Chapter 3 - Vulture's Feather

Oh, the Honbo family? Wasn't their house put over there?

Why, yes it was.

You did such a wonderful job, shinobi-san. We're so very grateful.

Village women all seemed to look the same. But Sasuke thanked them, as was expected of him, and he heard them titter away towards the fires and the wine and the dancing.

He wouldn't be out of the house for something like this. Not without his eyes.

Unless, somehow, he still had…?

How was that even possible?

Sasuke supposed that he would find out on his own, in due time.

Goodness, and Sasuke had thought that Yakata was his brother… What had gotten into him? That was blatantly impossible, for just so many reasons. Though the resemblance was just uncanny. But there were explanations for that.

He found the Honbo house. He didn't remember helping to build it - probably the work of one of his students - and he knocked softly on the door.

He could hardly believe what he was doing, but.

But maybe, just…

Yakata answered the door, and his black, familiar eyes widened. "Sasuke-san?"

Sasuke said nothing, red eyes blinking once, twice. Where had he heard…?

Yakata shrunk back. "Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I, I, I just heard your student calling for you, and…" So he had remembered. Yakata stopped, fidgeted, stared at his feet, then back at Sasuke. "Why, why, why are you here?"

"Is your father home, Yakata? I wanted to meet with him." And Sasuke was almost smiling, what in the world had gotten into him?

He didn't tell himself to not get his hopes up, to prepare for disappointment, because this was the only thing that made sense. Nothing else could explain what his eyes could not deny.

Itachi was alive. And there was Yakata, the proof. Nothing else made sense.

His breath caught in his throat, like it had in the forest, when Yakata said, "Papa's not… he, he, he's not home right now."

"Where is he?"

"I-in the village."

"Where in the village?"

"I, I, I don't know."

"When will he be back?"

"Later." Yakata looked up at Sasuke with his father's eyes, almost fearfully. "Wh-why do you want to, to talk to him?"

What could he say? "Let's just say that there are some things I've been wanting to ask him." That was vague enough, and true enough.

"Oh," Yakata said.

"Yakata, who's that at the door?" His mother arrived, peering above Yakata's shoulder, the woman named Satoko. Itachi's… wife? She was younger than Sasuke expected, now that he thought about it.

"Satoko-san," Sasuke said, nodding. He could at least be polite. He was even using honorifics. "I was asking to see if your husband was home."

"Oh, he just stepped out for a moment. He should be home soon, though," she replied, nodding back, then tilting her head at him. "What did you need from him?"

"Just to ask a few questions," Sasuke said again, "if it's not too much trouble."

He still didn't know what he would ask.

"Well he shouldn't take long. Would you like to come in and wait for him? I just made some tea."

The least he could do was accept her politeness. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

"Yakata, please show our guest in," Satoko said, disappearing into the house.

"Call me Sasuke," Sasuke told her.

"Ah." Her face shifted, so slightly, at his insistence. "Then please show Sasuke-san in, Yakata."

Yakata stepped aside, keeping his eyes on Sasuke as he took off his shoes, then entered the wooden house.

The handiwork was much better than he was expecting. Guided by a carpenter, made by his genin. They had done a good job, everyone was saying this.

"Just a moment," Satoko said, waving her hand. "I'll go get the teacups. Yakata, find Sasuke-san a seat, please."

Leaving Sasuke and Yakata alone in the main room.

Yakata brought him a cushion, and even though it was somewhat dirty, Sasuke sat down on it.

Silence.

"Um."

Yakata.

"If, if, if you don't mind me asking. What, what, what do you want to, to ask my papa?"

What did Sasuke want to ask Itachi?

"A lot of things."

"Oh." The boy was sitting, now, neatly, formally, perfectly, on the floor. He'd been taught well. "Things about… about me?" he said, after a while.

Sasuke had a lot of things he wanted to ask about Yakata. "I suppose there are some things I want to ask him about you."

Yakata's hands held each other very tightly. "Oh."

They sat across from each other, keeping their words captive, wondering why the tea was taking so long.

Sasuke lost control, for a moment. "Is he good to you? Your father, I mean."

Why did he ask that, why did he ask that? Was that the only way he could ask about Itachi?

"…yeah. I, I like him. Mama, too."

Why did he say that?

"…so I, I, I guess this means… you're… you're him, aren't you," Yakata said.

The words stuck in the air and got into Sasuke's throat, and he couldn't say anything.

