Chapter 66 - Allemande Fuoco

The first round of serious interrogations began that afternoon. Standard procedure. Which meant they were going to start gently.

Gently meant that they weren't going to break any skin. Orochimaru was already injured. This was a plus. He had places that were soft and places that were sore. Advantages. They wouldn't have to exert much effort. That was never fun.

Naruto wasn't there to supervise. He was the Hokage, but divisions existed for a reason. He just wanted the reports afterward.

And speaking of reports, Naruto had requested that Andou take a break and go archive-diving, since he didn't need to be there for the torture.

Exciting as it was that Orochimaru was in Konoha, and the unraveling mystery that he had dragged in with him, Andou loved a good archive dive.

"What do you need me to look up?"

"The Uzumaki Massacre. Whatever that was. See if there's anything on it."

Andou didn't even need to ask why. He had been there to hear Orochimaru's words. He had the transcript.

So he got on it.

There were records. Mission summaries, from before and after completion; photographs. Much more than Andou had anticipated. The folders in which they were kept creaked when he opened them, removing them from the dust-covered shelves of the archives.

The things he found scared him. But it wasn't the first time he'd seen such records.

The history of the world was written in blood, he'd read somewhere. It was easier to process as just words on a page, photographs of people he would never know.

There were many records, far too many for him to take as raw information. He made copies of the more important things with the well-used copy machine on that particular floor, and he put them in a folder and left it in Naruto's office. The rest he returned to the shelves, managing to stuff them back in with a little difficulty.

"Thanks, Andou-kun. I'll get to it after I finish with these requests here, y'know," he said. His smile was a true reward. "I'll call you if I need anything else."

Andou took the papers that had been signed thus far. "I'll get these filed for you," he said.

"Thanks, buddy."

Andou stopped to take a nap on the couch in one of the Manor's break rooms, after that. Going home would have taken too long and, frankly, there were people there he'd rather not deal with at such a time.

(Though, certainly, he would not have minded a cup of green tea on the porch with his mother, and a pleasant sleep in a sunny spot.)

(But there was always the possibility that he'd be summoned on an irrational whim. The possibility tightened his hands and kept him from straying too far.)

No one disturbed him, there.

And Naruto, eventually, got to reading. After he finished with his other duties, signing away approvals for a block of abandoned buildings to be refurbished into a residential area, for additional staff in maintaining the greenery of a park, the like. An intern picked up the paperwork as it was done.

He was still reading when someone knocked on the door. He didn't respond, and the door opened anyways.

"Hey, Naruto?" It was Sakura.

He finally looked up. "Wha-? Oh, hi, what's up?"

"Just thought I'd check in with you, let you know how things were going on my end," she said. She closed the door behind her and came closer to his desk.

"Oh, that's good." He thought. "Er, how are things going?"

"Well, I got the medicine to Karin," Sakura said.

"Oh yeah? Did it help?"

A shift of the head that might have been a nod. "She's… doing better. But she's still kind of… upset. I wouldn't talk to her for a while."

(Her hesitance was lukewarm, vomit-green and uncomfortable. Naruto knew not to touch it.)

"Fair enough," he said. "Just as long as she's safe and healthy and stuff, right?"

"Right…" Sakura made her way to his side. "Any word on how the… interrogations with Orochimaru are going?"

"Nothing, yet," Naruto said. His eyes kept straying to the folder on his desk. "Though Moegi-chan told me she'd let me know if anything happened."

"Right, right." She tilted her head. "What's that, then?"

"What's what?"

"That you're reading."

"Oh. Oh!" He shifted the papers around a little, with his fingers. "I had Andou-kun do some research for me on that thing that Orochimaru mentioned. The Uzumaki Massacre, or whatever it was."

(Sakura's discomfort shifted, no longer thick and dreadful, but thin, cautious, and cold.)

"…and what did you find out?"

He had to turn around, look at her, twist his eyebrows into the perfect expression concern-confusion. "What, it's not like I'm super-upset. This happened, like, years before I was born. Years before."

"Oh, I see..." She held onto her elbows with her hands.

"Seriously, I'm okay, y'know?"

