Chapter Text
It begins with three teenagers—three war veterans—standing at the third training ground in front of the memorial stone.
Sasuke glances up at the cloudless sky above them. It feels like a mockery. The sun shines down on the grand stone, illuminating each kanji carved into the surface. Hundreds of names, dating back to the First Hokage’s reign.
Sakura stands on his right, her fingers intertwined with his. Naruto is at his left, their shoulders pressed together. It’s the bottom of the stone where they direct their eyes, where the carved names are the clearest; unlike the others, which have become weathered by time.
Slowly, Naruto kneels down in the grass. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers over one of the names. His blue eyes hold a familiar pain.
Jiraiya. Sasuke watches him mouth the name silently.
Sakura’s hand tightens on his. “It’s been nearly two years,” she whispers. “And it still hurts so much.”
Sasuke has no words to comfort her. All he can do is grip her hand back with the same fierceness. The war has left wounds on them all, many of them still open and bleeding. Some of Sasuke’s are over a decade old, and they still haven’t healed properly. He doesn’t know how to let them.
Time heals all wounds. Whoever said that clearly never experienced true grief.
“I’m glad that it hurts,” Naruto says. “It reminds me they were here. It keeps me from forgetting.”
Sasuke stares down at his best friend’s kneeling form, struck by how much he has changed. All of them have. They are no longer the three children that once sat in this same spot and were declared shinobi; they are older, wiser, wearier. Their hearts are covered with dozens of scars that weren’t there before.
Souvenirs of war. They are a product of the flames that burnt them, the anvil that forged them. The will that made them grow formidable instead of breaking.
Sasuke stares down at the names near the bottom of the stone. Phantom pain shoots through his missing limb. “I wish I could forget.”
Naruto turns to look at him, his lips pulling into a frown. “You don’t mean that.”
Sasuke thinks about a battlefield littered with corpses. He thinks, with an unbearable pain in his heart, of lifeless eyes identical to his. He doesn’t respond.
“None of it is fair,” Sakura says.
Sasuke is forced to repress an insensitive snort. He bites the inside of his cheek. “Of course it isn’t. This world takes. That’s all it’s ever done, and it never stops.”
Naruto glances up at him briefly, his expression pinched, before his gaze returns to the memorial stone. His eyes are distant, half in memory, as he takes in the names of their fallen comrades.
“So many lost,” he says, fingers tracing each individual kanji. “Asuma, Neji, Nagato… Pervy Sage…”
“Itachi,” Sasuke whispers.
His name isn’t on the stone, even though it’s the one that most deserves to be there. Sasuke experiences a sudden intense desire to pull out his kunai, to carve the name into the slab of rock himself.
Sakura shifts closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her touch is a balm to his anger.
“Itachi,” she agrees softly, “and hundreds of others.”
His grief is bone-deep, down to the marrow. Sasuke breathes in the soothing scent of Sakura’s perfume. The sun is warm on his face.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s over. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”
Naruto’s fingers go still on the great stone slab, resting against the name Obito Uchiha, which Kakashi refused to have crossed out. Sasuke sees his shoulders stiffen, his face turned away from the two of them.
“Naruto?” Sakura says as the silence drags out. “What is it?”
Slowly, Naruto turns his head. His blue eyes are gleaming with something, an intensity that wasn’t present a moment before. “Maybe we can change it.”
“What?” Sasuke says, scowling. “What nonsense are you spouting now?”
“Sasuke… what do you know about time travel?”
★
Time travel is a roll of the dice. The dangers and uncertainties involved are innumerable, and they can’t take the risk of sending more than one person back. Not when there’s such a large chance of it going wrong.
In the end, they decide it’s going to be Sasuke.
He’s the obvious choice—either him or Naruto. No disrespect to Sakura, because she’s an impressive shinobi in her own right, but all three of them know without saying that she isn’t the best choice for this. Naruto and Sasuke were the spearheads of the Fourth Shinobi World War—it’s because of them that the world was saved. They’re the ones who are in the best position to make real changes.
Sasuke is of the opinion that Naruto is the best option. But then, his friend proposes a more specific plan: to take down the Akatsuki and dismantle Zetsu’s plans… by infiltrating them from the inside.
“It has to be Sasuke,” Naruto says. “He has the best chance. I’m the jinchuuriki—they’ll try to extract Kurama from me the moment I get near them.”
“And you think they’ll let me join? They’re an organization of S-Rank criminals. I’ll be a twelve-year-old kid.”
“Yeah, but you’re Itachi’s brother. That gives you an in.”
Sasuke’s chest tightens at his brother’s name—at the realization that he might be able to save him. He knows he’s supposed to be doing this for the sake of the whole world, but Sasuke has always been selfish in his desires. His heart betrays him, thinking of a forehead pressed to his.
(I will love you always.)
They don’t tell Kakashi what they’re attempting. As Hokage, he’ll be obligated to stop them. If something goes wrong, or if they are caught, it’s better for him to have plausible deniability.
“It still doesn’t feel right to keep this from him,” Sakura says, weeks later as they’re finalizing the plan. “He’s a member of Team Seven, too. He should be involved.”
“There’s no guarantee he’d agree with us.”
“He would.”
“We don’t know that for sure.” Naruto bites his thumb as he rolls up the scroll in his hands, using his blood to seal it closed. “Besides, if this works then the two of us won’t even remember this. Only Sasuke will.”
Sasuke catches the scroll as Naruto tosses it to him. “Naruto’s right, Sakura—as unbelievable as that sounds.”
“Hey!”
“What we’re trying to do is dangerous. We can’t rely on Kakashi to support us. He’s the Hokage now, not just our sensei. This has to stay between the three of us.”
Sakura gnaws on her bottom lip. “Fine,” she agrees uneasily. “But once we do this, you’re going to be the only one who remembers. You have to promise that you won’t forget us. That Team Seven will stay together.”
Sasuke looks up at her, at the fragility in her eyes. He reaches over to grip her hand. He doesn’t want to lose her—to lose either of them. It took him so long to let himself have this, for him to be able to admit that he wanted it. In whatever world he creates, he’s going to make sure they’re still standing next to him.
“We’ll still be together. I promise.”
★
It takes them four months of extensive research and planning. It’s a miracle Kakashi doesn’t cotton on to them during that time. But finally—finally—they’re ready.
Sakura hugs him tightly before she leaves Sasuke and Naruto to it. Her embrace is warm as she locks her arms around him, her shampoo invading his nose. Normally, her proximity would make him extremely uncomfortable. But this will be the last time he sees her—this version of her—so for once, he leans into the hug instead of away.
“Good luck,” she says, tears in her voice. “Find us again. Don’t you dare let us go.”
Sasuke finds his throat feeling strangely tight. With difficulty, he swallows the emotion down. “I promise.”