"Since... since I, I look a lot like, like you, I guess." He glanced to the side, but he was still talking. "That's… that's why you, you were following me, wasn't it."

You look like me because you look like him, Sasuke thought. It's in your blood.

Still feeling like if he said anything now, did anything now, that the boy would be gone.

But the boy was not his brother, he was just the proof.

"I, I just didn't, I didn't think… you'd actually come. H-here, I mean. Um." He looked at Sasuke, and didn't say anything more.

"Well I'm here, now, aren't I?"

He almost had to clear his throat, feeling like he'd broken through a crust of the unspoken.

Really, what else could he say?

Yakata's smile was small, but nervous, full of apprehension, like his voice.

Sasuke wanted to tell him to stop smiling like that, because there was nothing to be nervous over, but Satoko came by with the teacups, finally.

"Apologies for the wait. It wasn't quite ready yet." She put the cups on a tray, with the teapot. They were mismatched, but merchants and packages of goodwill from nearby villages had been slowly replacing what had been lost, so one had to take what one could get. She poured tea into one of the cups and handed it to Sasuke. "Here you go."

Sasuke held the teacup in his hands, but didn't drink from it.

"Yakata, dear, don't stare," she whispered, sitting down beside him. Sasuke still heard her. Yakata lowered his eyes. "So, uh, Sasuke-san. You were the one that enjoyed my rice porridge so much, weren't you?"

"Mm."

"Told the elder, didn't you?"

"Mm."

"I wonder, should I make something special for him, or is what I made for you what you liked so much?"

"I don't have an opinion."

Yakata wasn't staring, but Sasuke was. He couldn't see Satoko's expression.

"I… hope my Yakata wasn't bothering you too much," she added, after a while, resistance in her voice.

"He wasn't."

All Sasuke felt like doing was waiting. So he did. The tea cooled in his hands.

The door slid open, behind him.

He held his breath.

"I'm back."

Whose voice was that?

"Welcome home. We have a guest, dear," Satoko said, standing, going to greet him. "Sasuke-san, the ninja from Konoha."

There was no answer from the foyer.

"The grown one," she added, quietly, from behind; and then, much quieter: "The one with those eyes."

"…what does he want?"

"To talk to you."

Whose voice was that? Who was she talking to? Who was that sighing there?

"Just be polite and see what he wants."

Did they really think he couldn't hear them?

Sasuke could hear their footsteps coming closer. He could hear his heart beating in his ears.

Itachi was standing right behind him.

He closed his eyes.

What would he say? What should he say?

The seconds passed like years.

And then, the words came. "It's been a long time," Sasuke said.

"…has it really?"

Who was that?

The footsteps traveled around beside him, before him.

Sasuke took a breath.

And opened his eyes.

…where was Itachi?

There was Satoko, his wife; there was Yakata, his son.

But who was that man sitting there? And where was Itachi?

"…no, really, have we met?" the man said.

He had a square jaw and brown hair and brown eyes. He was younger than Itachi, younger than Sasuke.

"…who are you?" The words were lifeless as they fell out of Sasuke's mouth.

"Well, my name's Honbo Gishi; my wife told me that you're Sasuke-san, from Konoha, yes?"

Sasuke didn't answer.

"Is there something I can do for you, Sasuke-san?"

Yakata stared at his knees. He looked nothing like his mother. He looked nothing like his father. Sasuke could see that, plainly.

But he looked like Itachi.

It had to be true. Nothing else could explain this. It had to be.

And Sasuke's eyes never lied to him.

But what could explain the two pairs of unfamiliar eyes, staring at him there, the air growing thicker and thicker? The one pair he knew refusing to look at him?

And all of this in that land where he had once been the prize of a snake, a land he tried to forget. That he had forgotten, once.

Gishi - not Itachi not Itachi - asked him something again, but Sasuke couldn't really hear him.

Something something mistaken for someone something no.

It was like a bad dream.

No.

A nightmare. All of this.

The man who was asking him what was going on, the woman with the tea that was growing cold that looked worried, so worried.

Yakata, that mirror image. That shadow. That boy with his brother's eyes.

Where was Itachi?

He had to be here.

But he had been dead for so long. Sasuke had seen him die. And his eyes never lied to him.

Why was this happening? Why was this happening? Why was this happening?

Where was Itachi?

(Itachi wasn't there.)

Sasuke couldn't even remember what he had said to excuse himself, but he just needed to get out of that house.

He took his shoes, and he left.

