Erebus on the Cusp of Dawn

by Hic Iacet Mori

It is hunger, the most basic of man's need, that drives him to do what he does. Whether for food, for water, for knowledge, for love, man's hunger is unending and a force to reckon with. To a man in its painful clutches, there is no good or evil—there is only hunger, and food; thirst, and water; wanting, and knowledge; needing, and love; and the distance he must cross to fulfill his duty to himself—until he is content, until he is happy, until the sun breaks through the blue skies heralding another day.

Sasuke woke up gasping for air.

"Maa, maa."

A gloved hand rubbed on his chest, a tangible thread of light attempting to impinge the dark void. He reached blindly for that unseen vision called hope, seeking with the hands of one who had none—he was drowning, drowning in red snow, choking on blue blood forced viciously down his throat. He was drowning and choking, shaking so hard, so much, and it was all just a damned dream and he wanted to fucking cry in relief.

A damned dream, just a dream.

"Here, drink this."

Sasuke automatically accepted, his mind still in the mire of his own creation as his body acted on someone else's will. A glass of water landed on his parched lips, a sudden cold kiss stolen without thought. His hand, as if weary from the weight of half-emptiness and half-fullness and the line trying to discern between the two and failing, tilted fully and water—viscous, metallic, melted steel white laces and bright orange blood on black red snow—shot down his throat with the rage of the Furies on a treacherous mortal, swift and cold and unforgiving.

He choked, panic clawing in his mind, a wild hound tearing through his sanity—no, it's happening again, I'm drowning, help me!—and he sputtered, coughing at a sudden weight settling heavily on his back, pulling him back to the dismal gray shores of reality. His coughing lessened, Sasuke drank the remaining water slowly, fearfully, disconcerted still at the disturbing flights of his thoughts—idiot, you're paranoid—before landing anticlimactically on a glass-spun world, his mouth grimacing at the aftertaste.

"You threw up," the same voice drawled. He was glad for the consistency. He needed it now. "Everything's bound to taste like vomit if you don't wash your mouth."

It was then that Sasuke became aware of his surroundings. He looked down—he was lying on an ordinary single bed, creased white blanket over his lap and a white pillow behind him. His eyes traveled around, noting the bareness of the room, the absence of personal effects and personality. The room was a dull off-white, not blinding but not comforting, simply existing as a tablet for future colors to conceal its sorry existence. A lone door in brown stood as a welcome break to the monotony, the first shot of earth from the infinity of weightless clouds, planting him firmly on terra firma until he could rest, until he could extol the virtues of flying once more.

Until one day he learned that the higher he flies, the harder he falls.

Unsteady dark eyes landed on his right. A man was sitting on the chair next to the bed he reclined upon, an orange pocketbook held by a steady hand. He couldn't see the cover. Something within him whispered that ignorance is bliss.

Hatake Kakashi, his mind supplied. Sasuke took note of some useless information, piecing a puzzle in his mind in his bid to walk further down the shore. A silver gray strand askew, hovering over the gray eye. Black turtleneck in pure cotton, sleeves rolled up an inch above his elbows, blending with a mask that persisted in covering the lower half of a face. Legs crossed in careless disregard, a temporary desk for the pocketbook in a pale hand, a dark green flak jacket its tablecloth. An uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, above which sat a man with the air of ease and comfort.

Hatake Kakashi.

He suddenly sensed the mismatched eyes observing him. Sasuke drew an inch back. He felt defensive. What the hell was this man doing here? And where was he, exactly? What happened?

"I found you outside the Uchiha cemetery," the ANBU said, answering his unvoiced question. The eyes had a steel edge, one an unpolished flint, the other unclean blood. He decided he liked their grim colors. Reality's eyes."You passed out on your vomit."

Cemetery.

... Underworld?

React. Don't think.

Sasuke frowned, disgusted, and sniffed at his shirt, waiting for the noxious assault. He didn't smell anything, though, until he looked down and realized the shirt was unfamiliar. He had no red shirts. Too bright for his taste.

He wasn't bright enough for red.

"I'll send the laundry bill tomorrow," Kakashi said off-handedly and then he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "What happened?"

"Run."

Everything rushed back with clarity so sickening it knocked the breath out of his lungs, his stomach churning with the violence of a psychopath out for blood. Sasuke clambered to his side, flailing in the thick murky waters of his mind, and threw up—throwing up bile, blood, perhaps his stomach, his heart, anything within that was tearing him apart, tearing him to unrecognizable pieces. Tears stung his eyes at the raw ache in his throat, at the cold burning knot in his stomach, at the memories of the night he wished to forget repeating over and over and over in his head. There was no comfort, no relief. It wasn't a dream. He was still drowning.