She leaves him alone in the empty chamber with Naruto. A few moments later, Sasuke is stripped to his waist, sitting cross-legged on the ground as his friend begins the task of painting the correct seals onto his skin. He has a brief flash of déjà vu, reminded of the time during the chuunin exams when Kakashi sealed his curse mark. Five years ago—it feels like a lifetime.
“It’s a good thing no one can see us now,” Sasuke says, a shadow of a smirk on his lips. “People would talk. What would Hinata say?”
Naruto huffs, his breath fanning against Sasuke’s bare collarbone. “Hilarious. But you’re not even my type. Sorry if I’m bursting any of your fantasies.”
Sasuke rolls his eyes, attempting to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach about what they’re about to do. The feel of the brush against his skin makes him shiver. He can feel Naruto behind him, leaning uncomfortably close. He’s going painstakingly slow, and it makes Sasuke anxious to have someone this close to him—even someone he trusts.
“You’re sure I’ll go back with all of my abilities?” he asks.
“Jeez. Have a little faith in me, would you? I know what I’m doing.”
“It’s time travel, Naruto. None of us know what we’re doing.”
Sasuke hears Naruto sigh, and he once again shivers at the feeling of breath against his skin. “Look, we knew this would be dangerous. But we’ve prepared for weeks now. I wouldn’t let you do this if I wasn’t sure.”
Sasuke doesn’t say anything. Naruto is at the square of his back now, painting slowly down his spine. Sasuke decides to stay quiet. He doesn’t know as much about fuuinjutsu as Naruto, but he knows that there’s no margin for error. Everything has to be perfect. That’s why Naruto’s being so careful—even the slightest alteration, and Sasuke’s soul could end up shredded as it’s forced through time and into his previous body.
He knows the risks. But they’re worth taking. Especially if it means he has a chance to save—
Sasuke cuts the selfish thought off. This isn’t about Itachi, he reminds himself.
After a few more minutes of silence, Naruto speaks up again. There’s a hesitancy to his voice. “Hey, Sasuke… if this works, can I ask you to try and do something for me? Something you probably won’t like?”
Sasuke frowns. “What?”
“Save Nagato.”
Sasuke blinks. He nearly turns around at the words, before quickly reminding himself to stay still. “You’re kidding, right? You want me to save Pain? He’s the one who killed Jiraiya—"
Naruto flinches slightly. “I know. But what happened to him wasn’t all his fault. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just misguided.”
Sasuke shakes his head. Naruto’s compacity for empathy—for forgiveness—will never cease to amaze him.
“Even if that’s true,” he says, “I don’t see how I could change his mind. I’m not like you. I can’t make some impassioned speech to make him magically see the light.”
Naruto is quiet for a moment, continuing to draw symbols down Sasuke’s back. “I understand you might have to kill him,” he says finally. “I’m just asking you to try. Try to save him instead.”
“I’ll try,” Sasuke agrees reluctantly. He exhales quietly. “Next you’ll be asking me to save Obito, too.”
Naruto is suspiciously silent behind him. Sasuke’s eyes widen, turning his head to him.
“No,” Sasuke tells him sharply, astonished that Naruto would even think about asking that of him. “Absolutely not. I don’t care if he eventually changed his mind, he hurt way too many people before it happened.”
“The same could be said of you,” Naruto points out, not unkindly. “I thought you would want to save him. He’s an Uchiha, isn’t he? He’s your family.”
“He’s part of the reason they’re dead. Itachi was forced into it. But Obito was more than happy to help him slaughter them all—and if he hadn’t caused the Nine-Tails to attack, they might have never even tried to attempt a coup—”
Naruto winces. “Okay, I see your point. He’s the reason my parents are dead, too, remember? So I get it. But I was able to look past that.”
“Not everyone can be as forgiving as you, Naruto.”
Naruto’s face twists slightly. He knows the words are true, even if he wishes they weren’t. “Fine,” he says. “You can’t forgive Obito. I understand that. But if you won’t try to save him for his own sake… then do it for Kakashi-sensei.”
Sasuke pauses at the words. He recalls Kakashi’s grief-stricken face on the battlefield—and how familiar that expression looked. Like staring into a mirror. He recalls the man who once explained to him, in halting sentences and a guilt nearly two decades old, how he came to possess the Sharingan.
Kakashi reached out to Sasuke when he had no one—before even Naruto. He saw Sasuke’s anger, his pain, and tried to steer him away from it. Maybe he didn’t do the best job at it, maybe he said the wrong things most times, but he honestly tried. He offered Sasuke a hand, a rope to climb out of the darkness—and in return, Sasuke spat on him.
(Let go of revenge. You’ll only tear yourself apart.
Stop acting like you’re still my sensei.)
Sasuke winces at the memory—at the rush of guilt that accompanies it. It tastes like blood in his mouth and smoke in his eyes, lightning cracking at his fingertips.
Kakashi forgave Sasuke. For him, could Sasuke forgive Obito?
Sasuke ponders the question in silence. He isn’t Naruto—he can’t feel compassion for the person responsible for ripping his family away from him. Sometimes he wishes he was the kind of person who could—who could let go of his anger for the sake of another person. But he just isn’t.
Naruto completes the rest of the seals in silence. Neither of them speaks again, and finally, he finishes.
“Good luck,” Naruto says softly. “And brace yourself. This will probably hurt.”
Naruto presses his palms flat against Sasuke’s back, and light bursts from the seals on his skin. Sasuke gasps, fire roaring through his entire body. It’s agonizing. Flames are licking at his insides, raging in his chest. His soul is being pulled, torn apart, and his vision goes white. He can’t fucking breathe—
★
He wakes up with a gasp, his eyes burning.
He bolts uptight, the memory of white-hot pain lingering in his nerves. The room is dark, and there’s blood in his eyes, obstructing his vision. The sharp burning is dying down now, and Sasuke reaches up with a shaking arm to wipe his eyes.
Reaches up with his left hand.
Sasuke feels a jolt go through him. His Sharingan cuts through the darkness, and he brings his hand out in front of him, staring down at it. His breath catches as he curls his fingers into a fist, then allows them to go loose. He repeats the motion several times.
We did it, Sasuke thinks, reeling at the realization. We actually did it.
Moonlight spills into the room through the window. He’s sitting in his childhood bedroom, under the covers of his bed. He feels as though his breath has been stolen as he takes it all in—the Uchiha crest above the headboard, the photograph of Team 7 on his dresser.
His arm.
It’s so strange—to feel sensation in the limb instead of just the phantom pain he’s felt for the last two years. He stares down at both of his palms as he pulls back his sheets to stand up. His hands are slighter and less-calloused than he remembers, hands of a child rather than a hardened shinobi. There used to be a scar on the back of his right hand that isn’t there anymore.