"Okay, Naruto." A short sigh. "But what happened, anyways? I mean, massacre's a pretty… strong word, so…"

Naruto flipped through the pages, not really reading them. "Something about Mist getting angry at the clan for not playing nice or forming an alliance or something. It's kind of confusing."

"Mist?"

"Well yeah, the Land of Whirlpools was right on the border, y'know?" Naruto said. "You remember, we went there once, that one time."

"That… one time?"

"With the bridge, and Tazuna-san and Inari-san, and Haku and Zabuza. The Land of Waves used to be called Whirlpool, y'know?" he said, looking back at her again.

(Thirty years and she could still remember the smell of ice and blood, and the cold heaviness of Sasuke in her arms. When the world seemed so much simpler.)

"Oh. That time," she said.

"Yeah, that time," Naruto said. He went back to the papers. "Mist had been trying to get the Uzumaki clan to join them or integrate or something. I guess it went bad, 'cos they sent all these guys out and killed just about everyone, y'know."

It was mostly his tone that astonished her, like he was recalling something he'd seen on television. "What, seriously?"

"Yeah. Um, let's see…" More ruffled papers. "Yeah, uh, our guys managed to intercept the orders to attack and intervene so there were at least a few survivors."

"Well define a few," Sakura said.

"Uh…" A moment of thought. "Just not a lot. Though, hey, actually, you'll never guess who one of them was."

"Hm? Who?"

Naruto was smiling widely as he slid papers aside, until, finally, "There it is! Here, check this out." He held the paper up for Sakura to take.

It was a mission summary, a follow-up, written in a curved, almost lazy hand, with strokes that blended into each other and made shortcuts out of shortcuts. Sakura's impatience forced her only to skim, and she picked up a story of a girl found near the village's edge with a Mist ninja's headband in her hand, sullen and small and with blood on her feet. She'd been taken back to Konoha for protection and a new home and a new life.

"What is it?" she asked, putting it down.

"Look at her name," Naruto said.

So Sakura did. "Uzumaki Kushina." Her mouth stretched as she ran the name through her mind. "…am I supposed to know who that is?"

Naruto laughed through his teeth. "That's my mom, Sakura. Can you believe it?"

She had to read the report again. "Your mom?"

"Yeah, isn't that cool? I had absolutely no idea," Naruto said. "It kinda gave me a new respect for her, knowing she'd gone through such tough times, y'know."

"I… guess?" Sakura said. She put the paper back, over Naruto's shoulder, on the desk. "You didn't know much about her to begin with, anyways, right? I mean, you… grew up without any parents."

"Oh. Well, I." And Naruto, curiously, creased his face with thought and didn't answer for a while. He somehow managed to say something before Sakura's increasing awkwardness reached a peak. "Well I knew some stuff about her, I just never bothered to look too far or whatever beyond that, y'know?"

"Sure, I suppose," Sakura said. "Sorry, I guess I can't really relate."

"Hey, no big deal," Naruto said, and reached for the paper himself. "But that's not the best part! You know who wrote this?"

"Uh, who?"

"Jiraiya-sensei. I'd know that handwriting anywhere." He was grinning again.

"Wow, you serious?" Sakura almost found herself trying to get a better look at the words, even though it wouldn't have changed anything.

"Yeah, him and the other Sannin were posted on the mission an' Jiraiya-sensei was the one that found my mom an' took her back to Konoha, looks like," Naruto said. "It's so weird to think, y'know? That he knew her when she was little."

"I guess," Sakura said again.

"Just something kinda cool, y'know," Naruto said. He nodded, a few times. "I dunno."

"That… is something, Naruto," Sakura said. "Um, what other sorts of information's in there?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh, standard mission reports, who they apprehended or killed or whatever—lots of guys with Yuki in their name, seems like a clan thing—an' there's a list of the victims. It's kinda… small, actually," Naruto said. He found the list. The names, in two, neat columns, barely took up half the page. "It seems that there wasn't much left to get rid of, y'know."

Sakura looked away, nearing the corner of the desk. She bit her lip. "I see."

"Sakura, really, it doesn't bother me that much, y'know?" he said, after a while. "I mean, like I said, this stuff happened when my mom was a kid, y'know? It's not affecting me. Honestly," he added, "the only thing I'm really thinking of is which of these people Karin's baby and… Kiine came from."