Styx.

The river of unbreakable oath. The river of hate. One hates people who break their promises. The more a thing is loved, the more it is hated.

"Run."

His heart hurt, so much. It was so tempting, this lurid vision, of knifing himself in the chest and reaching inside, elbow-deep in his own blood, red and warm, crushing his beating heart with his own bare hand. The promised relief from this white-hot pain was staggering, dazzling.

Elysium.

Sasuke threw up again.

The ANBU merely stared at him, ignoring the vomit now decorating his dark pants. Sasuke was too caught up in the tangled web of his emotions to notice this consideration.

"I take it you're not ready," Kakashi said in a mild voice. Sasuke stared at him uncomprehendingly, his thoughts stuck in the cemetery with its first taste of snow, his mind flashing images of her in the shadows, red ribbon on his eyes, hot hands on his body, voice low and dark shaping words to stab and break and condemn a mother's son to hell. Her eyes, her smile, they ran through his mind, broken records churning shrieking melodies in repeat, jumping to the ending and hopping to the beginning, sinking in the middle and returning to torment on a part it so desired.

A chorus of screams of the wicked. The dead. Unrepentant, relentless.

Tartarus.

Sasuke longed to cover his ears but he knew the voices were in his head. Silence would always be beyond his reach, a fruit as near as illusion and as far as truth.

And suddenly the whiteness of the room was suffocating. Sasuke could see blood dripping down the walls, cascades of crimson pooling on the floor, on the chair, on his bed, climbing up to wrap around him, vines of false warmth winding around his flesh. His brother's blood. Hers. The blood on his cheek. On his hand.

A crushed wing of a white butterfly floating on a shiny red pool.

He could vaguely hear screams. His heart ached for the raw pain he could hear, of someone burned alive, skin curling, crisped, the devil's food. It ached. No one should have to create a sound like that, a unison of perfect fear and perfect grief, shrieks of pure hysteria and pure rage against the pauses of keen despair. All the songbirds of the world in one burst of note, a cacophony wrought of a thought that all that is beautiful must be together. They are always so beautiful, emotions. Even those that cause extreme pain. Something so ugly can only be beautiful.

Furies.

Only things of beauty could hurt.

Does it please you when you listen to their screams?

Beautiful screams. They hurt so much to hear. So ugly, so pained.

Or does it pain you because it's beautiful?

His head flew back, a rubber band stretched taut and abruptly released. Dark eyes blinked. He was on the shore. Gray. Hadn't he walked far already?

"Sasuke," Kakashi said in a tight voice. The screaming had stopped. Sasuke felt pain blossom on his cheek. Does it hurt the earth when roses bloom?

Don't think.

"Snap out of it."

Wild dark eyes blinked anew as comprehension slowly dawned in its depths. He looked down, rapidly blinking away the miasma of thoughts, waking up finally far from the shore, his hair covering his eyes, his fists curling on his lap. He needed to focus.

"Can't you do anything right?"

His head shot up.

"It's as simple—"

Fear, oppressive and dry, strangled his heart.

"—as this."

It overrode fury, hate, confusion, the feelings of loss and betrayal.

"Now, Sasuke..."

He had hurt her. Hurt her after vowing to himself that he wouldn't. And she was probably still in the cemetery bleeding on the grass and the snow, her blood seeping through the cracks of the earth to water the resting seeds, her lips parted as she gasped for air, for life. He had hurt her.

Suddenly he didn't care and he cared for her again. Treacherous heart. How was he supposed to live without her when he kept coming back? How was he supposed to deliver justice for him, his family? How was he supposed to do what he realized he must do?

But he had hurt her. He hurt her.

"Run."

He was supposed to be her air. He was supposed to teach her to breathe only through him.

"Where is she?" Sasuke asked, his own voice unfamiliar to his ears. The mismatched eyes were unreadable, but perhaps it had more to do with his own flaring emotions that he couldn't understand the story in those eyes. He was sifting through the confused tangle of his own that he couldn't read the stories in anyone else.

His story. Hers.

Ours.

At the corners of his mind, he hated her. Hated so much how he loved her, still loved her, how his heart still beat for her despite the ultimate betrayal she had delivered with a smile. Sasuke wanted to stop but he would die if his heart stopped beating.