Sasuke nearly falls when he attempts to stand up, quickly regaining his balance. This smaller body feels awkward, and he isn’t used to it. His bare feet pad across the wood floor, and he stares into the mirror above his dresser. His twelve-year-old self stares back.
We did it, Sasuke thinks again. It worked.
In the mirror, blood stains his face. The young boy that stares back at him has a right eye that burns bright with the Mangekyou—and a left that bears the Rinnegan.
It’s uncanny, seeing that legendary eye peer back at him from a child’s face. So Naruto managed it—he sent him back in his younger body, but with all his abilities intact. His right eye is the Eternal Mangekyou, not just the ordinary Mangekyou—Sasuke can tell by the three-edged shuriken shape inset in the blood-red star.
These aren’t Itachi’s eyes, so the how of it escapes him. But that’s not important.
He deactivates his Sharingan, then reaches up to reposition his bangs, moving his hair so that it’s covering his left eye. He wipes the blood from his face. The image in the mirror moves with him, and it feels like he’s staring at another person entirely.
There’s no curse mark on his shoulder—good. He was sent back early enough, before Orochimaru got to him.
For a moment, he falls back onto the edge of his mattress, taking the room in. He hasn’t seen it since he was thirteen; it was destroyed in Pain’s invasion, and he returned at seventeen to find the entire district reduced to rubble.
He takes every detail of it in—down to the slight dent in the plaster across from him. He tries to remember how it got there, but he can’t. Years have passed; some memories are still sharp, while other ones have blurred.
He turns his eyes to the picture frame on his dresser. The three of them are so young in the photo. And even Kakashi, who was already weighed down by the horrors of war when it was taken, looks lighter somehow. He’s smiling with his visible eye.
It’s the eyes, Sasuke realizes. That’s what makes them look so different.
It’s often said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. And in the years to come, Team 7 would collect dozens of scars on their souls, permanent and immutable. It would show in each of their eyes—the battles they’ve fought and the griefs they’ve suffered and the flames they’ve burned in.
Sasuke realizes, then, that those people are gone. That in travelling back in time, he’s erased them entirely. And in theory, he always knew that travelling back would mean this, but the reality of it hits much harder.
They aren’t dead, he reminds himself, as the sudden crushing feeling of loss threatens to overwhelm him. They’re still here. Different versions of them—but they’re still them.
As an Uchiha, he’s extremely susceptible to strong emotions—especially those concerning the ones he loves. It’s the curse of his bloodline, to feel too deeply, to lose yourself in it, and he struggles to quickly regain control.
He can’t sit around. They were successful. He needs to start moving immediately in his plans—in infiltrating the Akatsuki.
It’s night out. The moon and stars are the only lights in the sky. If he’s going to leave, this is his chance. Few people will be out on the streets during this hour, and the village’s Night Watch has always been extremely incompetent at their jobs. Last time he deserted, he walked right out the front gates and no one stopped him.
Sasuke doesn’t waste any more time thinking. He pulls out a backpack from his closet and begins packing.
He doesn’t take much with him—only what he can carry on his back. Clothes, weapons, provisions. He prepares himself before he goes, knowing he’s going to have a few fights coming up. He wraps his arms and legs in bandages to prevent muscle strain, and he stitches summoning symbols into his armbands. He wraps a few of his shuriken in wire-string before storing them away.
He doesn’t have his sword, which is annoying. He’ll have to steal one from somewhere along the way.
When he has everything he needs, he stares down at the photo of Team 7 on his dresser. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls the picture from the frame and folds it up in his pocket.
He will return to them. Once the Akatsuki are dead.
(Once Itachi is saved.)
He stands in front of the window in his room, his hands around the straps of his backpack on his shoulders, and stares down at the deserted street below. He’s hit with an eerie feeling of déjà vu, recalling the last time he stood in this position. But it’s different this time. He’s not walking into the den of a snake, driven by vengeance. He isn’t severing his bonds.
He thinks about his teammates now tucked away in their beds. Sakura sleeping fitfully, peacefully, still painfully naïve and innocent. Naruto haunted by the emptiness of his small, unkept apartment. Kakashi burdened by memories and ghosts, shaking awake from traumas over a decade old.
Sasuke slips his hand into his pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded picture.
I’ll come back for you. I promise.
He leaves one thing behind as he slips from Konoha, to tell what has happened to him. Pinned to the front door of his house with a kunai.
His Konoha headband, a line drawn straight through the middle.
★
The trek to Amegakure should only take him about a week—but before that, he has another stop.
He takes the familiar path to Oto, traversing the roads easily. He knows every inch of the Hidden Sound after spending three years living there. He knows which places to steer clear of and how to hide himself from sight. Orochimaru has spies everywhere, but Sasuke knows them too, and he’s well-practiced in ducking them.
It takes him a mere two days on foot to reach Orochimaru’s hideout. He has dozens of them scattered throughout the Land of Fire, and even in other lands, but this one is his home base. Sasuke walks straight up to the hideout’s entrance, dispelling the genjutsu that hides it from sight.
It’s an eerie feeling to walk these halls after nearly four years. And in this body, he feels just as he did the first night there.
He takes the stairs that lead deeper down, travelling deeper inside. Eventually he’s intercepted, by a flash of white hair and the glint of glasses.
“Excuse me,” Kabuto says. “But who the hell—"
Sasuke catches him in a genjutsu. He drops to the floor.
He walks the familiar dimly-lit corridor, and it’s like walking in his own shadow. He can feel the echoes in his memory of his feet taking the same steps—the anger and grief that consumed him, the darkness that slowly spread through his soul, freezing him solid.
He enters the room. Orochimaru turns to look at him.
“Sasuke Uchiha,” he says, teeth glinting as his lips curve up. “Isn’t this a surprise.”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course. I’ve been watching you for some time now. I never expected you would come to me.”
Sasuke wishes he was surprised by this, but he isn’t. It’s just like a snake to observe its prey before drawing it in. He wonders how long Orochimaru watched him before making his move during the chuunin exams—weeks, months? Years?
“I wouldn’t look so excited,” Sasuke tells him. “I’m here to kill you, not join you.”
Orochimaru fails to mask his surprise—and incredulity—at this bold declaration. He clearly doesn’t know what to make of this situation, of the object of his desires delivering himself to him and making threats. After a moment, he seems to settle on being amused.
“Kill me? You shouldn’t make threats like that lightly, boy. How did you find out about me?”
Sasuke ignores the question. He looks past Orochimaru, where the man’s old severed hand is displayed like some sort of zombified trophy. It’s the hand that he cut off to escape from Itachi’s genjutsu—and on one of the fingers is his old Akatsuki ring.
“I need a ticket into the Akatsuki,” Sasuke says. “I figure I’ll bring them that ring as proof of your death.”
Orochimaru frowns. “The Akatsuki? Is this about your brother? There are other ways to get to him.”
