If you stay in the dark for too long, emerging is like being scorched. The sun hurts your eyes. The world is bleached of detail, and it is painful to see clearly again. The worst part is that you can't avoid it. A person can't wander blind forever, no matter how much he wants to.

There are two memories that I can never shake. One is something I wish I could forget, but it is too deeply a part of me. It shaped me - sharpened me into what I am. I wish it had never happened.

The other. . . no one would guess it. It seems so inconsequential, but everything in me curls around it as though it's something precious, and refuses let it go. It has a texture that never fades - sight, scent, and sound.

It took me years to recognize it for what it is: an unspoken hope in three dimensions.

I was just a boy then. I still thought I was on the right path. I thought that it was trivial and a sign of weakness, but I was puzzled as to why I couldn't get it out of my head.

I suppose it's a blessing that I never wanted to.

----------

But first things first. It always comes back to that moment. That terrible moment, and the shadowy, unformed fear that preceded it. The thought that maybe, if I had done something. . .

But I didn't, and I found Itachi in our house that evening, smiling as much as he was capable of smiling as he stood surrounded by corpses. My vision narrowed, focusing with a painful intensity. Any road that didn't lead me to him was useless. All that mattered was strength, because strength would bring vengeance. Morals had no practical use in the task I set myself. Friendship only got in the way.

I took power wherever I could. I tested my ability continually, to see if my capacity was enough to defeat him. It seems bizarre now that I didn't realize how much I was like him. Exactly like him, only less reasonable, and more obsessed. It would be foolish to say I regret it now, because regret means nothing - but when I look back, I wonder if anything could have stopped me. I saw nothing, because I was blind.

Slowly, I managed to make the last Uchiha into a slave, and a murderer.

I became Orochimaru's right hand. I gave my body over to him, bathed myself in the blood of those I once called my allies. Through it all, I had only the faintest reassurance that I could ever evict him of my own will.

The cruelty of it is that I remember everything. I had thought he would simply occupy me, and I was all right with that. But instead. . . he was the serpent whispering in my ear. I felt his urges, but I was still myself. I learned to enjoy it.

I remember the look of sad disbelief on Iruka's face in the few moments after the sweep of my sword, and before his face froze into the sphinx-like mask of a corpse. I sneered then, feeling my own offended pride mingle with Orochimaru's enjoyment of my former-teacher's slaughter. He always went in for that kind of thing. I wondered how thin the forces of the Leaf were stretched, if they would send someone so weak for me. I was an avenger, with Orochimaru's techniques and the power of my bloodline behind me. I was a honed blade, and sending Iruka with his soft eyes and uncertain smile was pathetic.

The force of my hate grew, giving me a fierce, brittle strength. But on the mornings when Orochimaru lay quiet in my mind, that memory would fill my head, and I would feel the confused mass of emotions that always accompanied it. Strangely, it was something that Orochimaru remained unaware of, and couldn't touch. I thought that my hate broke the hold of Orochimaru, because his strength was similarly rooted.

But now, I wonder if it truly was the hate that allowed me to cast him out and destroy him.

I began the endless search for my brother. After being occupied for so long, the quiet in my head felt foreign and unbearable.

It was then, on the last leg of my journey, that I started to think about him constantly. It was strange, but after ten years of being Orochimaru's puppet, nothing seemed very strange. I knew Naruto had become Hokage, because it had been my business to know those who were dangerous to me.

It began slowly, but then - every night, for some reason, my last thoughts were of Naruto. I wondered how many hunters he had after me. I wondered who would win if we fought. I wondered how he'd changed, and if he was happy at finally achieving his goal. I wondered if had ever learned to properly do his laundry. I wondered what he did, how he did it.

I wondered.

And, without fail, that memory always came back to me, unfurling like smoke. It was the problem that I couldn't get rid of - the itch that I could never quite reach. Even after so many years, even after the features of everyone else in Konoha had blurred in my memory, it remained vivid - dyed into me like a bright, indelible stain.

It was like prayer-wheel spinning constantly to the heavens, no beginning or ending, a reel of footage that played me to sleep each night and continued through my dreams.