And he couldn't die. Not yet.

He still needed her to need him.

"She's in a holding cell," Kakashi replied after a long tense silence. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding. The answer meant she was alive.

Alive for him to extract a proper vengeance from.

"How is she?"

So why couldn't he stop his wayward tongue?

"You shot her between the ribs," Kakashi replied. The man leaned forward, an elbow on his knee and a palm cupping his chin. "You tell me."

Sasuke could feel blood dripping down his cheek. It was warm. Like red tears.

He hurt her and it hurt so much.

"I didn't want to," he choked out. He rubbed his cheek, his hand shaking. Warm, too warm, he had to wipe it clean, it's sticking to his skull. "I didn't want to but she forced me."

Kakashi's voice was kind—or was it only kind because it had stolen his attention, even for a fraction?—as he took hold of Sasuke's hand and slowly put it down. "Tell me how."

He swallowed. Cool snow glided down his throat. He sought for a calm spot in his mind, a paradise of white unmarred by colors, by red—he needed to put himself together, ignore the speckles of gold in the shadows. Breaking apart could come later.

But he could taste her, still. Metallic. Or was the scent so sharp he imagined he did?

"She's Kyuubi," he replied in a low whisper. His throat was sore from retching, from screaming. He swallowed once more. Snow. Blood. "She told me how she—how she k-killed Nii-san." He heard a deep intake of breath. The last breath before the jump. "Then she told me to shoot her.

"She... She made me."

Pull yourself together. Snow on the ground. Blood in the veins. They're where they're meant to be, not together, never together. Blood on snow is obscene. Like a funeral decked in red, or a birthday feted in white. Never meant to cross.

Pull yourself together.

"She's Kyuubi," he repeated dully. Dull was good. No emotions behind. Facts delivered weren't meant to be soaked in feelings. Even a hint was traitorous. "She's Kyuubi and she's working with Madara all along." His lifeless eyes stared into a mismatched pair. Simple. Everything must be made simple. No shades of gray. No lines of red. Just black and white. Colors obliterate.

"She's a murderer."

Sasuke lay back on the bed in the wake of his words. It hurt to care. He didn't want to hurt anymore.

Black couldn't hurt him. White wouldn't dare.

"Ever heard of the Jinchuuriki?" Kakashi asked, breaking the cold silence. He was staring at the ceiling. White. Not a pure white, but white still. White wouldn't dare.

"A formal introduction is needed."

Cracks on the ceiling. Typical.

"Kyuubi, this is Uchiha Sasuke, son of my late younger brother Fugaku."

Sasuke began counting. The lines of black on white. Black couldn't hurt him.

"Sasuke-kun, this is Kyuubi no Youko of the Jinchuuriki."

"It's rare for people to hear of the Jinchuuriki," Kakashi went on. Don't listen, don't listen. "Those who have thought it's a myth. How is it possible, after all, for nine individuals to have a run of the five great underworld empires of Japan?" Kakashi chuckled. There wasn't humor in it. How did you know? You're listening, aren't you? "It was inconceivable. No one could be that powerful. No one is supposed to be."

Nine cracks. Huh.

"Kyuubi no Youko is a Jinchuuriki."

"I believe you know her as Uzumaki Naruto?"

He paused at his recount.

Don't think, damned idiot.

"Konoha is the most powerful of what is called the Five Great Secrets and Kyuubi controls its underworld." Stupid name. Secrets? What are they, girlie clubs? "It goes without saying that everything I say in this room remains here," Kakashi warned needlessly, almost as an afterthought. He shouldn't have, Sasuke thought. He wasn't listening anyway.

Tch. Conspiracies. Not worth listening to. Count the cracks. One. Two. Three—

"The Five Great Secrets control the country from the shadows, have been doing so since the era of the shogun. The one who controls any of the Great Secrets has a great measure of power over the country." Kakashi adjusted his position, leaning lazily on the uncomfortable chair with legs stretched before him. How did you know, were you looking? Count. "Since the Meiji Restoration, powerful people have been fighting over the control of the Five Great Secrets, done through secret wars in the quiet villages of Konoha, Suna, Kumo, Iwa, and Kiri, the actual reason for the name itself. No one would imagine an insignificant village to be a seat of power, na?"