“Like offering up my body? Did that already. Not interested this time.”
The older man’s body shifts slightly, yellow eyes flashing. “Arrogant brat,” he hisses. “You think you could possibly stand against the likes of me?”
Sasuke unsheathes the sword at his hip. It doesn’t fit in his hand with the same familiarity as Kusanagi, isn’t balanced the same way, but it’ll do in a pinch.
“I killed you once,” he says. “It shouldn’t be too hard to do it again.”
★
With his current abilities, taking down Orochimaru is easy.
Sasuke stares down at the molted body of his former master—at the dozens of dead white snakes surrounding him, the blood painting the walls and floor. Orochimaru’s face is lifeless, blood still leaking out of him and staining the carpet.
Sasuke cleans the blade of his sword on the bedsheets. There’s a single smear of red on his cheek, and he swipes it away with his thumb. There’s no sadness as he looks down at the body, no grief. Orochimaru is a monster, will always be a monster, even despite the fact that he eventually came to stand with Konoha. He should have never been spared, and Sasuke gives him no mercy.
He pulls the Akatsuki ring from Orochimaru’s old severed hand. It’s a slate blue, where Itachi’s had been a deep scarlet. Parts of deadened skin are sticking to it, and Sasuke makes a face as he shoves it in the folds of the cloak he’s wearing.
Disgusting, he thinks, repositioning his bangs over his left eye.
Besides killing Orochimaru, the ring is really just a bonus to coming here—something extra to smooth his way into the Akatsuki’s ranks. What he really came here for is information. As a former Akatsuki member, Orochimaru has a wealth of intel on them—he has dossiers on each of its members. He also has records on their hideouts.
The only members he doesn’t have information on are Kisame and Deidara, who joined the organization after he left—which is why Sasuke had such trouble when he ran into Deidara in his pursuit of Itachi.
With Orochimaru’s compiled files, he has all the information he needs. Not that he didn’t already remember all of it, but it’s been years, and some of it has faded. He passes Kabuto on the way out, still unconscious on the ground.
He considers killing him—but in the end, decides to exercise mercy. He destroys all that is left of Orochimaru’s body, so Kabuto doesn’t infuse himself with his former master’s cells and return with a vengeance.
★
Briefly, as he’s trekking past the borders of Fire Country, Sasuke spares a thought for Team Taka. He feels a flash of guilt, but keeps moving. He doesn’t have the time for them now.
He’ll come back for them too, just like he’ll come back for Naruto and Sakura.
★
It takes him another few days to reach Amegakure. It’s raining when he arrives—a common occurrence—and Sasuke pulls up the hood of his cloak, protecting his hair and hiding his face from sight.
He knows where he’s going. He was once a member of the Akatsuki, after all, even if his time amongst them was extremely short-lived.
The tower where their headquarters are based looms above the entire settlement. The rain pelts down heavily, soaking Sasuke’s cloak. The chill has begun to sink into his bones, leaving him shivering.
It’s dark out—evening, the clouds in the sky blocking out what remains of the sunlight. Sasuke keeps his hand on the hilt of his newly-acquired sword as he approaches the tower, stretching out with his senses as best he can.
A chakra signature brushes against him, extremely close. It’s strong—but he isn’t a sensor, so he can’t tell more than that.
Sasuke’s knuckles tighten around the sword hilt.
The man that lands in front of him is familiar only from his picture in the Bingo Book. He has slicked-back gray hair with distinctive purple eyes, draped in the black-and-red cloak of the Akatsuki. He’s carrying a scythe on his back—three-bladed and red.
When he spots Sasuke, he begins laughing. “It’s a kid! Ha! Aren’t you just adorable!”
Sasuke narrows his eyes. Hidan. Partner to Kakuzu.
Orochimaru didn’t have much data on him—only that he was immortal and couldn’t die, not even by decapitation. Sasuke knows Shikamaru was the one to deal with him originally, blowing his body apart and trapping the pieces underground. Sasuke has no doubt he could defeat him, but it would likely get messy.
And killing him wouldn’t exactly endear Sasuke to the Akatsuki.
After ensuring that his hair is still hiding his Rinnegan, Sasuke throws back his hood and bares his face. The rain continues to pelt down, now hitting his head.
“My name is Sasuke Uchiha. I request an audience with your leader.”
A spark of interest crosses his face. “Uchiha? As in Itachi?”
Sasuke doesn’t answer. Hidan’s grin widens into something unsettling, and he swings his scythe down. It cuts through the air in front of him, imbedding itself in the dirt at Sasuke’s feet.
“I’ll be damned! You’re his spitting image! I thought he sliced up all of your kind! What do you want with Leader-sama, little Uchiha?”
Annoyance flickers through him at the form of address, as well as the words your kind. As if the Uchiha Clan were a breed of animal, not people.
“That’s between me and him,” Sasuke says.
Hidan observes him for a moment. “Huh,” he says. “You know, Leader-sama sent me out here to investigate the approaching chakra signal… but he never said anything about what to do with you. I’ve always wanted to fight with Itachi, but he never reacts to me…”
“My brother’s not the type to indulge idiots.”
Hidan’s eyes light up in glee. “Brother! I knew it! He just has that brotherly vibe to him, you know?”
Sasuke knows the persona Itachi adapted while a member of the Akatsuki, and he’s certain that there was nothing ‘brotherly’ about it. Unless brotherly was beating your younger sibling up and inflicting indescribable mental torture on them.
Hidan pulls his scythe out of the ground, brandishing it with a grin. “What do you say, Sasuke-chan? Want to play a bit?”
Sasuke sighs. The icy raindrops on his face are turning his cheeks numb. “I have no quarrel with you,” he says, even as he prepares to draw his sword.
Hidan shrugs. “Neither do I with you. I just think your blood will look pretty.”
And in a blur, he moves, the three-bladed scythe slicing down.
Sasuke’s sword is already there to block the blow, the loud clang of metal echoing in the air. Sasuke’s small, pubescent body strains beneath the force, his feet skidding back. His arms shake as he struggles to hold the weapon back.
For all the abilities he’s managed to retain, his physical strength is still that of a twelve-year-old.
Sasuke ducks under the scythe before he’s forced to yield. Hidan spins around, matching him strike for strike. Sasuke dances backward, avoiding each attempted slice, and Hidan dances after him. He’s grinning all the while, laughing. At one point, the edge of one of the scythe’s blades knicks Sasuke’s cheek; at the sight of blood, Hidan licks his lips.
Sasuke realizes that this man is quite insane.
It goes on like this for a while—Hidan laughing and chasing him, while Sasuke evades. He shouts all the while about someone called Jashin, which Sasuke manages to gather is some kind of deity that he worships and wants to sacrifice Sasuke to.
It would be easy for Sasuke to light him on fire. Immortality is meaningless against Amaterasu, which can reduce a person entirely to ash. But he needs to join the Akatsuki, and killing one of them won’t be making the best impression.
