Chapter Text
“Maybe he has lips like cod roe…cod roe...cod roe…”
“Or maybe he has…buckteeth?”
Buckteeth
Buckteeth
Buckteeth
Naruto’s voice echoed unpleasantly, that self-satisfied smirk burned behind Sasuke’s eyelids, almost as badly as the image of his teacher with two giant, fleshy red lips or oversized teeth like a beaver’s—
“He doesn’t have giant lips,” Sasuke told himself through gritted teeth. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, and as tired as he was, his mind wouldn’t stop racing. “He doesn’t have giant lips.”
“How do you know?” countered Naruto’s voice, Naruto’s very, very annoying voice which should not have been filling his head at any time, let alone this late at night. Should he go for a run? Commit to one hundred pushups and exhaust himself into not thinking about lips or buckteeth, by Kami.
“We would be able to see the outline of them behind the mask,” mumbled Sasuke to no one. “I can see the outline of his nose and mouth. He has a totally normal nose and mouth.”
“Kakashi-sensei is smart,” Sakura’s voice joined the fray, and Sasuke groaned, shoving his face into his pillow. “What if his mask uses some sort of disguise jutsu?”
His sleep had been completely fucked up since leaving the hospital. Since being woken up from the torture-induced coma, Sasuke felt tired all of the time, but it was like his body wouldn’t allow it. When he did sleep, it was nightmare after nightmare of the bloody deaths in his clan’s compound, swords slicing through flesh and dark red
stains
against
the walls.
This was only marginally better.
“Why would anyone waste chakra on a disguise jutsu underneath a mask?” Sasuke asked aloud.
“Kakashi-sensei is always running out of chakra—”
Sasuke pressed his hands against his ears, which felt like a step too far. Naruto and Sakura weren’t actually in his house; they’d all split after their embarrassing failure, the failure that Sasuke couldn’t seem to shake off, no matter how many times he tried.
“What? You wanted to see what’s behind this mask?”
Humiliating, even. He was an Uchiha. He was supposed to be the best of the best.
“Behind this mask…there happens to be another mask!”
Sasuke’s face burned. Kakashi’s laugh, echoed in his ears, along with his own crushing disappointment, the stupid hope he’d allowed himself to build—never in his life had he felt like such a child, such an embarrassment, not even—
“Foolish little brother,” a familiar voice sneered. “To not even be able to see what’s underneath your teacher’s mask. I would be able to see what was under that mask.”
Sasuke scowled at the ceiling. Itachi probably would be able to see under Kakashi’s mask, especially since he’d managed to knock the man out into his own coma. Itachi had put Kakashi under the same type of genjutsu, and what, Sasuke was supposed to learn from him? That was supposed to be good enough training?
He’d tried giving Kakashi the benefit of the doubt, but it was obvious that the man didn’t want to be their teacher. It was obvious he felt saddled with three genin he didn’t want or like, and sure, the month Sasuke had spent learning Chidori almost convinced him otherwise, but Mr. Teamwork had totally abandoned Naruto during the same month, and he’d beat Neji.
Naruto beat Neji. Sasuke hadn’t even gotten to see the match, and his Chidori had proved nearly useless against Gaara’s sand, another enemy that Naruto had managed to defeat.
Naruto couldn’t see behind Kakashi’s mask, either, thought Sasuke, which was such a depressing counterargument that he buried his face even deeper into the pillow. He shouldn’t be comparing himself to someone like Naruto. He was supposed to be better, faster, stronger, sharper—
“To abduct Naruto is the number one priority of the Akatsuki.”
His stomach and head churned. He wanted to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, images of his parent’s bodies and blood splattered against the floor now had Kakashi’s stupid face in them, fish lips bulging out and giant teeth chattering.
“Behind this mask…there happens to be another mask!”
Sasuke gripped the palms of his hands hard enough to break skin. He’d gotten his hopes up. Like a fool, he’d gotten his hopes up. That maybe, if they showed their stupid teamwork-sensei how willing they were to use said teamwork, Kakashi might show them. Or even better, that they really had improved enough to catch a glimpse on their own.
Instead of fat lips or buckteeth, Sasuke pictured another Sharingan bulging out from underneath the mask, hidden where no one might think to look. Two, three more Sharingan for Sharingan no Kakashi, a face filled with Sharingan like some fucked up skin disease.
“Foolish little brother,” said Itachi’s cold voice. “So weak that you cannot see what lies underneath your teacher’s mask. I myself have seen what lies underneath his mask—”
Sasuke’s eyes snapped open.
“No,” he said aloud. “There’s no way.”
What if, what if. Sasuke thought the voices couldn’t get any louder, the embarrassment and anger swirling through him, too weak to see under his stupid mask, and Itachi is targeting Naruto, and suddenly he could see Itachi walking towards his unconscious teacher, cruelly pulling down the mask to abate his own sick curiosity—
“If that man has seen under the mask,” said Sasuke, eyes twitching. He hadn’t slept for longer than five minutes in about seventy-two hours. “I’m going to jump off Hokage Mountain.”