Fairy tales. Why did you stop counting? Four. Five. Six—

"The ruler of a Great Secret controls a portion of Japan from any of these villages. Konoha controls Tokyo and the Prime Minister himself is under its ruler's direct command. Kyoto is also under Konoha, which Orochimaru seized once before it was recaptured. He called himself the Otokage. Not many were happy about it."

Otokage. Damn, why repeat the word? And you're not counting!

"Through the years, the Great Secrets have been split into two, their powers separated between the Kage and the Underworld. Some years the Kage won, other years the Underworld ruled. After the Second World War, both factions have come to tolerate each other with the silent understanding that the Kage rules by day and the Underworld rules by night. Law enforcement falls strictly on the Kage, though, and it became a game on which group catches which more member to convert to their side. By the end of the 20th century, the Underworld had relinquished control of Japan, opting to focus on dealing with other countries instead. Total control fell on the Kage, and it was then that the five Kage formed the ANBU as a secret network of police officers."

Kakashi leveled him an intense stare. Oops. He was caught not listening. Wait, he was caught listening. Damn. "You probably noticed there are no police officers in Konoha. In a Great Secret, the existence of a Kage is enough protection during the day. There is zero crime in the villages and anyone who dared to break a law is swiftly punished. The word of the Kage is law." The ANBU gave an odd smile. "None of the villagers have seen the Kage, though. Or even the Underworld ruler, for that matter. No one knows their identity except for a select few. Someone just spreads the news of a new Kage, or a new law, and it's enough. But it's different at night. At night, the Underworld rules. It's the Kage's only concession. The ANBU, however, keeps watch and interferes when directed by any of the Kage or the ANBU Commander."

"Bad things tend to happen at night, y'know."

"Years ago, something happened."

You're not supposed to be remembering.

"A new Hokage was appointed and he immediately got on the wrong side of the Konoha underworld ruler. They couldn't co-exist and the Five Great Secrets was in danger of another secret war. The Yondaime Hokage was too upright and Kyuubi, the ruler famed for her weapon of choice, the cat o'nine tails, was too stubborn and proud. They fought constantly."

Kakashi's eyes suddenly curved into crescents. It was a change so abrupt that Sasuke found himself staring dumbly. "They had a child. Turns out that in the course of fighting, Namikaze Minato, the Hokage, and Uzumaki Kushina, Kyuubi, had fallen in love. Only the ANBU Commander and the other Kage knew of this."

You fight those you love. Shut up. Not true.

"The two factions weren't supposed to be intimately involved with each other. It's tantamount to treachery and if any of the factions get wind of it, they will be punished with death. Whichever side captures them first."

"So when the time's right, come after me, 'kay? Not to say you'd have an easy time of it. Just work hard then catch me."

"I only knew because the Yondaime is my mentor."

You're not supposed to be remembering.

His eyes turned somber once again. "Kushina-san kept her child a secret. It's dangerous for her, anyone could take advantage of her pregnancy. She relied on her best friend during this time, and when her daughter Naruto was born, Kushina-san continued running the underworld the same way she had, except the ANBU knew more of their activities than before. The villagers thought the Yondaime was very efficient. No one suspected a thing."

Sasuke had unconsciously straightened up. He could feel it. His heart, beating again, stronger and louder in his chest.

Naruto.

Naruto.

Naruto.

"Then Orochimaru and the Akatsuki happened. And then, the formation of the Jinchuuriki. The Jinchuuriki became the rulers of the underworld of the Five Great Secrets, Naruto being one of them. Rumors of how she made entire villages disappear overnight along with her sadistic tendencies proliferated. She only had one challenger, a death row escapee moonlighting as a hired assassin." A grim smile. "He disappeared, never seen since. She remains unchallenged to this day. With the support of the rest of the Jinchuuriki, taking her down is waging a war against the underworld of the Five Great Secrets."

Don't think, just count. Back to one. One Naruto. Two Na—No, cracks. One crack. Two cracks—

"Akatsuki is an organization of mercenaries lead by Uchiha Madara, your uncle, all wanted in different countries." Kakashi paused and continued, his words deliberate. "He approached the Jinchuuriki three years ago and they've been working together since."

He didn't really give a damn.

"Madara, an Uchiha, knew of the existence of the Kage and the Five Great Secrets. The Uchiha clan had always been ambitious but Madara took it to an entirely different level. He wanted to bring down the Great Secrets and unify all of Japan under his own control, and that is just the beginning. He needed the help of the Jinchuuriki of the Underworld, historical rivals of the Kage, to achieve his goal."