That, she turned around at. Naruto was looking at the list, now, thoughtfully. "Hm?"

"Well, I mean, that's what Orochimaru said, right? That he got a buncha stuff from here, an' that's where Kiine and that baby Karin's having came from," he said. "And he was put on a mission here with Jiraiya-sensei and Tsunade-baasan at the time, so…"

"That's… something we could ask him about," Sakura said.

"Yeah, though he said it doesn't matter." A pause. Naruto rested his cheek on one of his hands. "Does it really, anyways?"

"Huh?"

"Matter if we know, I mean." His eyes narrowed with contemplation. "Like, uh. Well, I guess I haven't talked to him much since, but that Yakata kid didn't seem much at all like Sasuke's brother, even though they looked a lot alike. So it'd be kinda more like he's his son than actually him, y'know?"

"…I have no idea," Sakura said.

"Yeah, it's just kinda confusing." Naruto shifted his head to the other hand. "I don't even know any of the people on this list, anyways, y'know. Wouldn't matter anyways. Man. I wonder how many there really are, though, y'know? That he used. Or whatever."

"…again, I guess we could always ask him," Sakura said. She looked out the window, crossing her arms again. "I'm sure the interrogation team's on it."

"Yeah, no doubt," Naruto said. "Since, y'know, that was one of the things he wouldn't tell us."

"Uh-huh."

It was a cloudy day, and rain was expected later in the evening.

"So yeah, I guess that's all," Naruto said. "Honestly I'm mostly just waiting to hear back from the T&I guys. Kinda boring. You don't need to stay here, y'know."

"Yeah, I'll… probably go home. It'll be a nice surprise for Lee if I come home and start dinner for once." She managed a laugh.

"You should go do that! And say hi to him for me, y'know?" Naruto said. He closed the massacre's folder.

"Yeah, of course," Sakura said. She began for the door.

(Her uneasiness remained, shivering, wine-pink.)

"Don't let this bother you too much," he said, before she could leave. This made her turn around, just a little. "Seriously, it'll all be okay, y'know?"

"Okay, Naruto," she said, and left to return home.

Naruto just thought, for a good part of the afternoon. Imagining and speculating.

Representatives from the Torture and Interrogation unit arrived, eventually, in time for dinner. They had much to report, though of what they had to report, very little of it was actually news.

Orochimaru was resisting their efforts almost too well.

No matter which joints were stretched, bruises pushed, ribs squeezed; no matter how many needles they used or how tightly they bound him, he refused to speak.

Though he did make attempts for negotiation, here, and there.

"A bargain, perhaps, dear? Is that in your capacity?" in his own words.

"And what sort of bargain do you have in mind," Moegi, head of Interrogation, said. She wore long gloves that nearly reached her shoulders, and a rubber apron.

(She had come into her job at the age of eighteen as Ibiki's personal assistant, and became head of the department at twenty. Young, for her position. But years of medical training had unlocked a great and terrible love for figuring out how to take people apart and put them back together again.)

(Ibiki enjoyed his retirement, knowing his pet department was in such hands. Though he still relayed messages to the Hokage from his younger brother, whose connections with crime syndicates were most useful.)

"I will gladly continue cooperating if you promise me not to terribly bother any of my… accomplices. Though by your standards," he added, almost sarcastic in his tone of misery, "I suppose you could say I was just using them, so."

Moegi leaned in very closely. "Which accomplices?"

"Hozuki Suigetsu and my Karin. Should you incarcerate me, imprison me, whatever you think you'll do to me, please be a little more lenient with them. Those two were only doing their jobs. They ought not bear any burden of mine."

"We'll see."

Orochimaru could feel her breath on his face as she reached for another needle.

There was much he refused to speak on. His clones especially. How many there were. Where they had come from. Where they were now.

And everything else: "Well, dears, you rather already know, you can…" A wince, a hiss. "…read, can't you?"

There were transcripts. Procedure, after all.

He was naked above the waist and his white skin was turning pink where it was not already purple. They had replaced his shackles with rope, and it chafed.

He had laughed when they suggested using truth serum.

"Why you poor things, you honestly don't know, do you?" he said. "I came up with the formula for that serum. Commissioned to create it, actually. Inject all you want, but my resistance to it will only get you a handful of names at best. I do apologize, but even I'm smart enough to defend against myself."