No one answered him. No one except “buckteeth, buckteeth, what if Kakashi-sensei has buckteeth, what if he’s got a bright pink beard or a tongue like a frog or no teeth at all, hey Sasuke, what if he doesn’t have any teeth or he just has one really, sharp tooth sticking out in the middle—”
It was so much harder to tune Naruto out when he was tired. And suddenly, Sasuke’s bare feet were on his cold, wooden floor.
“Gotta know,” he murmured, delirious, stumbling out from his room. “Gotta know. Gotta know. Gonna jump off the mountain.”
Objectively, Sasuke knew he shouldn’t jump off any mountain. But he couldn’t get the image of Itachi out of his head, worse than it had ever been, bloodied hands and also pulling down Kakashi’s mask.
“Yes, little brother. I have seen your precious sensei’s face. I, alone, know the secrets of his face, secrets you couldn’t begin to guess—”
Sasuke was staring at his front door. “Fuck,” he said, slipping his sandals on. “Fuck.”
Even in his half-asleep state, Sasuke remembered where Kakashi lived; it was where he’d found him unconscious, after all, with only a few, precious seconds before he’d learned who the perpetrator was. He didn’t pass anyone in the late—or at this point, early hour—taking care to stick to the tree line, hands sweating and shaking.
“Maybe he has lips like cod roe…cod roe...cod roe…”
He was going to kill Naruto, Kakashi, Itachi, and then jump off of Hokage Mountain, in that order, oh yes, wouldn’t they love that? The last Uchiha, finally succumbed to madness, and Sasuke brainstormed ways that he might also destroy his Sharingan on the way down so no one could steal them out of his head when he found himself outside of Kakashi’s apartment.
He probably has traps set up, thought Sasuke, before throwing the man’s windows open and jumping inside anyway.
A cloud of smoke rose up, stinging his eyes and burning his hands, but he took a stubborn step forward. “Gotta know,” he mumbled. “Gotta know.”
“Sasuke?!”
Sasuke looked up. There was a kunai pointed at his face, which really wasn’t too surprising. Even less surprising at this point—
“You sleep in it, too?” Sasuke blinked, tears rolling down his face. From the smoke. Just the smoke. “Of course you sleep in it.”
“Sasuke?” Kakashi lowered the kunai but didn’t put it away. The red Sharingan swirled at him lazily. Did the Sharingans under his mask swirl, too? Did they all swirl together? “Did something happen?”
His teacher’s bedspread had a shuriken pattern on it. It was sort of cute, Sasuke thought tiredly, although the rest of the apartment was depressing as hell. His mask was attached to a tank top, because of course it was.
He heard Kakashi mutter “kai!” but Sasuke wasn’t a genjutsu. He didn’t think so, anyway. His stomach hurt too much. “We’re complete failures,” he declared monotonously. “We shouldn’t even have the right to call ourselves ninja.”
Was that fair to Naruto and Sakura? They’d sucked just as much as him at seeing under the mask. Maybe Naruto hadn’t really beaten Neji or Gaara, if he couldn’t even see under a stupid mask. “What’s the point of all of this training? What’s the point of any of it?”
“Failures? Sasuke, what are you talking about?”
Mortifyingly, his entire body was shaking. Everything he’d been obsessing over since running into Itachi and the coma finally coming together with every ounce of ire aimed at himself and the thin piece of fabric covering Kakashi’s face—actually, if he could just—
Sasuke took a flying leap at his teacher who yelped and rolled over, both of them crashing off the bed and onto the floor, as Sasuke struggled to find his grip. No height difference now, thought Sasuke deliriously, pulling wherever he could.
“I gotta see it,” he panted, as Kakashi pushed him back. “I gotta see it, I gotta see it—”
“Sasuke,” Kakashi was saying, Sharingan still swirling. “Did someone compel you to come over here? I’m not sensing any disruption in your chakra—ow!”
Sasuke stuck his elbow in Kakashi’s stomach. The next second, he was lifted into the air, held at arm’s length. “What,” said Kakashi. “Are you doing.”
Failure, thought Sasuke. I’m a complete failure of a ninja. And then, weirdly, he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying to inhale, obviously, but every inhale was accompanied by foolish little brother and his mom’s dead body and every exhale he could hear Naruto snicker, buckteeth, fish lips, fish lips, buckteeth.
“Hold on, can you hear my voice? Focus on my voice, Sasuke, alright? Can you breathe in with me?”
Buckteeth, fish lips, a tongue like Orochimaru’s, too long and dexterous, reaching for him in Sasuke’s nightmares along with everything else. A bright red beard, stained with blood.
“Come on, breathe with me, okay?”