---------

I was thirteen at the time, and it had become clear to me that I had to leave. I could see no other way to raise my level. Any reasonable methods were too slow, too unsure. I set about secretly planning my escape, mapped the routes I could take, scoured the family's dusty scrolls for any jutsu that could possibly help me in my journey.

I was prepared. However, when the perfect time arrived, it wasn't quite right for some reason. I didn't feel ready.

Everything had to be right, so I waited one day, and then another.

Ramen cravings started to overwhelm me every day at dinnertime, or so I told myself as I sat down at that familiar counter.

I would have to increase my endurance in anticipation of future hardship, so I went daily to the training grounds and worked for hours, eyes darting in search of someone who never came.

After a day stretched into a week of waiting, I put my pack on my back, and went for one last bowl of ramen. If I put it off any longer and the rains started, one of the roads I meant to take would become impassible. The typhoon season had begun, and it was pure luck that the weather had not yet changed.

That night, Naruto appeared like a whirlwind. He was dirty and slightly bruised from a training trip with the toad-sennin, and nodded at me, a little surprised to see me sitting at his usual spot at the counter. I snorted at this confirmation that the ramen stand really was his first stop whenever he returned to Konoha. He beamed, waved his arms around, and loudly pronounced himself able to defeat me with his newfound, amazing skills.

Drunk on energy, he shouted his order over the counter. Then he nodded at me, sat down next to me and started being as obnoxious and loud as he usually was.

In that stall - with the smell of the coming rains hanging in the air, and Naruto next to me still sweaty from his training - I relaxed on the stool and ordered another bowl, feeling inexplicably relieved. I watched the glare of fluorescent light bounce off the scarred counter, and inhaled the warm, savory steam that rose from our food. I listened to the sound of his voice as he continued to speak to me with a mouthful of noodles. He leveled his chopsticks at me with his usual lack of manners and, as usual, wouldn't shut up.

Sitting there, surrounded with those sights, smells, and sounds, I made a silent wish that I didn't have words for at the time.

Eating never took him long, and when he noticed the bag I had with me, he started badgering me about it. I'd been expecting that. I guess that some part of me had been waiting for him to notice.

I realized, belatedly, that this was that one last thing I'd needed to do.

Not meeting his eyes, I told him that I was going on a training trip, but I would be coming home soon.

I made very sure to tell him I would be coming home, not stopping to think about what that meant. We sat together for a few more minutes. He complained loudly that I was just trying to get one up on him, since he'd gained such strength on his trip. I smirked a little, and slowly finished my ramen. After the last bite, I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of the broth warm me completely in a way I hadn't noticed before.

And that was it.

What a strange thing to fixate on, I thought in the years following. It seemed unreal, like fragments of another person's memories. An uneasy friendship. A strange warmth. A moment in a bright place before the rains began.

A promise that wasn't consciously planned, but had to be made before going - even if both parties involved were too young, dumb and clueless to see it for what it was.

After that, I never strayed until I reached my goal. I wonder now, if he had said something, if he had noticed. . .

But he is Naruto, and Naruto rarely sees what he doesn't want to.

That night, when I snuck past the gate guards, I didn't mind that it had started to rain. I blinked the blurring drops of water from my eyes, and straightened my shoulders.

I was a thirteen-year-old boy, a little scared to be leaving home, and a little scared of dying. But, that evening, I had done my last important thing.

I steeled myself against the cold, and I didn't look back.

----------

After I killed that man, I did come home.

Years of the same dream, of those last moments, had slowly shown me what home meant to me. I'd waited all that time so I could finish the business of the past and keep my promise. However, with that knowledge came the sick certainty that it was too late.

He was Hokage. I'd committed too many crimes against the Leaf in my time away. I'd transgressed, burning bridges behind me. It was impossible that the silent wish I'd made so long ago would become real.

My victory against Itachi tasted of ashes. Even if Naruto could forgive me, the Hokage couldn't. He would have none of me - an S-class criminal. A murderer. A traitor.

