Chapter Text
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The pipe above Sasuke's head has been actively dripping — with what he told himself was water — for the past couple of hours at the very least. At first, it was a minor inconvenience, but the longer the relentless noise continued, the more it irked him.
He had half a mind to kick the entire pipe clean off, but then he'd have a different problem; that water — it was definitely water — spilling on out like a dam split open by autumn rains.
No, better to leave it alone, he thought. Better not try to struggle against those restraints, that already flayed his wrists raw. The rusty metal was loose enough to allow for some wiggle room, and coincidentally — most certainly on purpose — loose enough for the rough material to scrape skin every time he moved. As if his captor had shackled him with sandpaper deliberately.
This was all so stupid. So pointless.
He had never been more furious with himself. Him, Uchiha Fucking Sasuke, in captured.
By a moron, no less.
No — worse.
By an insane moron.
He had no memory of the fight with this man. He hadn't even seen his attacker's face, only ever heard his voice through the bars of his enclosure, though this bastard had made sure to darken the room every time he entered it. This, Sasuke figured, had served two real purposes; one, Sasuke could not hold eye-contact with somebody he could not see, and thus, could not trap them in a genjutsu. And two, he could never see this man and allow his features to be etched in his mind for eternity.
Because he was going to get out of here. And when — because it was a when and not an if — he does, he will find this man. And make sure he wishes he'd never been born.
Sasuke's list of people he wished to murder for wronging him was steadily growing, but this cockroach who imprisoned him, chained him to a wall and fed him scraps, had officially made the top of the shitlist.
This room he was trapped in, this cage, wasn't large by any means. Only enough for him to not be able to reach the bars separating him from the entrance; only enough to keep that man out of his reach. No windows, no way to tell the time of day or any hints of his location.
No vents.
No holes.
No way out but that door.
He groaned as he let his head drop against the cold, mossy concrete as he wriggled his fingers ever so slightly. His chains have been suspended a couple feet above him; which essentially never allowed him to drop his hands under shoulder height. If he wished to get any blood flow to his fingers, he needed to lean forward — already painful due to the sandpaper he had for shackles — and twist his arm upwards until his elbows had been raised higher than his wrists.
As time passed, that anger, that blazing wrath in his chest violent and all consuming, had only festered. When he got out, when he got his hands on that cretin, there'd be nothing of him left. Nothing but limbs, guts and viscera strewn across the floor of this wretched place.
Oh, yes. It will be beautiful.
And as he gasped for air, crawled at Sasuke's feet, begged for mercy, the bastard would understand — truly, fully comprehend — why no one. No one. Crossed Uchiha Sasuke.
The door — that door, the only way out — had groaned open with its usual bone-jarring screech, it always did. He had been used to this routine.
Steps. Door. Lights.
Then, food.
Sometimes nothing, but heavy breathing for minutes. Sasuke had tried taunting it before to no avail. The only thing he ever received in turn was hushed, excited laughter, as if his emotional turmoil was fine entertainment for this sick fuck.
This time though, the guy went off-script. As the door had opened — not opened, swung, hard enough to slam into the wall behind it, a tall, large silhouette passed the threshold of the room. The Uchiha boy could scarcely believe it. This was it. His chance. He'd finally—
His breath caught in his throat.
No.
No way.
He searched for his visitor's gaze, just wanting one look his way… and most painfully was only met with empty orbs. No pupil, no iris. Just white, foggy vacancy. He was blind.
The figure dragging himself across the floor was massive, his steps heavy enough to shake the room. The rags clinging to his frame were barely clothes, torn and threadbare, stretched thin over a body built of brute force. Muscle upon muscle, grotesquely oversized, his head too small for the rest of him. His arms were a patchwork of scars, so densely layered it was hard to find a single inch of untouched skin.
Sasuke somehow knew instantly — this was not him. This was not the man who stood outside his cage, leering, panting, taunting.
No. This one was a subordinate. A tool.
Something twisted in Sasuke's chest, something tight, sharp and utterly unwelcome. Something he'd rather not name. The stranger lumbered closer, his thick, stubby fingers fiddled with the keychain on his belt. It was only now that Sasuke noticed, he was carrying something. Something large, wrapped in white—
Wait, fuck. That's not something.
That's someone.
The boy's jaw grew taut, teeth clenched so tight the pressure crept up into his temples as the cage slowly opened. He strained against his shackles, the pain shooting up his arms relentlessly at the meagre attempt, even if it had taken all of his willpower and strength to try.
He stilled when the large man dropped the weight he carried like a bag of rice. The body hit the floor with a soft thump, limp and unmoving, Sasuke couldn't even be sure it wasn't already a corpse. He stretched his neck to try and get a better glimpse at the pile of white fabric and chocolate brown hair. The cloth had come loose in the fall, revealing a pale shoulder, a wrist, a sliver of bruised skin. No twitch. No groan. No sign of life.
For a blind man, the goliath had made quick work of picking up a second pair of shackles from the floor; grabbing the body — corpse, whatever — by the hair, and hauled it upright, dragging it toward the bars. Head lolled, neck limp, like a puppet with its strings cut.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
He recognised that face.
It has been years since he had seen it, and it sure has changed. The boyish softness was gone. The round cheeks had sharpened into angles, the jaw now defined, porcelain-pale skin mottled with purple and red, scraped raw in places. But even beneath the bruises, with his lip split, and blood crusted along his jawline, Sasuke recognised Hyūga Neji.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" he hissed out. The man didn't answer.
Go fucking figure.
"Hey fatass! I'm talking to you!"
No answer.