Breathe in, and it was Itachi. Breathe out, and—
Sasuke gasped for air, fists clenched. Kakashi’s eyes were wide and way too close, and Sasuke could probably reach for the mask now, but it was so stupid. He was so stupid.
“What’s stupid?” asked Kakashi. Sasuke hadn’t realized he’s spoken out loud and wondered if jumping off of the Yondaime’s head still wasn’t an option.
“We really tried, you know,” wheezed Sasuke. “We tried working together, too, but it wasn’t enough, and if our teamwork’s no good, then what else are we supposed to do? I can’t even grab it on my own, not even by surprise—how the hell am I supposed to fight my brother?” He gasped for air again, eyes stinging. “How can I fight that man when I can’t even see under your fucking mask?!”
He hiccuped and slumped over. Kakashi’s arms had slackened. “My…mask?” Sasuke heard. “You’re this upset about my mask?”
Rage seared through him, sudden and hot, and Sasuke flung himself forward again letting out a yell. Hands diving directly at the piece of fabric, but Kakashi was blocking him easily. Too easily, too easily, too weak. “Let me go!” Sasuke screamed. “Let me see your face!”
“Why do you want to see my face?” asked Kakashi, far too calmly in Sasuke’s opinion. Not when he was imagining how he could push the man out of his own window. “It’s my face. You have your own face.”
Oh, this is it, thought Sasuke. This is the end. “You knew we were trying to see under your mask,” Sasuke gasped. “We worked together.”
“You didn’t use any ninjutsu,” he heard Kakashi say. “You’re not using any now—and that’s not an invitation, by the way. I happen to like my apartment. You could’ve poisoned me, instead of buying me ramen. You could’ve tried burning my clothes, instead of having Naruto spill tea on me.”
Kakashi’s dark eye met his own, somehow relaxed and stern at the same time. “If you really wanted to see what’s under my mask, you could.”
Sasuke bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, heart pounding furiously. “Then I’m not mentally strong enough,” he said, breaths ragged and uneven. “And that’s even worse.” He lunged forward again.
“Not trying to murder your poor sensei doesn’t mean that you’re weak, Sasuke.” Kakashi clicked his teeth together, buckteeth, buckteeth, while holding Sasuke back. “Maa, I thought we were having a bit of fun today.”
“Fun?” Sasuke repeated. “Fun?!” The room was spinning again, his chest clenching painfully, stomach and head aching like they had since he’d woken up at the goddam hospital. “He’s going to kill me, and he’s going to kill Naruto, too, and the Chidori didn’t work, and he kicked your ass, so how are you supposed to help me get stronger? I’m still so weak.”
Was he crying? It would be a thousand times more embarrassing if he was crying, but Sasuke couldn’t force his eyes open to tell. He felt Kakashi’s arms still.
“I think this is about more than my mask,” he said quietly, which was totally not true. If Sasuke could just see under Kakashi’s mask, this would be completely avoidable. “You had a run in with Itachi, too, and I should have talked to you about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to see under your mask.”
“He’s a strong opponent, but he’s not invincible. You shouldn’t expect yourself to fight him, much less kill him right now. No one is asking that of you.”
He is, thought Sasuke, eyes still squeezed shut. He wants me to fight and kill him, but he knows I’m too weak.
Kakashi sighed. “And you’re right, he got to me, too. But you’re underestimating me if you think that means anything I could teach you is useless.”
“It is useless,” said Sasuke. “Unless it lets me see underneath your mask.”
“Did Naruto put you up to this somehow?” Kakashi asked, and then Sasuke let out a laugh, which seemed to startle Kakashi more than anything else had. “Neither of you know when to let something go. Maa, all three of you—”
“I want to see.”
“Sasuke, it’s obvious this is more—”
“Let me see it.”
“We can re-start your training tomorrow,” Kakashi was saying, but Sasuke’s ears were filled with white noise. With the bright line of focus he’d suddenly acquired, nothing else mattered. The nausea in his stomach would go away. He would be able to sleep, sleep, Sasuke was sure of it, and if he could sleep, maybe he wouldn’t fall over as much, which would probably be better for fighting Itachi.
“If you show me your face,” said Sasuke, head between his knees. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll stay here forever. I won’t look for help training or power anywhere else. I’ll take every dumbass mission where we clean a farm or walk someone’s fucking dog.” He let out a high-pitched wheeze, aware of how pathetic he sounded but unable to do anything about it.
Silence met his proclamation. Sasuke was a few seconds from taking another dive at the mask himself, or use a fireball, consequences be damned, when Kakashi responded.
“Look at me.”
As much as he didn’t want to, as embarrassing as this whole thing was, Sasuke did. He couldn’t read the strange expression on Kakashi’s face, although surely it would be easier with more skin to see. “Do you mean that?” Kakashi finally asked.
“You’re not even taking me seriously—”
“Dead serious, Sasuke,” said Kakashi lightly. There was something under the lightness that Sasuke was too exhausted to pick out. “You’ll do, what was that, anything I want if I show you my face? Such as staying in Konoha and not seeking out power anywhere else, or from anyone else?”