Moegi just smiled, and began going after fingers, instead.

He remained silent, as infuriating as a lock with a lost combination.

Though, at the end of it, when they were packing up their tools and the medic was checking for anything broken, a syringe of antibiotics at the ready—an infection was the last thing they wanted to cause—he made one further request.

"…may I have my shirt back, please?"

His voice was much quieter, there. Almost humbled.

They still denied him this, and threw him back in his cell after exchanging the rope for shackles again. They also denied him a chair, and a meal, leaving him to slither to the corner and wait for the next attempt. They did not give him any schedule, any estimate for their return. Anticipation and surprise were fine and favored tools.

"Though we'll probably go at it again in the early morning," Moegi explained to Naruto. "But not again today. We have algorithms for this sort of thing. Too soon and it won't be as effective."

"Sure, yeah," Naruto said, nodding. "So what's the plan of action for tomorrow, then?"

"Well," Taro, Moegi's assistant said, "we were thinking of foregoing the physical and skipping right to a mind probe. I mean, he's one of the Sannin, so goodness knows what he can endure. Since he's obviously resistant to all of our efforts thus far."

"Unfortunately," Moegi added, flatly. "Mind readings are usually reserved for incapacitated persons or emergencies, or for particularly resistant persons."

"And this seems as good an emergency as any, ma'am," Taro said, gently, a hand on her forearm. His head was shaved, making his skin appear rough and red, like sandstone, and covered with a handkerchief otherwise. "Besides, you saw how well he resisted. He's not a typical case."

"I suppose," Moegi said.

"Just… do what you can," Naruto said, waving his hand. "And report back to me with what you do, or if he says anything else."

"Yes, sir," they replied in tandem.

"Though, sir," Moegi asked, before leaving, "must we tell him the conditions of Hozuki Suigetsu and Karin?"

"How do you mean?" Naruto said.

"He was asking about them, and for a more lenient judgment of them," Moegi said. "I understand this isn't a new request."

"…eh, just don't tell him anything. It'll probably be better for us if he doesn't know." Naruto scowled, thinking it over a little. "I mean, that'll make him nervous, right?"

"Very perceptive, sir," Moegi said, lips curling up slightly.

"Should we actually incarcerate them, then?" Taro said.

"…nah, that wouldn't be fair to them," Naruto said. "I got ANBU looking after them at the hospital right now, I don't see why we gotta move 'em."

"Sounds fair," said Taro.

"I have nothing else, sir," Moegi said. "May we take our leave?"

"Yep. Go ahead," Naruto said.

The pair disappeared.

It began to rain, in the evening, as expected.

This put Sasuke further on edge. He hadn't left the house since returning to it in the afternoon. This was all he could think of, returning. Because he was nervous, he was—rightly so, because if something were to happen then maybe Takeru, maybe Takeru would be able to do something about it. He had doubts about the other help.

Ino got on his case about it, when Sasuke simply wouldn't stop pacing the hallways. Twice, actually.

"What. It's not like I'm actually—I'm respecting his privacy, like you told me to, you insufferable—never mind," he said, the second time. He pushed past her and began another loop.

The first time, he wouldn't move from the door to the living room, leaning against the wall across from it, but he didn't dare go in. Yakata was with Nadeshiko. They were reading, together, on the couch. Not saying anything.

She hadn't left the house either. But he supposed some sacrifices had to have been made. She wasn't corrupting him. They weren't even talking.

(Besides, how could she, even she, corrupt Itachi?)

(…was he really, really, really still thinking this?)

He was.

Yakata was protected, yes, from any sort of danger, yes, but also from Sasuke. His family was in the way. He couldn't just ask him, "Brother, is that you?"

Surely, if Itachi really were present, he wouldn't make himself known in front of anyone but Sasuke.

But, still, something bothered him. Something telling him, This isn't possible, this isn't possible, this isn't fucking POSSIBLE.

Yakata was Yakata, he wasn't—but maybe he was, and—and so much that had seemed impossible, so much that wasn't supposed to exist did exist.

Yakata existed. Orochimaru existed. He was there, with his dry, disgusting words. Sasuke could still feel the coldness of that skin on the surface of his knuckles.