“Come on, Sasuke-chan!” Hidan laughs. “Let me cut you up! I’ll drain your blood from your body—do you think Itachi will cry—”
The taunts aren’t spoken maliciously or with any sort of heat—he’s having fun. Unlike Deidara, who targeted Sasuke specifically, Hidan seems in it simply for the pleasure of the kill. Blood and violence excite him. Sasuke has fought his like before, and there’s no rationalizing with them.
Sasuke backflips out of the man’s range. The scythe comes down on his head as he rises back up, and he intercepts with his blade just in time. Once again, the metals clash loudly.
Sasuke grits his teeth, his muscles straining. Hidan laughs again, a maniacal sound, and bears down on him harder.
Kusanagi, the blade Orochimaru gifted him with and that he’s been carrying at his hip since he was thirteen, is forged from an extremely strong metal. But unfortunately, this blade is not Kusanagi—it’s a random sword he picked up from a shop in Oto, not worthy enough to be given a name.
The blade is cheap. And as Hidan’s scythe pushes down on it, the metal begins to crack. Lines spiderweb outward, and Sasuke sees the red of his right eye reflected in the surface as the sword snaps—
Piece of garbage, Sasuke thinks viciously, as he’s left holding half a blade and a useless hilt.
The three-bladed scythe rips through Sasuke’s shoulder, through his cloak and across his chest. Sasuke gasps, his vision going white from pain, and Hidan is laughing, his face split in a mad grin. His eyes are glowing with bloodlust.
“Jashin-sama!” he proclaims to the sky. “This is for you!”
He brings his scythe down for a fatal strike, and Sasuke reacts instinctively. His Sharingan twists, as he pushes his chakra out, and his body is consumed by a purple glow. Susano’o rises up around him, first only bones, and then its muscle tendons growing skin. Its indestructible armor wraps around him, shielding him completely.
Hidan’s eyes widen, but he’s not fast enough to halt his strike. His scythe collides with the Susano’o, and he lets out a loud cry as he’s blasted backwards through the air.
Sasuke bends over, pressing his palm against his wound. The cut reaches from his shoulder to partly down his chest, and it’s shredded his black cloak. Blood slips through his fingers, and though the wound definitely isn’t life-threatening, it still stings like hell.
Especially with the rain still pouring down from the sky. Sasuke is completely soaked to the bone by now. The water has caused his hair to stick to his face, which is the only reason his Rinnegan hasn’t been exposed.
Wincing, Sasuke straightens back up. He moves slowly toward his fallen opponent, and the Susano’o moves with him, covering him completely.
Hidan pushes himself up, laughing. “Ha-ha! Would ya look at that! You’re Itachi’s brother for sure!”
The missing-nin bares bloody teeth in a grin. Slowly, strange markings begin to appear on his skin. His entire body becomes black like ink, with white markings on his face and outlining his ribs. He laughs under his breath as he stands, swinging his scythe down—
Chidori Eisou spears him through the waist, cutting him in half.
He lets out a cry of pain as his upper body and lower body fall in different directions. Blood splashes through the air and onto the cement ground. The lightning in Sasuke’s palm crackles and dies.
Hidan’s eyes are still open, his intestines spilling out of his speared body. “You brat! Kakuzu! Kakuzu!”
Sasuke turns at the sound of heavy footsteps. Another Akatsuki member—Kakuzu—is emerging from the entrance. He looks at his partner’s bisected body with a bored expression.
“Good grief,” he says in a deep voice, not paying Sasuke so much as a glance. He doesn’t sound at all concerned, only annoyed. “What did you do now?”
“Hey,” another voice says, also stepping outside the tower. Kisame, Sasuke recognizes immediately. “What’s all this racket about, huh? What happened?”
“My partner is an idiot,” Kakuzu says. “That’s what happened.”
“Ah, nothing new then!”
Kisame walks fully into sight, Samehada thrown over his shoulder. His white eyes dart down to Hidan, who is now screaming at his partner to help him, over to Sasuke. His eyes widen when he sees the Susano’o.
“Hey, isn’t that…”
Sasuke stands tense, frozen. Because wherever Kisame is, usually following after is…
Itachi steps outside after his partner. His eyes lock on his brother immediately. “Sasuke?” he says, sounding as if the name escaped his lips without his permission.
Sasuke feels like all the air has been punched from his chest. Itachi is standing in front of him, so achingly and hauntingly familiar, and Sasuke can’t breathe. He’s just as Sasuke remembers, with his pale skin and dark eyes. The crossed-out hitai-ate around his forehead, the Akatsuki cloak. His dark hair, now being soaked by rain—
Sasuke’s staring at a ghost. He thought he was prepared, but he isn’t.
(Forgive me, Sasuke. But this is it.)
Sasuke deactivates the Susano’o. His Sharingan fades, his right eye returning to black.
“What the hell is going on?” Kisame asks. He turns his head toward his partner. “Itachi! Who’s the kid?”
Itachi is staring at the empty space just occupied by the Susano’o, his eyes wide and shocked.
Somewhere behind them, Hidan is yelling expletives as Kakuzu drags his lower-half to his upper-half, beginning to stitch him up. To Sasuke, their voices are static. He can’t tear his eyes from his brother, who seems shocked into stillness, and the world around the two of them seems to blur until they’re the only ones in it.
Sasuke can taste the smoke on his tongue. Feel the press of two fingers against his forehead.
(Forgive me, Sasuke.)
Something strange overtakes his body, and Sasuke moves without thinking. As if he’s actually the child he looks like, he rushes forward and throws his arms around his brother.
★
Itachi doesn’t smell like soil and death, like he did the last time they were together. He smells the way he used to when Sasuke was a child, like something uniquely Itachi, and for a moment Sasuke lets himself sink into it. His brother is solid against him, and Sasuke can feel the beat of his heart beneath his ear.
Itachi is too shocked to immediately shove him away. His body is as stiff as a rod.
It’s been twelve years since he last hugged him. Possibly longer.
Sasuke steps back quickly, before Itachi can push him off. He quickly regains himself, feeling a rush of embarrassment for his behavior. He’s not actually twelve, he’s nineteen.
“Sorry,” he says, straightening his back and attempting to look dignified. “I got blood all over your cloak.”
Itachi, for the first time in Sasuke’s memory, is at a loss for words. A part of Sasuke relishes in the reaction, taking pride in it. Not many people can say they’ve made Itachi Uchiha speechless.
“Sasuke,” Itachi says finally, in a carefully controlled voice. “What are you—”
A loud, strangled yell cuts his brother off. “Ow! Motherfucker! Stop playing around with my insides and just sew me up, you bastard!”