(Quietly, Yakata apologized, hating himself.)

-/-

The elder's house was silent when Sasuke entered, the fire in the hearth down to glowing embers.

That boy's face swam in his mind. Superimposed, a perfect fit, those eyes, those very same eyes…

No. No, no, no.

It was a coincidence. That, more than anything else, more than anything else, proved that. It was just a coincidence.

Itachi was dead. He had been dead for 27 years. And that was where the story ended. His eyes were with Sasuke, and that was where they stayed.

Sasuke was not tired, but he felt like he just needed to sleep.

He couldn't.

He sat up, he held his forehead in his hands.

He got up, he paced.

Wishful thinking. Was that what it had been? No, no, no, wishful thinking was "Gee, wouldn't it be nice if Itachi were still around?"

Wishful thinking was "Gosh, I wish I could just talk to my brother and tell him all the things I never got to say."

Wishful thinking was not "My brother's still alive, oh, and he's happily married with a wife and kid out in the Land of Rice!"

Sasuke was talking to himself, now, walking in wide circles around the elder's living room.

(There was nobody else in the house. Good.)

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't miss Itachi that badly, did he?

Well of course he missed Itachi, ever since he had found out about the truth. But everything that had happened in Tamina, in the Honbo house; this little nightmare, this little cataclysm. What was it in the first place?

That, that was what he was concerned about. Was that - this, whatever that was - even missing Itachi?

To think that some random farm boy - no, not the boy, his father - had been him? However impossible that fact was? Why had he been so eager to accept that this was - had been - whatever - the truth?

There was a table, and Sasuke had an urge to kick it, to destroy it.

There, and gone. He couldn't bring attention to himself here, he didn't want to have to explain himself in the morning.

Damn it.

He loved his brother, certainly. Not a day went by that he was not thankful for his countless sacrifices. But to miss him enough to want him back? No, that wasn't wrong, that was a common thing.

(Sasuke, a grown man, with children of his own, still missed his mother.)

But… but to actually convince himself that he had come back or, or hadn't even died in the first place, though? To have those, those…

…delusions?

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Sasuke stopped to hold his forehead, his fingers clenching, his eyes spinning furiously. That's what it was, wasn't it. Not wishful thinking, just delusions and coincidence.

He felt disgusted. His head hurt.

He wanted to leave. To just… pack up everything and return to Konoha, to his clan. His living clan.

He had five children. Hajime, Takeru, Nadeshiko, Inou, Karai. A clan. None of them were nearly as talented as Itachi - as Sasuke himself, even - had been.

Hajime was average.

Takeru, he was proud of, and for good reason.

Nadeshiko was…

A pause. A scowl.

His greatest disappointment.

Inou had failed the chuunin exams twice already.

And Karai was too young for him to tell, but she disappointed nearly as much as Inou did, unmotivated and ordinary as she was.

They were Uchihas, but they were flawed, in a way. Incomplete. There was always something wrong with them.

…was that really a reason to miss Itachi? Itachi, who had been…

…perfect.

Great.

Why was he still thinking about that?

Fine.

He was done thinking about it. He would fold up his little nightmare and never think about…

Those eyes, Yakata, his—

When he said never he meant never.

Damn it!

Really. That was it. He would just forget about it, like he had forgotten about everything else that had ever happened. And he would go home.

They were done with their mission, weren't they? They could leave whenever they wanted to.

Oh. Yeah. "They." He still had his three students to keep track of.

Where the hell were they?

Sasuke figured he'd see them in the morning, anyways. He felt tired, and he was going to bed. Really, this time.

He and his students would return to Konoha in the morning. They would rest, and then resume training.

(Some small part of him really did wonder how Go'on had climbed the tree, wanting to record it with his Sharingan.)

And he would forget that he had ever had those thoughts in the first place.

Embarrassing. He was better than this. He had better things to do.

He would take care of it in the morning.

He'd take care of it in the.

Morning.

He dreamed of Itachi, that night, and Yakata.

It was a nightmare.

-/-

Kyou was, in fact, in the village, listening with rapt attention as an older boy told him and a bunch of the other youngsters stories about the Riverman, who came out of, duh, the rivers at night, searching for the man who had made him out of mud and dust and bones, seeking eternal rest.

"No, no, no, you got it all wrong. He's searching for his master, who said he'd come back someday," one child said, hugging his knees, trying not to show his fear. "An' he wasn't made by nobody, he's just waiting for his master."