There was something he could do to… soothe his mind. Right? Wasn't there? There had to be.

But what? What could he even do? What was he even afraid of?

Of the sheer impossibility of everything. Orochimaru wasn't supposed to exist. He wasn't supposed to exist.

(Because his mind was still trapped.)

The thought occurred to him at dinner. A tight, silent dinner, where the only sounds were cutlery and falling rain.

Orochimaru wasn't supposed to exist because Itachi.

He got up.

"Sasuke, what's the matter?" Ino said.

He began down the hallway, he had to go outside.

"Sasuke!"

"I need to do something," he said, quickly. He began putting on his shoes.

"What do you need to do?"

"Shut up and let me do it and don't yet Yakata leave the house do you understand," Sasuke said. He opened the door. "I'll be back."

And he left. The rain drowned out any reply that Ino might have given him.

Orochimaru wasn't supposed to exist because Itachi had, all those years ago, saved him.

Sealed him into the sword.

And Itachi's eyes were now Sasuke's.

The sword was Sasuke's to own.

All he had to do was look.

His hair was wet and it stuck to his face and made his clothes heavy but he didn't care because he had to check.

Why he had to check he didn't know, what did he expect to see? If he was there, then no surprise, the snake must have—found a way anyways, his mind must have had crevices in which to hide, failsafes—and Kabuto, Kabuto, that other body. Sasuke had been young and ignorant in those days, surely the snake had done things he hadn't noticed, because he had no desire to learn, then, and.

If he wasn't, then no surprise. His mind was already in the new, cloned body, doubtlessly slithered out somehow because he worked in certain ways.

No surprises, nowhere.

He just had to see.

Nobody would bother him at the old compound. It was raining and he was alone.

It was raining and he was alone.

His eyes did not bleed as blue flames, heatless and hard, began to writhe around him. As arms of black bone grew over his arms and mightily.

There, in that right, blue hand, he saw the sword. White, gourd-like, a sword only in name and use.

Within it, was there really?

He needed to see, he needed to see, he needed to.

He commanded it open.

See.

Sasuke wasn't sure what he should have expected, but it was not what emerged from the sword.

Whiteness like blood, like vomit or snot, thick and sticky and stringy, began to drool out of the sword's mouth and onto the ground. It pooled like batter, in uneven, messy drips, but each contributing to the disgusting, growing whole.

For a while, it stayed there, and did not move.

The rain evaporated where it touched the blue light that surrounded him. His skin had long since dried.

Sasuke breathed deeply, from the stomach, waiting for—something—anything—to happen.

And something, eventually, horribly, did.

The white pool, the liquid that the rain rolled off of and did not ripple against, began to rise, higher and higher. Forming itself into something, but slowly, like it had long since forgotten what form even was.

It fell, a few times. Melting back into itself in a stumbling, liquid motion. Something vaguely human began to take shape.

Vaguely.

And even when its features sharpened and smoothed and gained color, when wet slime became wet hair and wet skin, when that face gained its own set of urine-yellow eyes, with irises half-rolled back into their sockets.

It still looked only vaguely human.

Sasuke stood his ground and was thankful that the hands of the Susano'o were far steadier than his. The earth around him had turned dust-dry.

And then.

It spoke.

Slowly, sleepily, clumsily, but. It still spoke.

"…curious. So… so very curious…" it said. "I wonder, is…" It lurched forward, nearly falling on its knee, but remaining upright. "Is… this just another dream, mm? Hmhmhmhm." It laughed with a closed mouth. "Another… another wonderful vision… Hmhmhmhm… Ah, yes… Ah… yes…"

Those yellow eyes, half-focused, gained just the barest amount of clarity.

And they rested upon Sasuke. And the mouth beneath those eyes, beneath that dripping nose, twitched itself into a blurry smile.

"Sasuke-kun. You… again… What happened to you, child…?" It took an attempt at a step forward, but wobbled uneasily where it stood, instead. "You usually… are so much… so much more handsome when I'm… hmhmhmhm… allowed to see you grow up…"

What was it Sasuke had been expecting to see?