It’s a trick, Sasuke’s brain screamed, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered. “I promise,” said Sasuke. “On my honor as an Uchiha.”
It sounded stupid as soon as Sasuke said it out loud, but both of Kakashi’s mismatched eyes widened anyway. “And you weren’t drugged? You’re not on drugs right now?”
“Kakashi.”
“No one snuck anything into your food while you weren’t looking?”
“Kakashi-sensei.”
Kakashi looked up once at the ceiling, muttered something under his breath, and then stared at Sasuke’s stupid, watery eyes. “I’m holding you to that promise,” he said, before sliding the mask off.
He did it, he actually did it, I’m looking at his face, I’m looking at it, take that Naruto, take that Itachi, I’m really looking.
No buckteeth. No fish lips, although Sasuke’s Sharingan both whirled to life to sniff out any disguises just in case. A regular nose, a regular mouth, a regular chin, albeit with a small mole or freckle—
“What the hell?” asked Sasuke blankly. “There’s nothing wrong with your face.”
“Did you think there was something wrong with my face?”
No buckteeth, no fish lips, and no extra set of Sharingan lurking. A regular face. A boring, regular, face pinched with a mix of annoyance and concern, which Sasuke could see because he was looking at Kakashi’s face.
“I’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to expectations,” Kakashi started, but then a laugh peeled through Sasuke, and then another one, and then Sasuke was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Again. “Um.”
“You have a totally normal face,” Sasuke gasped. “Totally normal.”
“Sasuke—”
But Sasuke was back on the floor, unsure how he’d gotten there. Face pressed against the floor, his own face, hiccupping and laughing, smiling splitting his face in half, his own face, and there was Kakashi’s face, he could still see it, staring at him, and Sasuke laughed even harder.
Take that, he thought, the past seventy-two hours without sleep crashing into him like a freight train. He couldn’t stop the sounds careening out of him, giggles and near-howls, in between gulps for air. Take that Naruto, take that Sakura, fuck you Itachi, I’m looking at his face right now, and you’re not.
Well, Sasuke wasn’t looking at his face anymore, because his vision was starting to blacken around the edges, blurring out the periphery as he wheezed. Blacking and blurring and oh, he was about to
pass
out—
Maybe that’s why sensei keeps his face covered, was Sasuke’s last, delirious thought. For our own protection.
And he didn’t even need the Sharingan.
**
Kakashi’s newly unconscious student had broken into his apartment, probably sustaining first degree burns from the exploding tags he hadn’t managed to dodge, and was now curled up comatose on the floor with singed pajamas and two-mismatched socks after laughing so hard at Kakashi’s uncovered face that he’d passed out.
Oh, his former classmates would certainly have something to say about how that had gone. No one had laughed at him like that in a long time. Kakashi would try not to take it personally.
“Minato-sensei,” said Kakashi, sighing and slipping his mask back on. The sun would be rising, soon. The Godaime was expecting him to report for a new mission, and his ankle was still throbbing from the last one.
“I’m not even sure you’d have an answer for this.”
Chapter 2
Summary:
“Orochimaru-sama has given you some time to think it over,” said the one with two heads. “That time is up.”
“I’m not interested,” said Sasuke. Or he’d tried. Whatever they’d injected him with, whatever he’d inhaled, was sending his thoughts into the stratosphere and gallons of saliva into his mouth. He was going to choke on his own spit at this rate; a miserable end for a miserable failure who might have even said yes to the Sannin’s offer if he hadn’t accidentally staked his honor on a promise to see his teacher’s stupid face.
At least he would die with that knowledge. Naruto and Sakura would never be allowed to see it, not at this rate. Kakashi would consider it a death sentence.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Buckteeth…fish lips…fish lips…buckteeth.
No, thought Sasuke, feeling a strange victory even in this half-awake state. Naruto was wrong. That was comforting, somehow, like a mistake had been corrected in the greater universe. Naruto was wrong. Because Naruto hadn’t seen underneath Kakashi’s mask, and Sasuke—
Sasuke’s eyes flung open. With a sharp inhale, he jolted forward, where am I, where am I, on an unfamiliar bed with an almost-familiar shuriken bedspread.
Oh, he thought, taking in the apartment walls. Oh no.
He needed to run before Kakashi returned. Light streamed in through the window blinds, so maybe the man had started his day doing whatever he did before showing up late? Maybe Sasuke would be lucky enough to escape unscathed, even as his ears burned remembering the state he’d been in the night before, exhausted and out-of-his-mind.
I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.
One foot on the wooden floor, Sasuke was about to fling himself back out of the window, additional traps be damned, when familiar footfalls echoed around the corner. “Maa, I was wondering when you would wake up.”
I’m going to die, thought Sasuke, without any sense of irony. Kakashi was walking towards him, still in his tank top from the night before, the same tank top that attached to his mask.