Sasuke turns his head at the colorful words. Kakuzu is still kneeling by his fallen partner’s side. He’s weaving the two halves of his body together with what looks like wire-string as Hidan writhes beneath him. He isn’t bothering to be gentle, and the ground beneath them is a mess of blood and guts.
“Don’t be a baby,” Kakuzu says, and Hidan lets out another string of curses.
The rain is beginning to let up. Kisame laughs quietly, before pulling his gaze from the pair of them. His eyes glance down toward Sasuke, taking him in.
“You got Hidan good,” he says.
Sasuke shrugs. “He was extremely rude to me.”
Kisame smirks. He turns his attention toward his partner with curious eyes, and Sasuke can see the way Itachi’s shields immediately slam back up. All traces of his shock or any other emotion disappear, and his face becomes utterly blank.
“Itachi,” Kisame says. “You know this brat?”
“No,” Itachi says immediately.
“I’m his younger brother,” Sasuke answers.
Itachi shoots him a deadly look.
Sasuke steps back, out of his brother’s range. He’s unsure of how Itachi is going to react to his presence. He knows his brother cares for him deeply—but he also knows the man has no issue with harming him to keep up his façade.
“Brother!” Kisame says with relish. “I thought you killed all your family!”
It’s only because Sasuke knows his brother’s true feelings that he notices the slightest tensing of Itachi’s shoulders. But for anyone who doesn’t know to look for it, Itachi doesn’t appear to react at all.
“What are you doing here?” Itachi demands, still in that same level voice. “How are you able to use the Susano’o?”
Sasuke fights to steady his heart, which leaps into his throat every time his brother looks at him. He feels pinned beneath his gaze, and he can’t breathe.
(I will love you always.)
“The answer to that should be obvious,” Sasuke says. It’s not the answer Itachi wants, and frustration flashes briefly through his eyes. Sasuke turns to Kisame. “I want to meet with your leader.”
Kisame considers him for a moment, then he shrugs. “Sure. Any particular reason?”
“I wish to join the Akatsuki.”
Itachi’s eyes widen. “What?”
Sasuke ignores him. Mostly because he can’t explain at this moment, but also because looking at him hurts too much and he wants to stop the flood memories flashing behind his eyelids. “I’ve abandoned Konoha, and I want to align myself with your organization. To prove I’m powerful enough to be of use to you, I brought this.”
Sasuke pulls the blue Akatsuki ring from his cloak, wincing as the movement pulls at his wound. Itachi and Kisame’s eyes immediately lock on the object, both flashing with recognition.
“That’s—”
“Orochimaru’s,” Sasuke confirms, returning the ring to his cloak. “I killed him four days ago.”
Shock crosses Itachi’s face again, though less pronounced. Sasuke can see that he’s attempting to grab hold of his usual composure, is trying to settle back into the faux indifference Sasuke forced him to fall out of.
“In that case,” Kisame says, looking as close to impressed as Sasuke’s ever seen him, “I think our leader will definitely want to speak to you. What do you say, Itachi-san?”
Itachi doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his gaze is intense.
Kisame beckons him inside. “Come on, kid. I’ll go get him. Don’t worry about Hidan—he’ll be fine once he’s strung back together.”
Hidan yells again, but cuts himself off with a gasp as Kakuzu twists one of his organs. “Fuck! What the hell, man?!”
“Quit your whining.”
Sasuke walks forward to follow the former Kiri-nin, ignoring the bickering pair behind him. As he passes his brother, Itachi’s hand snaps out and wraps around his upper-arm in a bruising grip. He leans down.
“What are you doing?” Itachi hisses.
Sasuke doesn’t answer. Through the fabric of his cloak, Itachi’s touch burns.
★
He’s led into the large tower used as the organization’s headquarters. Kisame leaves him there to go fetch Nagato, leaving Sasuke alone in the room with Itachi.
His brother is moving the moment Kisame is out of sight, a familiar coldness in his eyes as he advances, grabbing him. Sasuke could evade him—has the speed to—but he lets it happen. Itachi isn’t likely to actually get physically violent with him, not unless Sasuke pushes him into it (like that day in the hallway what feels like so long ago).
“What game are you playing?” Itachi demands. The tone is harsh, but still calm. “You left Konoha? If this is some sort of ploy to kill me, you’re even more foolish than I thought, otouto.”
Sasuke winces. The words—the tone they’re spoken in, the expression on his face—bring up awful memories. Foolish little brother.
For all that Itachi loved him, sometimes Sasuke forgets how cruel he was when he needed to be.
“I’m not here to kill you,” Sasuke says. He grimaces as Itachi’s vice-like grip pulls at the wound on his shoulder. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Not everything is about you, Nii-san.”
Itachi is caught off-guard for a moment. Is it the use of the word Nii-san to address him? He drops his hands, stepping back. A flicker of a frown passes over his lips.
“You’re hurt,” he says.
There’s no concern in the words—it’s a mere observation. Playing the part of a heartless murderer.
Sasuke’s cloak is ripped at the shoulder and partly down his chest, but most of the blood from the injury is invisible against the dark fabric. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just a scratch. It’ll heal.”
Itachi’s mouth seems to pinch slightly, before moving back up to Sasuke’s face. “Why are you here? How did you come to possess those eyes?”
For a moment, Sasuke feels a flash of paranoia, thinking his brother has seen his Rinnegan. He means the Mangekyou, he realizes.
“I’ll tell you everything,” he says. “But only once you drop the act.”
Itachi’s eyes narrow. “Act? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No lies, Itachi. I know everything. We’ve already done this. I’ve watched you fall at my feet—these eyes are yours.”
If Sasuke were a more patient, a more considerate person, he might attempt to ease Itachi into the fact that his twelve-year-old brother is a time-traveler. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t.
“I’m from the future—seven years in the future.”
There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Itachi’s face is unreadable, as he stares at Sasuke. A thousand emotions seem to swirl in the depths of his eyes, and Sasuke can’t read a single one of them.
“You’re what?” he finally says.
“From the future,” Sasuke repeats. Itachi’s tone is dripping with such disbelief that in a different situation, he might have found it comical. “There’s going to be a war in a few years—a goddess is going to try and consume all the chakra from this world. I need to stop it from happening, and to do that I need to kill Zetsu. And preferably the rest of the Akatsuki.”
Itachi doesn’t say anything. Sasuke doesn’t blame him for thinking he sounds insane. Time travel aside, sometimes Sasuke himself still can’t wrap his head around the entire Kaguya ordeal. It sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi flick.
“I know it’s a lot,” Sasuke says. “I can do it alone if I have to, but…”
But I’d rather do it with your help.
