Danzou, are free to come after you as both men despise our family. As such, I leave you in the hands of my partner. You may have known her already—she had been spying on you since she and I met, and I assume that this time she will reveal herself to you. She has wanted to know you for a long time."
Her. His brother was talking about her.
His eyes widened. She had been spying on him longer?
"Oi, loser, what're you doin' out here so late? You think this is a nice place like those in your fairytale books? Way's there, broken-compass-for-brains. Or do you want me to teach you how to read a map, bibiri-kun?"
"Tch. Get lost, moron."
His mouth dropped open. That girl in the shadows, that time he got lost! It was three years ago, when he and Itachi first moved to Konoha from Tokyo, and Sasuke had gotten lost coming home from school—it had been nightfall when he stumbled into an alley and he was getting worried, and she suddenly spoke up, out of nowhere, insulting him while giving him directions. Sasuke had never gotten lost ever again and it was thanks to her.
He blinked as another thought came over him. No wonder—No wonder he had accepted her so easily, adapted to her presence so quickly. Because even though he didn't know her, in some way, a part of him did.
"I know of only one person they would order to kill me. Only Kyuubi can match me," Itachi mused, as if he was merely choosing an ice cream flavor. It was so casual it brought a cold chill on Sasuke. His brother smiled, though, the dear dark eyes warming him instantly, the smile warm as the sunset they used to enjoy together. "Whatever happens, do not avenge me. I taught you better than that, Otouto. Never let anyone's blood touch your hands. Never let your emotions control you. And never let yourself rise at the cost of someone else's downfall.
"Lastly, never be afraid to move on. We can only move forward, Otouto. That is the only way to live."
He wasn't aware of the tears that had begun to fall down his cheeks.
"Now if you're watching this, it means Kakashi had done his job. Once this video stops, it will delete itself for your security. Another package will arrive in a few days and I want you to use it well once you have achieved your goal to be a detective." His smile softened. "I hope I can help you become the man you are meant to be, but I am confident that you can do so even without me. I may not say this often, but I love you, my precious otouto." Itachi leaned forward, two fingers extended, and Sasuke leaned closer until his forehead touched the screen. His brother's eyes swam before him—always kind, always loving.
Those eyes had always spoken to him and this was the last time they would again.
"Later, Sasuke," Itachi said—Nii-san, my Nii-san, I never said I love you, You never knew, I love you—eyes squinting shut with his smile. "There will be a next time."
A great sob tore itself out of his chest.
Sasuke was losing his brother all over again.
"And Sasuke?" Uchiha Itachi called for the last time. The dark eyes opened to reveal their hidden smile.
"I know."
The screen went blank.
When he went to his brother's room, her room, that midnight, Sasuke lay down behind her and his forehead dropped on her hair. He didn't say anything when she woke up from her nightmare, and she didn't say anything when hot liquid glided down her nape. It was enough that she allowed him to pull her into his arms and be the anchor of his world.
The folder was named Videos.
It bothered Sasuke, enough for him to stay awake long after she had left. The skies outside were still dark and he suddenly remembered it was November, that she was only wearing her customary orange and black sweat suit, that the air was chilly at this hour, that she was loitering at an ungodly hour with no hope of protection from unsavory characters and unruly elements. He swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat, ignoring the clamor in his head that he should run after her, that he should have stopped her, that he should be with her right here, right now, in a warm bed with her in his arms, sleeping the sleep of a person with no care in the world. But she wasn't here—she never stayed, she always left at the same hour, and he wasn't important enough to stop her.
He wasn't important enough.
He abruptly stood up, making his way to his own room. He didn't want to think about it, about them, about what they did in Itachi's room—fuck, they were doing it in his brother's room!—but he had gone long enough without thinking of their situation and acting on feelings and desires alone. How could he let this... this thing they have come into this? It was he who started it, and though he knew it takes two to tango, he was clearly at fault as he was the one who insisted on watching her before diving in to help her.
Lately, he knew, she woke up as soon as he touched her. She never stopped him, true, but she never touched him either. Unless it was to guide him, like the first couple of times—
He sat down, shifting, as his face flamed up at the twitching between his thighs. Damn it, he was thinking with his dick again!
He shook his head as his laptop booted, his lips pulling into a frown. She never really did touch him back. Just as she never looked back at him, never kissed him. Never allowed him to kiss her on the lips like he had been yearning to do.
His eyes closed. Did she feel anything, anything at all? About what they've been doing? But what were they doing? Sex? It was too clinical for what they do. Fucking? It was too crude for that, and the sting of that word reminded him of that night. Making love?
His chest tightened.
No. It wasn't that either.
He wanted so much to know what she thought of what they're doing. Because to him—to him—
To him, it was special.
He raised the heel of his palm to his eyes, snorting at his bloody cheesy thoughts. Hell, when did he turn into such a girl? Was this what feelings did to you, ruin you in the most humiliatingly possible way? Because he didn't care, and if it would give him another second in her arms, a second to pretend he was all in her world as she was in his—and when did that happen, when did it become true?—he would choose to be humiliated for as long as he lived.
Had Itachi ever felt this? These bittersweet feelings, these poignant thoughts? Had he ever felt this sensation of falling into darkness as he fought for the hint of light he had seen from solid ground? Had he lost his head over someone before?
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He hated his runny nose right now.
Did you ever feel so hopeless, and confused, and scared and content and fucked up at the same time, Nii-san?
His unseeing eyes stared past the empty folder.
If you were here, what would you do?
He sniffed.
I'm afraid, Nii-san. I don't understand what I feel right now. Why it hurts me to look at her... why it makes me happy when she falls asleep beside me...
He covered his eyes with his hand.
... why I would do anything to see her look into my eyes, with a true smile on her lips...
The world was getting dark.
Only for me...
His eyes drifted shut, his mind dreaming of yellow teas and green sunsets and sky blue smiles.
It is dark once again and you feel empty once again, and you lose him, so suddenly, all over again.