It was with dread that I went with the Anbu to see him after I got back. And he was. . . he'd become everything I'd known he would, but there was a hardness in his eyes that I'd never seen before when he looked at me. Something in him had compressed into diamond strength.

He had become a leader, and I'd missed all of it.

I hid my shame and my happiness at the sight of him, grown and strong and perfect. I concealed my hunger as I'd hidden everything else, trying hard not to stare. Without a single doubt, I confirmed that what I'd grown to suspect wasn't just a momentary madness - but I forced it all into a bitter ball in my stomach, and tried not let on.

But I couldn't freeze the blood that rushed in my veins. I couldn't stop the way my eyelids fluttered closed, or the shivering hitch in my breath when he laid his warm hands on my skin. He checked the curse seal with a competence that surprised me, making some observations in a low, clipped voice to a thoughtful-looking advisor.

When I looked up at him then, maybe he saw. Maybe he didn't. Some things never change; Naruto rarely sees what he doesn't want to.

"Uchiha, go home," he said with a note of finality, "don't even think about going anywhere without getting approval first. You are not permitted to do anything without Anbu escort." He turned to the tall, masked young man at his side. "Konohamaru, look after this for me will ya?"

"Sure thing, Chief."

I glared at the smooth, wooden mask the Anbu wore as he moved to grip my elbow. I'd known this was coming, but it stung more than I thought it would. And home. . . home meant nothing if he wasn't going to be there.

But he was the Hokage, and he was handing me off like I was nobody. It was like he hadn't spent his childhood calling me a bastard and trying to defeat me - like he didn't know me better than anyone else ever could.

He had no idea what it meant to me when I heard the contrast between the stiff way he spoke to me, and the easy warmth in his voice when he addressed the Anbu captain.

I narrowed my eyes, wanting to protest the note of accusation in his voice even though I didn't have a leg to stand on.

He didn't need to keep me on a leash, because I never wanted to leave again.

"I'm not a dog," I said coldly, speaking for the first time since I laid eyes on him again. The others in the room stepped back at the danger in my voice. They were frightened of me, but Naruto. . . Naruto never was scared of me, even when he should have been.

That was when his head came up, attention turned from the document someone had handed him.

He looked at me for real, and for once he was like the Naruto I'd left behind - all reaction and blazing blue eyes. "I know that, Uchiha," he bit out with a shadow of his former temper. "Dogs are loyal." Then, I saw the anger, all that intensity that I remembered. All that passion, directed at me, for all the wrong reasons.

For all the reasons I had made with my own hands.

He got to his feet and looked directly at me, and for once, I was rendered unable to meet his glare when I heard the leashed rage in his voice. "Don't ever push me, you bastard. I was this close to getting rid of you for good. Be glad about your precious bloodline, because that's what tipped the scale."

His voice shook, and the two words that caught in my throat were never going to be enough. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides.

"You killed everyone I sent after you," he went on. "People who stayed and worked with me every day to make Konoha what it is. Iruka-sensei wanted to talk to you even after you attacked the Leaf; he wanted to bring you back because he thought you were still the Sasuke he knew. I told him not to bother, but he thought it was worth the risk, and he worried about you." That endless blue burned into me, even though I couldn't see it. "You gutted him like a fish. Get out of my sight, before I change my fucking mind." He paused. "There's only one reason you're alive right now."

I managed a smirk. "Yeah, one reason," I managed dully, finally able to meet those challenging eyes. "The one reason I'm alive," I repeated under my breath. The words were bitter and half-swallowed, sounding more like an accusation than the unintentional confession that they were. But I was glad to see that, to all appearances, Naruto wasn't going to look underneath my words. He was still a bit oblivious. My stomach felt tight and queasy.

I'd been blind to the one thing that mattered. It had seemed so close that night years ago. I'd been surrounded by the clatter of chopsticks, the warmth of the ramen stall, and Naruto had been smiling at me for no reason besides the fact that we were best rivals, eating ramen together. Back then, we'd each have died before we'd allow the other's ass to be kicked by anyone else.

But that night, I chose my path, and 'as usual' became 'never again.'