(What was this pitiful, sexless thing before him? Surely not…)

"So magnificent… those eyes…" it continued. Another step-attempt, ending in a stumble. Its knee melted into the puddle of sick on the ground, becoming one with it. "That… flame… Truly you… have finally, hm, hmhmhmhm, surpassed your dear brother, here…"

Sasuke, involuntarily, took a step back.

"Oh, Sasuke-kun, I'm… hmhmhmhm…! I'm so very proud of you…" It stood again, half-bent, hard, white teeth gaining the barest presence between its lips. "Truly this is… the finest dream yet… Grown so… powerful and strong…"

Another step back. Not at the thing's words, but at the sudden, delicate suggestion of sadness that grew upon its face.

"I wonder if, hm… Tsunade is here too, then… Or… hmhmhmhm, Jiraiya… Jiraiya, where are you, darling…? Are you in this, hm, this dream too…? Jiraiya…"

Its hair fell into its eyes like an oil slick, like how it had fallen over his eyes in the chair, and its head tilted upward, into the rain.

"…it never hurts this… this badly…"

Once again, it fell to its knees, curling into itself, hands holding shoulders, thighs and calves melting into each other.

"…where are my beloved…? Why aren't they here…?"

Sasuke could say nothing, do nothing, but watch.

Was this really…?

The creature, the imitation of a man's back convulsed and its hands smacked wetly against the mud-ground as it braced itself.

"…I'm not awake yet, am I…?"

It said, before its voice twisted into a wet wail of a thing, its sobs turning into retching coughs.

And from out of that uncertain, half-formed mouth, white snakes began to pour forth, hitting the ground wetly and thickly, like spilled intestines.

They moved.

Sasuke could not have moved fast enough.

Go back, go back, go back! Back into the sword!

And the gourd gained a blade and that blade drove itself, deeply, into the back of the thing, and the thing lost its form and began sliding up it, back into the gourd, back where it belonged.

Sasuke was breathing quickly, from the chest, his shoulders rising and falling. His stomach was too full of.

It wasn't fear he was feeling it wasn't fear it was just disgust because.

Who wouldn't be disgusted by such a thing? A pathetic white pool of.

Surely he had kept his mind elsewhere, because it was truly gone here.

Surely Kabuto had something to do with it.

Surely he had.

Managed something.

The blue flames around Sasuke's body, the bones and the beast, began to decompose. He felt the rain on his face.

What was he expecting to see? What purpose did it serve, bearing witness to that pathetic mass of a thing?

It meant nothing. It meant nothing.

Failsafes, there had been failsafes, hadn't there?

Sasuke did not understand the sciences, he didn't understand.

(What if he'd managed to put this plan into machination while still within Sasuke's body? If, somehow, it was Sasuke's fault that he still lived?)

He let the rain cover him for several cold seconds.

This wasn't his fault.

None of it was.

This proved nothing. It wasn't even reassurance. It was just.

Another part of a whole. Refuse.

It meant nothing.

The only thing it proved was how.

Irrational he was. When he gave into his delusions.

(But the last delusion was.)

Enough, enough, enough.

It was raining and his clothes were becoming heavy. He was cold.

And this had proven nothing, anyways, hadn't it? He had told himself this on the way over.

Why had he even insisted on doing this in the first place?

Because he had to see?

There were days, days like this, (like that one, horrible April), when Sasuke wished he had more strength.

He had to go home.

So he did, arriving, soaking wet, and angry. Ino asked him where he had been.

"Is it any of your business," he replied.

Yakata was rightly, wonderfully invisible. Ino told him, when requested, when ordered, that he was upstairs. Upstairs, with-

"Good just keep him there and don't let him leave the house."

She said something weak and hardly comforting. Sasuke began for his room.

Takeru asked him if he was quite all right, catching him in the hallway before he could disappear. "You're drenched, Father, did you not even think to bring an umbrella?"

"Nothing worth worrying about, son."

(Oh, but Takeru did worry.)

And Sasuke took off his clothes and hardly bothered with replacing them, and he lay on the bed with far too much of his wretched body exposed.

There were times when he despised his mind.

But he despised the outside circumstances of everything far more. The things he could not control, nor understand.

He managed to get himself covered before his wife came in, however long it took her. Didn't want her getting any ideas.

But he couldn't cover his discomfort.

It was a merciful thing, that she so willingly left him alone.