Itachi opens his mouth, then closes it again. His mouth twists in a complicated expression. “That isn’t—that’s impossible. Tell me what you’re really doing here now—”
Sasuke’s jaw clenches. “I fucking told you. If you choose not to believe me—”
“You expect me to believe you’re from the future? That’s ridiculous—”
“How else could I use the Susano’o? You saw it yourself! And I know about your damn orders—”
Itachi’s eyes flash. “That doesn’t—” He takes a calming breath, steadying his voice so it returns to its normal quiet volume. “Sasuke, you just… you just barged in here. Trying to get yourself killed…”
“I’m trying to save the world. Are you going to help me, or am I going to have to fight you?”
“You’ll lose.”
“I won’t.”
Itachi’s eyes narrow again at the clear confidence in his voice—but then, the sound of a door opening echoes through the room. Their gazes break, as they both turn toward the noise. Pain has entered the room, walking toward them with a purpose.
He stops less than a foot away. “Sasuke Uchiha,” he says. “Kisame tells me that you’ve requested to join our ranks. And that you’ve disposed of a traitor for us.”
Sasuke attempts to refocus, frustration still burning in his chest. He’d forgotten how his brother had the uncanny ability to rile him up every time they spoke; no one else had ever been able to make him lose his temper so quickly.
Sasuke brings out the ring again, ignoring the sting of pain from his shoulder. “I did. I had a personal score to settle with Orochimaru—he wanted to possess my body, the same as he once wanted with my brother.”
Next to him, Itachi stiffens slightly.
“This is not a surprise,” Pain says. He reaches over to take the ring, examining it closely. “Orochimaru has long coveted the Sharingan. It was that same greed that forced him from this organization four years ago. If it’s true you’ve killed him, you’ve done the Akatsuki a great service. And we will always welcome anyone to our cause.”
“He won’t be any use to us,” Itachi says. “His strength is little.”
Sasuke feels a flare of irritation. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just being overprotective.”
Itachi’s jaw tenses.
Pain turns to look at him. “If he really did kill Orochimaru—and fought with Hidan without being killed—then I fail to see how he could be as weak as you claim. I think he could be of great use to us.”
“He is a child.”
“He is a shinobi,” Pain corrects, “and not much younger than you were when you joined us.”
Itachi is silent. He’s already skating a thin line by protesting at all; to do so any further would reveal a caring that doesn’t match up with the persona he’s crafted.
Pain looks at the ring one last time, before looking down at Sasuke. “If you will excuse me for a moment,” he says. “I will return shortly.”
He pockets Orochimaru’s old ring, turning around and disappearing from the room with a sweep of his robes. Both of the brothers watch him leave.
“He’s going to talk with his leader about this,” Sasuke says, his lip curling at the thought of Obito. “Right?”
Itachi looks at him sharply. “How do you—”
“The future, remember?”
“Right,” Itachi says, in a tone of voice that clearly means you’re full of shit and I don’t believe you for a second.
Sasuke sighs, turning to look at his brother. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”
He doesn’t have time for this disbelief. He said he could do it without Itachi, and he meant that. He’s prepared to do this without his brother if he needs to—but he doesn’t want to.
“I can show you,” Sasuke says. “If that will make you believe me?”
He activates his Sharingan. Itachi looks at him uncertainly for a moment, before inclining his head in permission. He takes a small step forward.
Their eyes lock together. Sasuke delves into Itachi’s mind, opening his own up to him and establishing a link between them. He focuses on the specific memories he wants to show, careful not to let his mind wonder. He projects them toward his brother.
He thinks of a battlefield littered with dead shinobi. He thinks of the Ten-Tails rampaging. Madara Uchiha, now a jinchuuriki, rising into the sky—a blood-red moon shining down on all of them. Kaguya—the Divine Tree sucking the life out of every living soul—
Except that letting someone into your head is a fragile thing. The flow of a person’s thoughts is constant and changing. Itachi is so close, is alive, and Sasuke can’t separate himself from him. Unbidden, other memories flood through the link between them—
(Itachi’s hand wrapping around his throat, lifting him, pinning him to the wall. His voice at his ear and red eyes tearing into him—
—fingers digging into his eye socket, tearing out his eyeball. Blood in his mouth and fire on his tongue, the very heavens held in his palm. Lifeless eyes staring up—
—an orange mask and a single red eye—and truth, finally truth. And pain and grief and sorrow and hate—
I will love you always.)
Itachi jerks away from him with a gasp, his face as pale as a ghost. His eyes are shocked, horrified, his Sharingan activated.
Sasuke deactivates his own Sharingan, also stumbling back slightly. His heart is racing, the phantom emotions still echoing through him, the images flashing behind his eyes. He fights to regain his composure, to shove them away.
He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. I didn’t mean to do that.
When he opens his eyes, Itachi is still staring at him with red eyes. There’s a haunted expression on his face.
“Sasuke,” he says quietly.
Pain reenters the room. Itachi instantly schools himself, his expression wiped clean and settled back into cold indifference. His eyes are back to their natural black. It’s eerie, how instantly and easily he does it.
“Come,” Pain says. “The Akatsuki will make a decision now.”
★
Sasuke finds himself standing below eight figures who are all standing in a circle looking down on him. The entire Akatsuki called before him—except Zetsu and Obito (Tobi) who are missing from the line-up. Six of the figures are physically present, while Deidara and Sasori are only shadowy projections. Perhaps they’re currently away on a mission.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Deidara yells. “You want some brat to join us!”
Sasuke scowls, but doesn’t say anything. They are voting on what to do with him. Hidan is present as well, having been stitched up by his partner. He now looks good as new, apart from a few bloodstains.
“You weren’t much older than him when you joined,” Sasori points out.
“When I was forced to join!” Deidara corrects, shooting a hateful look in Itachi’s direction. He looks back at Sasori. “And whose side are you on anyway, huh?”
Itachi looks completely uncaring of the proceedings, no trace of the shaken man from mere moments ago. Sasuke wonders what’s going on beyond those blank eyes.
“Sasuke Uchiha,” a female voice says. Sasuke turns his head to be met with soft features and purple hair—Konan. “Deidara raises a point. You are very young. Exceptions have been made in the past for a few of our members, but that was only after they had proven themselves superior shinobi. If it’s true you’ve vanquished Orochimaru, then that is indeed a great feat. But how do we know you’re an asset to us?”
“I think my bloodline can attest to my strength,” Sasuke tells her. “I am of the Uchiha Clan. I’m Itachi’s brother.”
There’s a silence around him at the words, all eight of the S-Rank missing-nin contemplating him. Deidara is practically spitting fire with his eyes. Pain considers him with purple eyes identical to the one Sasuke hides behind his hair.
“Well, I’m convinced,” Hidan says.
Deidara spins around to stare at him, his expression twisting in disbelief. “What?!”
Hidan shrugs. “Like he said, he’s Itachi’s brother. That’s good enough for me.”
“You’re kidding, right? He just cut you in half!”
“He did. It was very arousing.”