Sasuke looked at the mask, then looked away.
Kakashi coughed.
“Breakfast,” he said, and Sasuke didn’t want breakfast; Sasuke wanted to turn the clock back twelve hours or give himself a lobotomy, but he was pretty hungry. The tray of food smelled good. For some reason, Sasuke assumed Kakashi exclusively ate ration bars or some weird, IV nutrition that didn’t involve using one’s mouth at all.
The mouth covered by his mask.
The mouth—
“Thanks,” mumbled Sasuke. He stared at the golden egg perched on top of his bowl of rice and remembered picturing a Sharingan where Kakashi’s mouth should be. A gleaming, shiny red Sharingan, just like the one now hidden by his headband. “You can cook?”
“It’s a raw egg,” said Kakashi. “Not much cooking involved.”
The silence was dreadful. But now that Sasuke was thinking about it, he couldn’t stop. He’d behaved like a child. A demented, ridiculous child. Part of him wanted to blame Naruto for putting the idea in his head, but then, Naruto wasn’t the one who’d broken into their teacher’s apartment.
Then again, Naruto wasn’t the one who’d seen Kakashi’s boring face under his mask.
Sasuke had.
It was a small consolation, but Sasuke started eating anyway. Maybe he could work on developing a genjutsu so strong that it would erase Kakashi’s memory of this entire thing happening. And also his memory of Sasuke’s entire, worthless existence.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Kakashi eventually.
“No.” Sasuke couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him breakfast. No, it was that he did remember; he remembered his mom cooking him breakfast and fixing his bento box before school the morning of—
You cannot have another breakdown, Sasuke instructed himself sternly, wondering where the fuck all of his self-preservation went. At least Kakashi looked lost, too. The supposed genius, Sharingan no Kakashi himself, brought down by a thirteen-year-old who kept hallucinating fish fucking lips and buckteeth.
“Okay,” said Kakashi. “I do feel obligated to remind you of the promise you made, though.”
Sasuke picked at his rice, trying to remember making a promise. He was remembering a lot of stuff he’d rather not, including some very inefficient taijutsu moves that would need to be ironed out in training. Plenty of ramblings had poured out of his mouth that Sasuke actually felt he was better off not thinking of, thank you, just in case there was any chance of walking away with some dignity.
Did I agree to walk his dogs? Did I—
Oh.
“Oh,” said Sasuke, refusing to look up from his food. “Right.”
“Were you considering seeking greater strength or power outside of the village?” asked Kakashi lightly, the same lilting tone he’d used right before tormenting him, Naruto, and Sakura with those stupid bells.
“No,” said Sasuke. “I don’t know.” Had he? It was like he’d been totally possessed. All of these thoughts he’d never dare voice aloud suddenly stumbled up through his lips.
He was so angry at Itachi. But he was always angry at Itachi, and he was even angrier at himself for still being so weak—too weak to see underneath the mask, for one, but also Naruto had beaten Gaara and Neji—and even more than that, Sasuke realized, the last grains of rice gone from his bowl, he was angry at Kakashi.
He was angry at Kakashi for ending up in the same torture-induced coma. He was angry at Kakashi for losing.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” said Sasuke. “I don’t feel like I’m getting stronger. When that man was my age, he—”
Sasuke looked up. Kakashi was still in the tank top, still connected to the mask, but his brain finally pieced together the mark he’d noticed in passing the night before. There was a flame tattoo on Kakashi’s pale arm. “You were an ANBU Black Ops.”
“I—uh, yes.”
“When?”
“I left a few years ago,” said Kakashi, and Sasuke’s chest constricted.
“Did you know him?”
Kakashi looked like he wanted to say who very badly, but thankfully for both of them, refrained. “I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have wanted me to?” asked Kakashi, sounding genuinely surprised. Surprised. “You don’t even speak his name out loud.”
Sasuke opened his mouth and closed it. Even after sleeping a few hours, he still felt exhausted, still worn down around the edges, angry at Kakashi for losing and for so obviously not wanting them as a team, but would he have wanted to hear anything about his brother from the man who read erotic fiction while fighting them?
No, probably not. But now Sasuke knew there was more to Kakashi than met the eye. He’d also seen it, himself. “Did he ever see underneath your mask?”
Kakashi blinked.
“What’s with the pause?” asked Sasuke, when far too much time had passed. “He hasn’t, has he? Why aren’t you saying no?!”
“I don’t…think so?”
Sasuke slammed his hands against the empty food tray, rattling the empty bowl and chopsticks, stomach aching furiously with this new information. Could Itachi have gone so far as to sneak a look when they’d been comrades? No, Kakashi would know in that case—so, an injury? Some sort of fight, where anyone might have seen underneath the fabric and the porcelain mask to administer aid?