He didn't even flinch. His movements remained calm and practiced as he handcuffed Neji — fuck he really was here, wasn't he? — to the bars of this oversized cage. Except, unlike Sasuke, the Hyūga's arms were stretched high above his head, wrists pulled taut, body forced into a posture that forced his spine to be straight. Painful on purpose. Like punishment.
Sasuke stared, heart hammering violently against his ribcage. Neji didn't move. Didn't even twitch.
His head tipped slightly to the side, hair falling over one eye, like a dark curtain. The Uchiha boy couldn't be sure this wasn't just his former comrade's corpse. That uncertainty had what little food he had been given threaten to come right back up.
He barely processed the cage closing. The door screeching. The silence that followed.
Was this a new form of torture? Was he supposed to watch as someone he used to work with, someone he barely knew other than a name, a title — and the blood-boiling arrogance to go with it — and a kekkei genkai, slowly decayed only a mere metre from him?
What the fuck for? What was the aim here?
Why would someone—
His mind screeched to a halt as the faintest groan escaped Neji. His chest hadn't been rising and falling visibly enough, not in the position he was in. But the dead didn't groan. They most certainly didn't try to move and find that they couldn't. Didn't blink, however slowly.
Neji was alive. And returning to cognisance, little by little.
Something in Sasuke's chest unfurled, like a coil wound tight to the point of snapping slowly allowing to stretch out again. Relief, except he didn't want to feel relieved. He shouldn't have cared. He severed those ties years ago.
He wanted to scoff at himself. Ties? What ties did he have with this conceited, overweening asshole?
None. Exactly.
Neji's eyes slowly peered around the room, expression slightly strained, but otherwise hollow, as was his gaze, as if he were still processing, still analysing his predicament. His head lifted, just barely, the scratched metal of his hitai-ate catching the sparse artificial light that filtered through the cracks in the ceiling.
He tried his wrists again, then winced, when the feedback he received from his body was a negative one. A painful one.
Well, as shit as my situation is, at least they didn't tie me up like that.
"There's no point," Sasuke muttered. There was some enjoyment in watching Neji's movement still, lavender eyes widen in shock. Then, slowly, his head turned — just enough to bring Sasuke into view.
Presumably.
"You…?"
Oh how he wished he could have just put his foot through this bastard's skull. What a stupid question. Maybe if he hadn't spoken at all, Sasuke still would've wanted to kick him.
This place had him pent up.
In the end, he didn't attack — how the fuck could he — merely let his head meet the concrete behind him as he observed the other. "Me."
Neji's expression remained infuriatingly blank. Empty.
"What is this place?" he queried, voice hoarse, scraped raw from disuse, but his tone was maddeningly measured. Still that Hyūga calm, like he was above it all — even here, even now.
Sasuke snorted. "Your guess is as good as mine."
No response. And as for Sasuke, well, he refused to offer anything more. He let the silence stretch, heavy and unkind, like everything else in this hellhole. Though he couldn't cling to the quiet for long, when the sound of that dripping pipe relentlessly crawled back to the forefront of his mind.
He exhaled, sharper than he initially intended. "How did you get here?"
Neji didn't speak right away. His gaze lingered on the other. There it was that irritating look. He was analysing him. Like he had always done. Like he thought he knew a single fucking thing.
"I don't remember," he then whispered, and for but a moment something pained and vulnerable flickered across his features. But only for a moment. Still, Sasuke's keen eyes saw. "You?"
"I don't remember," the raven-haired boy echoed, voice falling flat with defeat. "I hardly remember the man who kidnapped me."
"He never…" Neji’s jaw clenched, the muscles twitching beneath his skin. He shut his eyes, tight, as if trying to block out something that had already carved itself into the inside of his skull. He didn’t speak for a long time. When he did, it was like dragging glass across his tongue.
"I never saw his face. Just his hands."
Sasuke tilted his head, brow lifting. "His hands?"
"Yes"
“What were they like?” There was disbelief in his voice, and maybe a hint of mockery.
Neji’s lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, with a voice like frost cracking over stone: "He put them where they didn’t belong."
A heartbeat. Silence. Uncomfortable silence.
“So I tore his finger off with my teeth.”
The silence that followed was different. Not heavy. Not cruel. Just stunned.
And then, without meaning to, without even knowing why, Sasuke laughed. It was short and sharp and ugly, like something broken escaping his chest. But it was real.
That was why they had tied Neji up as if he were a pig bleeding out. What Sasuke thought would be a cruel punishment, truly was punishment. He didn't know much about this boy. Only that he was apparently wicked-powerful, and yet Naruto of all people had defeated him, with a single punch, no less. Some genius he must have been. But credit be given where it's due, this certainly earned him a couple brownie-points in Sasuke's book.
"That is quite all right," he huffed out, shaking his head in gleeful disbelief. "I'll tear off the rest of them."
Neji's brow quirked into an unimpressed arch. "Is that so."
His scepticism irked Sasuke, but it didn't take away that hint of joy the knowledge of his captor suffering brought him.
"Can't let you have all the fun."
Neji’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You have an odd idea of fun."
Sasuke tilted his head, eyes empty, his smile completely gone. "There is satisfaction in revenge. Vindication."
"You would say that." Neji's head slowly dipped forward, as if he were attempting to nod. Not agreement. Not mockery. Just quiet resignation.
And somehow, that calm — that tone — was worse than any insult. The only modicum of emotion he’s gotten from this guy so far, and it was… resignation?
It lit something in Sasuke. Something that had him circling back to that fantasy of kicking him in the face. Hard.