“Ugh, gross! You have some deep psychological damage—”
Kisame laughs. He bares his sharp teeth in an unsettling grin. “I say let him join,” he says. “It’ll sure make things interesting, that’s for sure. Why, I haven’t seen Itachi-san show so much emotion in the entire three years I’ve worked with him.”
Itachi shoots his partner a dark look, which only serves to make Kisame more amused.
Deidara is seething. “He’s a twelve-year-old kid!”
“Itachi-san was only thirteen when he joined.”
Itachi narrows his eyes at his partner. “Don’t bring me into this.”
“He’s your brother. It’s impossible for us to not bring you into this.”
Deidara growls. “The last thing this organization needs is another Itachi! Goddamn fucking Uchihas coming out of the woodwork—I thought they were extinct! Just because he’s Itachi’s brother, that doesn’t automatically mean he’s strong!”
“My sister was rather kick-ass,” Hidan says. “Of course, I killed her as a sacrifice to Jashin-sama.”
“Oh my god, get help—”
“Enough,” Pain says mildly, but with enough steel behind his tone to make everyone immediately go silent. “No more squabbling. Deidara, you have made your opinion known. I myself am in favor of Sasuke Uchiha joining us. Konan, what about you?”
“No,” Konan says with a frown. “He’s too young.”
“Sasori?”
Sasori shrugs. “I say let him join.”
“Betrayal!” Deidara yells. “From my own partner!”
He is ignored, as Pain turns toward the one person yet to voice their opinion. Itachi’s eyes glow an eerie red in the darkness of the large cavern.
“Itachi,” Pein says. “What do you say? He is your brother. I will take your opinion as having more weight than the others.”
Deidara makes a noise much like a dying cat, but no one pays him any mind. Sasuke looks up at Itachi, trying to read him, but his face is cast in shadow. His cold eyes give nothing away.
For a long moment, he says nothing at all. And when he finally does, he speaks reluctantly. As if the words are being pulled slowly from his throat.
“Yes,” Itachi says. “He can join us.”
Sasuke lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Pain inclines his head. “Very well. Then he shall become a member of the Akatsuki.”
Itachi says nothing, but his jaw is clenched hard. Sasuke thinks he sees his fingers twitching with repressed emotion.
Deidara screeches.
★
Afterward, the rest of the Akatsuki disperse. Konan lingers near Pain—Nagato—whispering something in his ear before leaving. Kisame also makes his exit, but not before saying something to Itachi that makes the man glare at him.
Soon Sasuke is alone in the room with only Pain and his brother.
“The goal of the Akatsuki is to bring peace to the world. To all nations,” the orange-haired man says. “But for this to happen, first the world must experience pain. Only then will the cycle of hatred come to an end. Are you prepared to carry out this will?”
Sasuke keeps his face blank, careful not to show the disdain he feels for the words. He remembers Naruto’s words about how Nagato isn’t a bad person at heart; he attempts to remember that as he looks into the eyes that remind him so much of Madara.
“I am.”
“Good,” Pain says. “Then from this moment on, reject the Hidden Leaf. You are now Sasuke Uchiha of the Akatsuki.”
Noiselessly, Itachi comes to stand by his side. Pain holds out his arm, handing over the spare Akatsuki cloak. In his hand, he also offers a ring—the slate blue one that Sasuke took from Orochimaru.
“Take it,” he says. “This ring and these robes will mark you as a member of the Akatsuki.”
Sasuke feels slightly nauseous. The idea of putting that cloak on brings back memories of the last time he wore it—back when his mind was spiraling, lost in his grief and his rage and his hatred. He never wants to feel that way again.
He glances at his brother next to him, so alive. A testament to all that he’s trying to save. Reluctantly, he reaches out.
“Fine,” Sasuke says, swiping the cloak and ring from Nagato’s hand. “But I’m not painting my damn fingernails.”
★
It’s been agreed that Sasuke will room with Itachi for the time being. Later, the two of them sit together on the bed, and Itachi prepares to clean the wound Hidan’s scythe left in his shoulder. They’re facing each other, their knees brushing.
“This’ll need stitching,” Itachi says quietly, pulling back Sasuke’s robes and examining the injury closely. He fetches a needle and thread, settling back down in front of him quickly.
Sasuke watches him silently. A lit candle is illuminating the room, casting their surroundings in a soft glow. Itachi’s brow is pinched slightly, and his thumb is warm pressing into Sasuke’s bare shoulder.
“All these extraordinary shinobi here,” Sasuke says, “and not a single one who knows medical ninjutsu?”
Itachi shrugs as he readies the needle and thread. “Sasori knows a bit of it, but only the basics. We don’t need healing often.”
His concentration on Sasuke’s shoulder deepens, as he begins to stitch the wound closed. He glances up at Sasuke as he first pokes the needle through his skin, but Sasuke doesn’t react to the pain other than a slight clenching of his jaw.
Itachi sews up his wound in silence. Sasuke can’t tear his eyes from his face. It’s been so long since he’s been allowed to observe his brother up close like this. Twelve years.
Itachi is young, Sasuke realizes. Of course, he already knew this, but it’s different to actually see it. Itachi always seemed so much older than him—always looked older than his real age.
He’s seventeen now. Two years younger than Sasuke.
“Sasuke,” Itachi says quietly, after a moment. He glances up at his brother hesitantly. “About what you showed to me…”
Sasuke stiffens. He knows immediately that his brother isn’t talking about the memories of the Fourth Shinobi World War. He’s talking about the other memories, the ones he hadn’t meant for his brother to see.
(Forgive me, Sasuke. But this is it.)
Sasuke’s throat tightens. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Itachi looks at him a long moment, his face unreadable. “Okay,” he says. “That’s okay.”
Sasuke frowns. “It is?”
“For now… yes. I won’t make you talk about it.”
He goes back to stitching Sasuke’s wound. Sasuke feels something swell in his chest. Something about the easy acquiesce—from the person who has always controlled every one of his choices, refused to allow him a single one of his own—causes tears to sting at his eyes. Sasuke closes his eyes, forcing them away. Pull it together.
“I’ll help you,” Itachi says.
Sasuke opens his eyes at the words. “What?”
“You said you came back here to stop a war, right? I believe you. I’ll help you.”
Sasuke sucks in a quiet breath, not knowing what to say. Itachi isn’t looking at him. His movements are careful, his fingers gentle as he guides the thread. His long bangs are tucked behind his ear, and a single strand slips free, falling into his face.
“I’ve missed you,” Sasuke whispers, the words escaping before he makes the decision to speak them.
Itachi glances up, and his eyes catch Sasuke’s. The candle casts a gentle glow across his face, illuminating his features in startling detail. There’s something fragile about him in this moment, a quiet vulnerability, and it makes Sasuke’s heart ache with something unidentifiable.
“I’ve missed you too,” Itachi says softly, with the ghost of his childhood smile.