“Mask aside,” said Kakashi, eyeing Sasuke’s fists. Like there was anything more important than Itachi maybe having seen his face before Sasuke could. “I understand how you feel, but you are getting stronger. Much stronger. Not everyone could have mastered Chidori in under a month.”
Right. Sasuke had almost forgotten about that. “I don’t know if it’s enough,” said Sasuke. “You were assigned as my teacher because of the Sharingan, right? But his Sharingan is stronger.”
Kakashi sighed and leaned his head back against the wall opposite Sasuke. “I’d like you to have some faith in me,” he said, sidestepping the first question. “And yourself, for that matter. Like anything, the Sharingan has its own set of strengths and weaknesses. On the other hand, not every weapon in your arsenal will or should rely on the Sharingan.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to me about it?” asked Sasuke. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to have left via defenestration like, immediately upon waking. But he also had just learned more about Kakashi in the past twenty minutes than the months of being a supposed team. “I don’t even know how you have a Sharingan.”
“Oh,” said Kakashi. Then, maddeningly—“Really?”
“What’s that supposed to—”
“Maa, nothing. I didn’t—I thought you knew. Or I would’ve said something sooner.” Kakashi’s visible eye frowned. “Did you think I’d acquired it by force?”
I wouldn’t fucking know, would I? thought Sasuke, but Kakashi looked so weirdly downcast by the idea, like foreign ninja weren’t trying to rip each other’s eyes out all the goddam time, that he just shrugged.
“It was a gift,” said Kakashi finally. Those four words were probably all that Sasuke was going to get.
There was another obvious problem, though, that Sasuke had been trying to ignore. No matter how strong Kakashi was, Sharingan or no, Itachi had a leg up on all of them. A leg called apparently, if you murder your best friend, the eye unlocks an additional level, and it wasn’t like Sasuke even had a best friend, okay?
No one’s blond hair and whiskered face drifted briefly into his consciousness, with an obnoxious smile and cheerful “dattebayo!”
Nope, not at all.
Anyway, even being ex-ANBU, Sasuke couldn’t fathom Kakashi ever cold-heartedly murdering someone he was close to. Maybe accidentally murdering Gai, considering how annoying he was, but if Kakashi couldn’t unlock the infamous Mangekyo Sharingan, then how was Sasuke supposed to figure it out?
How was he supposed to—
“I won’t deny that Itachi is strong opponent,” said Kakashi, bringing Sasuke back to reality. Reality, right, where Sasuke had broken into his apartment. “I underestimated him.”
A hard look settled into the corner of Kakashi’s visible face, the first he’d seen where Sasuke thought, shit, ex-ANBU, and saw what so many enemies seemed to see in his slouching, forever-tardy teacher.
“It won’t happen again,” said Kakashi. He stood up. “I was supposed to be in the Hokage’s office an hour ago,” he said, voice back to its bored normal. “We’ll start training both of our Sharingan. I also have a list of fire and lightening jutsu, then I think you could make some progress on earth.”
He was back in his blues, ANBU tattoo hidden once again, as Sasuke blinked and found himself wondering if he’d worn three masks during his time as a black ops member. Maybe if he had, then there was nothing to worry about from the Itachi end.
“Wait,” said Sasuke. Fire, lightening, and—“Earth jutsu?”
Kakashi was already halfway out his own window, hands in the pocket of his vest. “Get ready,” he said cheerfully. “Also, you should probably get those burns taken care of. You’ll want to be at your best.”
Sasuke was left alone.
Shit, Sasuke thought, looking down at his singed sleeves and shiny, red hands. Right, because he’d broken into his teacher’s apartment. To see his face. He’d seen Kakashi’s face.
“Still worth it,” he said aloud, to no one, standing up. A weird, giddy relief surged through Sasuke that he refused to examine or name.
--
Orochimaru, as it turned out, didn’t care much about half-baked promises.
Not Sasuke’s, anyway, as he stared up bleeding from the floor at the four shadows looming over him. One had two heads. The other had several sets of arms.
“Orochimaru-sama has given you some time to think it over,” said the one with two heads. “That time is up.”
“I’m not interested,” said Sasuke. Or he’d tried. Whatever they’d injected him with, whatever he’d inhaled, was sending his thoughts into the stratosphere and gallons of saliva into his mouth. He was going to choke on his own spit at this rate; a miserable end for a miserable failure who might have even said yes to the Sannin’s offer if he hadn’t accidentally staked his honor on a promise to see his teacher’s stupid face.
At least he would die with that knowledge. Naruto and Sakura would never be allowed to see it, not at this rate. Kakashi would consider it a death sentence.
A wheeze escaped his mouth, and then another one, as the man with several arms kicked his ribs. “Maybe we should rephrase ourselves,” he said. “You’re coming with us, whether you want to or not.”
Another kick. Then Sasuke was being lifted off the floor, arms twisted behind his back so hard that he could feel his shoulders pop out, and he screamed. The girl shoved a bundle of cloth in his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed. “We didn’t come all this way so you could rebuke Orochimaru-sama, you little punk.”