I don't care.

"What do you know about your brother's mission?" Kakashi suddenly asked.

"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."

Sasuke stared at the ANBU, not even having the will to glare. He felt empty. A drained glass. No quench for thirst in sight. "He's a spy," he replied. Cotton had invaded his mouth. He wanted water. Blue water, preferably. Like distant eyes. "Spying on Danzou, on Akatsuki, under the orders of your group." The cotton was so annoying. It wasn't even wet. "You killed him too," he added.

"He was compromised," Kakashi said, sounding almost sympathetic. Why? Had he been compromised before? "An Akatsuki was sent to track his movements. Madara himself began analyzing your brother's past mission reports and records, then he convened with the Jinchuuriki and the rest of Akatsuki without your brother's knowledge." Kakashi sighed, weary. Why? Was he thirsty too? "Another Akatsuki provided damning evidence that Itachi was a double agent for Danzou. Madara realized that Itachi knew who he really was and he gave an order to liquidate to Naruto, Itachi's Jinchuuriki partner."

He flinched at the name. Which name didn't matter. They both hurt.

He wanted to drink.

You can count the drops of water you want to drink.

"Because Itachi is dead—" Sasuke flinched again, Kakashi studiously ignoring it, "—you're free for the taking."

What did that mean?

You're not supposed to be listening!

"Madara is out for your blood," Kakashi said. "Your father took down Oto, his friend Orochimaru's stronghold. He himself had claims on Oto but he had pulled out just in time to elude arrest. Even before that, your father had been waging a silent war against your uncle over the corruption that had taken over the Uchiha clan because of him. Madara was more than happy when a man paid him to kill your family." Kakashi stared at the impassive young man. "It was Danzou.

"Danzou is also after you," he continued, his stance suddenly tired. He figured it was tiring, spinning yarns at a swift rate. Sasuke ignored the soft voice that said everything was true. "He wants all Uchiha exterminated and he had your brother do it for him. He couldn't touch you, though. Madara couldn't either. If something happens to you, Itachi would know that Danzou had failed in keeping his side of the bargain, which was to give you protection. Madara, meanwhile, didn't want Itachi to suspect the possibility that he was alive. Itachi knew about the rift between your father and him, and if Itachi realized that Madara is alive, he would put two and two together and come after him.

"With your brother gone, it's only a matter of time before one of them catches you." Kakashi turned away. He would have turned away too. "And one of them did."

Things were a bit clearer, at least, but he wasn't thankful. Not the least bit. He wasn't supposed to be listening but he had been deluding himself the entire time.

"If you knew all about this," Sasuke said slowly, "then why the hell did you let everything reach this point?"

"We couldn't compromise the operation," Kakashi replied. From where he sat, the ANBU didn't look too proud with himself. "Three years of work will go down the drain, not to mention that a lot more people will be compromised."

"But my brother was already compromised," he hissed, an angry red flaring within his eyes. "Three years and all you managed to do," his teeth gritted, "is kill my brother?"

Kakashi closed his eyes, sighing. He braced himself. There was something in the heavy weight in those mismatched eyes.

"Sasuke. It's his choice."

He sprang up, clutching the collar of the ANBU's shirt as he hovered over the man with a dangerous expression, all the blood pulled out of his face in fury. "Don't fuck with me, Hatake. Nii-san is not an idiot to throw away his life just like that."

Kakashi looked back at wild eyes glowing crimson in rage. He put a hand in his pocket and took out a small object, raising it before Sasuke's eyes. "This," he started, "is a microchip. Forensics found this inside your brother's stomach."

His eyes couldn't even show his shock. His grip loosened, though.

I should've just counted. It's not too late.

"He knew we would find his body," Kakashi said, almost gentle. Sasuke didn't want gentle. Not from him. Only from—Only from—

"He planned to die so he could give this directly to us."

His head hung down.

"It was encrypted and incomplete. It requires another microchip to reveal all its content." Kakashi raised his hands and pulled down the white hand on his turtleneck collar. "The other half was found just three days ago. As we speak, all records of the Akatsuki—blueprints, plans, operations, clients, victims, profiles, connections—are being decrypted. Upon signal, the ANBU will attack."

"He died," Sasuke murmured, "to give a microchip?"

Kakashi shook his head. "He died to bring down Danzou and the Akatsuki," he said. "He died to protect his precious people."