"And how would you know that?" said the older boy, who knew everything.

"Cos I've seen 'im. I heard 'im say it himself."

And everyone called him out on it and okay, okay, fine, so he hadn't seen the Riverman, his little knees knocking together as they shivered.

But they were still wrong about the thing about him looking for the guy who made him, he said. Nobody believed any of that, though.

And then Kyou, master of stories, devourer of history and fiction alike, who didn't care where the real ended and the fantastic began, said that he had a story to tell.

About the Woman of the Woods. From where he was from. She was at least ten times scarier than the Riverman.

None of them believed him.

So he told them about her.

About how she was an abductor of children, and how she would seal them into trees without a moment's hesitation.

Kyou and his stories were very popular, for the rest of the night, and he was more than glad to tell them.

He was a smart boy, and he knew a million stories. He knew about the Sage of the Six Paths and the Hokages and the heroes of the Great Ninja Wars and the Sannin and the jinchuuriki and just everything. He knew stories about everything from before the Founding of the Hidden Villages to whatever new gossip the women who came by to have their clothes mended by his father had to share.

And Sasuke-sensei, the stories he could tell about him.

He collected stories like most people collected stamps, or coins. But coin collectors never spent their coins. Stamp collectors never used their stamps. Kyou shared his stories as often and as easily as he collected them.

By the time he was through, practically everyone knew about the Woman, some even claiming that she lived in the woods right outside the village, that there were trees where, if you put your ear up to them, you could still hear the screaming of the children inside.

They were wrong, of course, but that was the nature of stories. They changed.

The Woman only lived in Konoha, everyone knew that, and in one forest and one forest alone: Training Ground Number 44. The Forest of Death. That is why she was what older people called an urban legend, and what younger people simply called a legend.

Sunao was among the women, asking about recipes, and they were more than willing to share. She was a smart girl, she learned by watching and by listening. And she wanted to bring something back from the Land of Rice that she could use at home.

Practicality! It was her favorite word, after all. Well, technically, it was just "Practical," but what was the big difference?

Yeah, she had favorite words. She also made lists in her head about people she wanted to spar with - she had always wanted to see what it would be like to fight an Aburame - and her favorite foods. And least favorite foods. And not just hers, but her family's, her friends'. She'd been the one to tell Kyou that Sasuke's favorite food was tomatoes, after all, when he'd pulled her aside in the hallway the afternoon they'd been assigned to a team together.

That stuff was more important, especially when you had a five year old tugging at your shirt asking for a snack when you were busy cooking and could only reach for something within a three foot radius and he'd burst into tears if there wasn't even the slightest trace of strawberry in it. She just didn't understand her step-brother sometimes, but then again, he was five.

Whatever. She had a lot of time to think to herself when cooking breakfast and dinner for her siblings. She found ways to keep herself entertained when the rest of the world was so very boring.

That was the good part of all of it, really. When the world was so boring, it was so easy to find little pieces of happiness.

Her siblings had to cook for themselves for the first time in forever, since she was gone on this mission. She was worried about them, but at the same time, she knew they'd be fine. It had to happen eventually.

And then there was Go'on, who was still in the elder's house.

He heard every word that Sasuke said, after opening the door with an almost murderous intent, talking so loudly to himself that Go'on could hear him, even from the loft where he and his teammates slept.

He wondered who Itachi was.

He was a smart boy, and he figured it out very quickly. And he felt a supreme sadness, for Sasuke, for his children, for the poor soul that had been mistaken for his brother, whoever he was.

At least, he felt this way once Sasuke had finally gone to sleep, mumbling, "In the morning, deal with it… in the morning…"

When he was still awake, when he was stomping around and speaking like a man possessed, Go'on was terrified.

He had told Sunao to go on ahead, to have fun, that he would go to bed early.

He'd rather face a million crowds, a million faces of hatred and accusation, a million possible former Sound ninja than this.

If he had known that this, that this would happen…

His mother had told him, as a child, that Sasuke had once been a monster. She knew this because she had seen it herself, as a girl. That there were times when he used to get a fire in his eyes, when his skin became mottled with a black uncleanness like flames.

He wasn't a monster any more, of course. At least, not on the outside.

Go'on felt terrible for thinking such things.

And then he thought of his mother, eyes closed tightly, as he held his legs and listened and prayed that he would not be found, under his blankets.

He hated sleeping in that house, in that loft. He hated it, he hated not being able to see the sky. He hadn't been able to sleep properly, since moving to the elder's house.