The cloth was drenched with something wet. Sasuke could feel a terrible numbness spread throughout his body, cold from his throat to his fingers and toes. He wondered where Naruto and Sakura were. He almost wondered if they would miss him.
“Tayuya…can’t make him…pills…second stage…won’t work…”
“Bring him there…Orochimaru…deal with it…”
His final thought before blacking out was an apology, because he’d really meant to stick to his promise. He’d meant for his word as the last Uchiha to mean something, but Orochimaru’s servants wouldn’t even let him have that.
--
Blood splattered walls…red eyes, swirling with a pinwheel pattern…a red full moon.
“You are not even worth killing.”
A warm, summer afternoon…the sound of metal flying…a flick against his forehead.
“Someday, when you have the same eyes as mine, you will find me again.”
Sasuke’s toe itched.
He tried to reach for it, to give it a good scratch, but his hand didn’t seem to want to move. Sasuke tried kicking next, like maybe the itch would dissolve. Kick, kick. His foot barely moved.
Now two of his toes itched.
Two toes. His earlobe. His earlobe? Sasuke didn’t think he’d ever had an itchy earlobe before, but now it was burning, a low fuzz of aggrieved, awakened nerve cells chomping at the bit for his attention.
“What?” Sasuke murmured to his angry little cells. Or tried, anyway. It came out all funny and slurred. “What do you want?”
Shit, was that his head? Was his head the thing pounding so awfully, sending shocks of pain down his dango body? Just balls of rice flour, covered in a sticky syrup that kept Sasuke from being able to open his eyes.
Eyes?
“Someday, when you have the same eyes as mine, you will find me again.”
Sasuke opened his eyes.
The world was dark, but a few blinks confirmed that his eyesight still worked. Even without trying, he knew the Sharingan was a world away from what this dumpling, dango body was capable of. Sasuke pictured his brother sliding off pieces of him from a stick, with his teeth, chewing and chewing before the final swallow.
Why didn’t you just kill me? Why do you want me to find you again?
He couldn’t move his hands. He could almost move his feet, if he concentrated very hard, but concentrating sent horrible waves of pain down deep into his bones.
What happened? Was he in his bed? Sasuke couldn’t be in his bed, could he? There was too much movement.
Movement?
His foot was pressed against something. A wall? A lid? Sasuke tried to move it, ignoring the waves of nausea and pain.
Clunk. Clunk.
It was like a five-thousand-pound iron was weighing him down. Every movement was agonizing, and Sasuke didn’t think he was making enough progress to be worth it, but what else could he do?
The walls around him stopped moving. And Sasuke was able to dislodge the wall above him.
“—uke…back…won’t…”
He could hear voices, but they blended together into a muddled soup his brain refused to make sense of.
Two voices.
No, three voices?
Sasuke was attempting to crawl out of the container he’d been put in, why, who, how, or maybe more importantly now, where, because he was not in his bedroom nor Konoha at all.
A field of grass.
Three blurry figures: orange, purple, and green.
He could feel them reaching towards him.
Not again, thought Sasuke grimly, using the last of his strength to pull himself to his feet and start to run. Well, stumble, since he still had no feeling in his arms, and his feet and legs screamed with the effort. But if Sasuke remembered correctly, the last thing he’d been worrying about had been dying and he still didn’t want to die, thank you, not in this weird field anyway, so he ignored the pain and forced himself forward.
Someone was shouting at him to wait. Sasuke knew, without a doubt, that if he stopped moving he was never getting up again, ever.
That was the only reason he made it as far as he did: out of the grass and into the trees, and trees meant Konoha. Konoha was a place he’d promised to stay, for some reason, even though walking its streets sometimes felt a little like swallowing glass. It felt like a hundred paper cuts, all at the same time.
He missed his mom and dad.
Why didn’t you just kill me? Why do you want me to find you again?
Sasuke’s useless, lead legs tripped over a tree root.
His ribs hurt.
His eyes closed.
Only for what felt like a second later, someone tackled him.
They both went flying, Sasuke and the orange blur, and Sasuke decided that this would be a stupid fucking way to die after all, so he kicked and kicked with all of his strength. The orange blur yelled back at him, but Sasuke’s ears kept ringing. Afraid and angry and tired, he was so tired of passing out, and he thought he was doing alright until the orange blur held down his legs and Sasuke remembered that he couldn’t lift his arms.
“—ke! Calm—!”
The voice scratched a familiar itch. Like the itch in Sasuke’s left toe, or the itch on his nose before he was about to sneeze.
His vision finally cleared. “Naruto?”
“Who else?!” Naruto, the orange blur, of course, was leaning over him, eyes suspiciously wet. “You know, you really freaked out Sakura-chan, she’s super upset ‘ttebayo!”
Sasuke looked around, still disoriented, but feeling less like he would float away with the slightest breeze. “Why are we in a tree?”