I didn't even know the name for what I felt then.

I closed my eyes - these eyes that can penetrate and mimic anything. I couldn't stand to see how badly I'd fucked everything up.

Naruto rarely sees what he doesn't want to.

And now, he doesn't look at me at all.

----------

After that meeting, I returned to my house, feeling too defeated to give the Anbu who followed even a bit of trouble. The place had been vandalized. Years of damage stood unrepaired, and the walls were painted with slurs that I deserved.

I was in no mood to deal with it. Not when, under my clothes, the skin he'd touched still tingled. I imagined I could feel the chakra he'd used to test the long-dead seal buzz through my body. His hand-prints seemed burned into me, like I'd been marked. Despite my guilt, I resented it. I resented being kenneled like a bad dog, and left to whine after him.

I unearthed some pretty foul sake that had been left in a cupboard since forever, and proceeded to drink it while I searched for something to sleep on in the barren closets.

And suddenly, Sakura was there, inching towards me in the dark. For whatever reason, she and Shikamaru ended up dragging me outside with them. And afterwards, we somehow ended up in her apartment and alone. She sat close to me, and it was the wrong voice saying the right words. Saying that I was forgiven.

For the first time, I thought I understood her a little. It was hard to be in love with someone who didn't even want to look at you.

The sake I'd been drinking burned sweet in my belly, making everything blur together.

I remembered how good she was with genjutsu, and the idea seemed all right at the time. I could allow myself this one small thing. We could both pretend. This was the one thing we had in common - we both wondered what it was like to be in love, but not completely alone. We would both know it was false, underneath - but we could try not to know.

It was all wrong, but after that night, we couldn't stop ourselves. I couldn't stop myself, even though the final moment always forced me to to see what we were, and what we were doing. It was twisted and frightening; his false form gazing at me with her hunger. I'd been repulsed when I first saw that look on her when we were children, and I'd laughed when he tried that ridiculous jutsu against me. But, like this, the both of us could imagine that we were getting at least part of what we needed.

It wasn't the real thing, but it was close enough. Love, through a fish-eye lens.

In the end, it surprised me that she had more pride than I did. In the end, she - perfectly ordinary, and without my supposed insight - saw what I couldn't.

Every step that led me here seemed perfectly reasonable, but now I am in a dark place from which I see no escape. People don't fall from grace all at once. They cross one line at a time. I can only see how far I've descended when I look up and notice that the sun seems so much further away than it used to be.

It was slow and sweet, like going to sleep. It was the dream that I didn't want to awaken from. And now, the light I always wanted to hold has become a star outside my reach.

But I fell once, with a force that still surprises me. I was young, but my eyelids were already drifting closed. He couldn't save me because I didn't want to be saved.

I fell once, truly and completely, and there is no helping me now.

So when missions come my way, I complete them. Even though the level of skill required is insulting, I do my duty because he is the village, and the village is him. That's one of the reasons why they made him the Hokage. He has the strength to forgive and make sacrifices for the ones who hurt him. He has the ability to make people see a different way of being. Every single time, he's proven that he is more than he seems to be.

And more importantly, he makes people want to be more than they are.

So maybe, one day, he'll look at me again. That possibility is enough to make me plunge my hands into the walls of the pit I've dug for myself. Just that, alone, gives me a reason to begin to claw my way back out.

A part of me will always be there in that brightly lit stand, basking in the glow of an almost-friendship, and hesitating on the border of that first line. A part of me will always be waiting for him to hear what I'm scared to say.

And, despite everything that I've done, I hope some small part of him is still there too.

----------------------

AN - I haven't written anything for ages, and when I found a few paragraphs of this kicking around, I thought it might be good to start up slow with something that wouldn't strain my pathetically weak wrists too much. Anyway, I messed with the first part quite a bit to fill it out and mesh it a little better with this. I never planned for a.o.t. to be more than one part, and I guess it isn't really. They are more like two oneshots. Or something.

Maybe one day a long time from now I'll do Naruto's part.

Thanks for bothering to read this,

- V

Back to team seven
Back to the main page