With Sasuke there, with Sasuke ranting like that, he didn't know if he'd be able to fall asleep, not ever, oh, no, not ever.

He wanted to be in a tree. He would be safe in a tree. The tree would protect him against those red, hateful, pained, painful eyes.

He imagined that the darkness of the ceiling was the sky. And he managed to fall asleep before Sunao and Kyou came home with the elder and his wife, dreaming of that great forest he loved so much, his mother's arms around him, like branches.

In the morning, they began on their way back to Konoha, after warm but baffled thanks from the elder and what small payment accompanied the rice and lodgings.

"So early, though?" the elder said, still in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes. "The sun hasn't even risen."

"We need to make quick time," Sasuke said. "I hope you understand." And the elder said he did.

"Take care, loves. And thank you, again," said the elder's wife. And she gave each of the children a kiss on the forehead, for protection.

There were no shadows in the darkness. And the village of Tamina was already out of sight by the time the sun rose.

Good riddance.

And Sasuke thought of that village no more.

Already, his thoughts were on other things. How had Go'on climbed up that tree? And had Inou been keeping up on his training? He doubted it. The way he had to hound that boy, really, it was pitiful.

"Since we left so early, Sensei, we should be back in Konoha by tomorrow morning, correct?" That was Kyou, again. His voice sounded hopeful.

"We'll be home by nightfall." Sasuke began to run. "Keep up."

And they did. And they were.

They had done a good job. Even Sasuke had said it, so it must have been true.

Though this, by no means, meant that they were allowed to slack off.

Kyou had his hands on his knees. "Not at all… Sensei…!" Kyou had habit for running everywhere, but habit alone didn't keep him from gasping for air with a wild grin on his face.

"When are we going to meet… again…?" Sunao had made them lunch on the way there, an incredible lunch of rice that seemed practically bursting with energy.

"Take a break. Two days. We'll meet again on Monday."

"…thank you, Sensei." Go'on was not even winded. Funny, given how he had caused them so much trouble on the way up.

So, they parted. And each of them went home, to waiting mothers and fathers, exhausted and glad; Kyou full of stories, Sunao full of recipes, Go'on full of relief.

Except for Sasuke, who had to report to Naruto first. He was full of annoyance. Just more things keeping him from home.

He slammed the payment from the village elder onto his desk, after barging in without announcing himself, along the sacks of rice that came with the money. "We're on a break until Monday, so don't give us any missions until then, you got me?"

Naruto grinned. "I told you so, y'know."

"Oh shut up."

And Sasuke went home.

When his wife told him that he was home early, she almost sounded disappointed. She had already set the table, only made enough for her and the kids. Hajime was home after such a long time on his mission, so she had made his favorite, soba noodles. She didn't expect Sasuke back until…

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Sasuke said. He was hungry.

He didn't have to say any more, because she sighed and said she'd see what she could do. They didn't have to set an extra place for him, though. Nadeshiko got up from where she had been reading, waiting at the table, long hair over her shoulders like an old woman's shawl, saying she would get something to eat on her own. She left without another word.

Ten years, and Sasuke still couldn't stand the sight of her. Not after what she had done. He considered himself lucky that she so willingly rid herself from his presence, and so often; a redeeming feature, he told himself, without humor. But he didn't like to dwell on those things too much.

He talked to Takeru all evening, smiling, asking him questions, having questions asked of him, the rest of the family eating in silence.

Well, except when Takeru reminded him to ask about Inou's training: "Still working on those… techniques of yours, little brother?"

Sasuke had to make sure that it wasn't just him fiddling around with Yamanaka arts or anything like that, those wastes of time and talent.

But Inou had been training. Proper training, too, that strengthened the body. Practical skills, for Uchiha techniques. And Sasuke told him to keep it up, since the chuunin exams were coming up sooner than he thought, and he couldn't risk failure this time around.

And Inou had said he would, and then he excused himself from the dinner table. Karai followed him.

And then Sasuke took a bath, rested his aching muscles.

And then he went to sleep beside Ino's thin body, an unmoving, distant mass in his bed that was already there when he settled in for the night.

And he did not dream of anything.

And it was good.

-/-

When the Honbo family went to the elder in the morning, the old man could do nothing else but say that Sasuke-san had left with his students long before they had arrived.

What had they wanted to ask of him?

"Well, Yakata?"

Yakata apologized for wasting their time, and asked to go back home.

Please.