"But he didn't just die," Sasuke suddenly growled. He could hear it again, the voices. It sounded like hers. His hands fisted until they were a bloodless white. "He was tortured! She tortured him!" He was now screaming but he didn't care. He wanted to explode. It sounded so wonderful. "He died begging! Begging the girl he loved and thought loved him back! Do you have any idea how—how—" he covered his eyes with his hand—it hurt to hear, hurt to see, "—how painful, that is?" he ended in a raw whisper.

"Kyuubi?" Kakashi asked. The clear disbelief in his voice earned him a vicious red glare. The ANBU shook his head, expression perplexing as he spoke slowly. "Forensics found massive traces of procaine and minute traces of nitrous oxide in his blood. Anaesthetics," he explained. "He was clearly tortured for a couple of hours but he was too numb to feel anything. Cyanide found in his body ended his life."

The images they brought to mind so sickened him that Sasuke threw up again. He didn't make it to the side this time, though, and he grimaced at the rancid wetness seeping on the blanket—he had just thrown up water, his stomach empty of food, and it was disgustingly pathetic when he was so thirsty. A glass of water thankfully appeared before him and Sasuke grabbed it, a mendicant touching his first coin. After drinking, he pushed the blanket away from him. His mind analyzed the words he just heard.

"I tortured him until he was begging."

If Itachi couldn't feel pain, he wouldn't be begging.

"Begging for me to end his pathetic life."

... But who would inject him with procaine, made him breathe in the nitrous oxide? Was it her?

"And his eyes! How they clouded with pleasure, pain—and hate too!—because he loves me so fucking much and he could only beg for me to stop—"

The bigger question was, why would she say the words she said?

"How do you expect to protect people when you can't even shoot your brother's murderer?

Why would she lie?

"I'll give you a headstart with one shot just as I did with him."

Why would she say those lies, knowing he would hate he—

"Do you plan to kill Kyuubi?"

His eyes widened.

"He made me promise not to."

Sasuke sprang up and his vision abruptly reeled. Kakashi stood up in surprise, holding him in place by his shoulders until he stopped swaying. All that throwing up had weakened his body and Sasuke cursed his fucking stomach for wasting all those food and water.

He stood still, refusing to lean on the older man, and waited for his world to stop spinning. He focused on evening his breathing, his heartbeat, of thinking of what he would do to that lying littleshit when he saw her again.

"Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke... you can accuse me of all things, but lying? I never lied to you, littlest Uchiha."

She was right.

"Yes. I do love him."

She never really did lie.

"I killed Itachi, Sasuke. And I enjoyed every minute of it."

Until tonight.

"Bring me to her," Sasuke demanded. He stood straight, his shoulders stiff, daring Hatake Kakashi to disobey him. He growled when the ANBU gave his curvy-eyed smile before heading to the door. Sasuke followed impatiently behind him.

Those nightmares, those dreams—

"I don't dream normal dreams, is what I mean... sure, I dream, sometimes, but mostly I see memories."

The way she felt in his arms, inside her, beside her—

"And I hate myself for doing this to you... for ruining you like this."

Her clear blue eyes, looking back to his, seeing him for the first time as they reflected his wonder—

"You're the snow, teme... pure and flawless, wonderful in the light and beautiful in the dark."

His name on her lips—

"And me?"

Their kiss—

"I'm a mud. I'm tracking footprints in your snow and I..."

Their last night together—

"I couldn't stop myself, you fucking bastard."

They weren't lies.

As they drew nearer to a black door at the end of the hallway, Sasuke could feel hope—burning, wrenching hope—throbbing in his heart. He would talk to her, demand the truth from her—then he would crush her to his chest for daring to make him hate her. He would love her until she finally allowed herself to cry, until all her grief, her pain, were washed away by her tears. And then he would love her until she realized that what he felt for her was real and would never change no matter what she did, what she said.

He would love the fucking moron until she could love him back.

Complete idiot.

His unseeing eyes watched Kakashi swipe a card on a square box on the wall beside the door. The door opened with an audible click and the ANBU pushed it open.

"Shit."

His pale brows furrowed and Sasuke pushed Kakashi out of the way, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

Blood drained out of his face.

The room was empty.

Dobe—!

Save for the prints of red blood screaming on the walls.

Everyone hungers but not everyone hungers for the same. Some hungers for revenge, others want for power, still others need for peace, a few thirsts for life. Whatever it is, however far it is, traverse the distance laid out before your eyes—until you are content, until you are happy, until you reach the blue in the skies.