“You should tell me! You just took off like that, but you were running funny and in the wrong direction, and this guy with weird bones tried to stop me, but then Bushy Brow showed up so I was able to run after you, except I kinda thought you’d run faster so I ran past you the first time, and—”
“I saw under Kakashi-sensei’s mask,” said Sasuke.
Naruto blinked at him. Sasuke figured he could die now with a little less regret. “You—what?!”
Sasuke tuned the rest of his words out, allowing them to wash over him, even as they grew more and more frantic. There was some shaking involved. But Sasuke’s shoulders were dislocated, which appeared to upset Naruto—Sasuke wouldn’t know. His arms were still numb.
“—sensei!”
Another blur, this one grey. They were moving again, no longer in the tree, and Sasuke blinked slowly, wondering when that had changed.
“—out of his mind, I don’t—he said something—your mask—crazy—”
“That would be crazy,” said the voice suddenly next to Sasuke’s ear, calm and measured and familiar.
I was going to tell him something, thought Sasuke, before falling unconscious yet again.
--
The next time Sasuke woke up, fortunately or unfortunately, his body was no longer numb. On one hand, it meant he could actually move his head to acknowledge the Godaime Hokage looming over him and at least pretend to nod along to her explanation of what happened.
On the other hand, everything hurt.
It still wasn’t as bad as waking up after Itachi, though.
“The drug is almost through your system,” said Tsunade. “Once it passes, it’ll be easier to treat your other wounds, but you’re not in bad shape, kid.”
Kid. Sasuke wanted to scoff. But all he could do was nod again and then pretend to be asleep when Sakura came by.
What was he supposed to say to her? He could count on one hand the number of actual conversations they’d had, and all of them had occurred when someone was literally dying. Sasuke knew she’d practically held vigil over his comatose body during those weeks, but he hated the idea of it, hated anyone sitting there when he couldn’t see them or fight them.
You promised you’d stay here, though, a voice reminded him, sounding like a particularly horrible combination of his brother and Kakashi. That means you’ll stay burdened with these weaklings on your team.
Okay, that was more Itachi.
Sasuke laid still and fought the urge to groan. He’d put together that a mission had been undertaken to rescue him, but no one had explained who’d managed to defeat the ridiculously strong Sound ninja who’d showed up to kick his ass. Surely not Naruto, alone or with help. Kakashi? Other jonin?
“You?”
Shikamaru, wearing a chunin vest, blinked at him. After fake-sleeping through Sakura’s visit, he’d felt awkwardly obliged to be awake when Nara Shikamaru, of all people, walked in. Call him curious.
But then Shikamaru was talking about the mission, trying to give an update about Neji and Choji—Neji? Choji? “You made chunin?”
Shikamaru looked down at his vest, as if it were self-explanatory. It was certainly fucking not. “When? Why?”
“Recently,” said Shikamaru. “This was my first time leading a mission.” Then, more dryly. “You’ll have to ask Tsunade-sama about why.”
Shikamaru made chunin. Shikamaru had, apparently, been the only one to make chunin, even though Naruto had won his fight with Neji and Gaara, like, existed. Shikamaru had also apparently led himself, Choji, Neji, Kiba, and Naruto to not only rescue Sasuke from the Sound ninja but kill all of them.
“Suna sent some backup,” said Shikamaru nonchalantly, like he wasn’t blowing up Sasuke’s entire grasp on reality. “But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Neji and Choji didn’t have backup. But they both just came out of surgery.” He exhaled quietly. “They both survived. I thought you should know.”
Know, which part? That Akimichi Choji had managed to kill an enemy who’d stuffed him in a pot to hand-deliver to Orochimaru? He might’ve guessed that Neji outclassed him in some ways, but then, this was the same Neji who’d been defeated by Naruto.
It should’ve burned. And maybe it did, the shame and embarrassment at his own weakness. The lengths he still had to go.
On the other hand…
I’m lucky, thought Sasuke. It doesn’t sound like Orochimaru has much power to be handing out, does it?
Was that the best of the Sound Village? Taken out by genin and a fresh chunin? Despite himself, Sasuke grinned, which probably wasn’t the response Shikamaru expected or wanted.
“Are they still here in the hospital?”
“What?”
“Neji and Choji.”
“Yeah,” said Shikamaru. “They’ll continue to be monitored. Kiba got released this morning, though. And I’m surprised Naruto hasn’t barged his way in here, yet.”
Sasuke was slightly surprised, too. “Good,” said Sasuke. He felt a little like he’d avoided a disaster of epic proportions, something he wouldn’t have been able to walk away from. He felt a little like he’d avoided fate. He felt a little like kissing Choji on the mouth, which meant the drugs probably weren’t completely out of his system yet.
“I’d like to send them some flowers.”
Notes:
the butterfly effect begins to take grip~
up next: three other povs to sasuke's completely normal behavior <3