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#1 Geno Calamari

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Posted 29 December 2004 - 07:25 AM

This is an idea I came up with for the next piece of Asinine Rationalizations. It's sort of an intermission, where everything's a flashback or a scene that's already happened in the time-line, but deals with a handful of important characters. It's centered around Itachi, because he's the perfect character for what I want to do with my story.

Click For Spoiler

He moved with the casual stride of a warrior, loosly self-aware and yet coiled tightly enough to strike at the slightest provocation. The crowds parted before him, moving aside for the office as much as the heroic man himself.

Despite his seemingly lazy smile and calm demeanor, the Yondaime Hokage was uncomfortable. He hated formal affairs, like the presentation of a Royal Clan heir. It was boring and staid and always took far longer than he believed they should. How many of these had he been to in his short years as Hokage? Three now? Aburame, Taira, and now this one. The Inuzuka clan had been blessed with a girl almost a month ago, so he'd avoid that one for just a little longer.

But he'd have to suffer through this one and it might take some doing to keep smiling throughout this entire ceremony. How much longer would this be? With the speed only the Yellow Flash could achieve, he checked his watch.

Had it only been ten minutes since the elders had begun the speech about loyalty to the clan and the village and responsibility... He squeezed his eyes in a vain attempt to hold back the sudden dizziness that rushed from his skull down his spine. It was a strangely pleasant tingling sensation, that feeling when you were on the border of passing out from boredom.

Keeping himself upright on willpower alone, the blonde man focused all of his attention on the emaciated man speaking on the virtues of self-sacrifice and honor.

"... these are the things that we, as Uchiha, strive to uphold in the village. We are pillars of society, guardians of order and peace. This is the responsibility that will one day be passed on to our youngest generation. Among the most sacred of our burdens is the proper indoctrination of the youth of today..."

He lost track again about there. It was all far too long-winded to be of any use, and Yondaime truly doubted that this small boy was absorbing any of this asinine rhetoric. But the boy stood all the same, straight-backed with an undeniable air of authority for one so young.

Three years old, and the whole weight of the future is on his head. It was sad, really. This boy would never be a child, never play with others his own age, never live and grow as a person should. The way of the ninja was to be his only path in life. The Yellow Flash bit his lip to hold back the bile rising in his throat. No child, no matter how talented or gifted or privileged should be forced to live the life of a killer from his earliest memories. Some might say this was the price of being gifted with one of the most awesome bloodline limits known to shinobi kind, but he disagreed. A child was a child, and especially an Uchiha child, who was nourished with steel and fire instead of love and attention.

It made him so angry that he had to step on Hyuuga Hiashi's foot to get his mind off the injustice of it all. Hiashi didn't react, but Hizashi quirked that funny little smile they shared. The barest flick of the elder's head indicated the beginning of one of their silent arguments. Never had the Hokage known two closer people than the Hyuuga twins.

Mutual assent reached, they chose the dignified route of ignoring the idiotic Hokage.

That made it a challenge.

Five seconds later, although it felt much longer in ninja-time, the Sandaime Hokage had hit the Yellow Flash over the head with his pipe. Mumbling something about 'Setting a good example' and 'You'll catch hell for this,' the elderly man settled back down into his chair behind them and folded his arms. Hyuuga Hiashi grimaced around his bruised ribs while Hyuuga Hizashi allowed himself a rare self-satisfied smile. All's well that ends well, eh Hizashi?

Uchiha Akatori was barely containing his fury. A man who shared more in common with a faceless marble statue than the fire he so professed affinity. But even his stoic nature was crumbling at the hellfire boiling up in him. With a look that plainly said 'Ruin this for my son and I'll kill you,' Akatori glared down the Yellow Flash. It was unnerving, for when Yondaime got into a staring match with someone, he frequently found terror and apprehension in his opponent's visage. Not so with the Uchiha.

But then again, Uchiha Akatori had never been intimidated by the blonde. Especially not in the academy days when Akatori could still keep up, or genin days, when they had been in direct competiton.

Nope. Akatori was no fun at all.

Sighing inaudibly, though every Uchiha in the room could here it, the most powerful man in Konoha focused his attention on the ceremony once again and tried to figure out how far along they had gotten in the proceedings.

"... this is the blessing of childhood, the innocence of spirit and the simplicity of vision..."

Yeah, that same innocence you ruthlessly expunged from this poor boy...

"... that will one day grow to the man that will lead and shape our great clan for the next generation."

Sounds like he's finally wrapping up, Yondaime thought, but then realized that after this gathering, there was a reception. He couldn't afford to miss that. With only a year under his belt as Hokage, he was constantly fighting to maintain his position in the public eye. Without getting out of the office and being seen as a person and more than just a goofy hat, his approval would drop among the shinobi and his people would lose faith in his leadership ability. This ceremony, like the many others in his busy schedule, provided a critical opportunity to get to know the people depending on his guidance and vision as a leader.

Never underestimate the power of the meet-and-greet.

"I give you Itachi, heir to the Clan Uchiha!" And with that, the young boy turned. Calmly turning a face that might have been cute had he smiled toward the crowd, the boy gazed out, his eyes barely higher than the heads of those assembled before him.

"I accept this responsibility," he said softly, without trace of the soft-pallette lisp that children who speak too early develop. For a child of only three, he stood squarely, his face even and his eyes locked straight ahead, a stance drilled into him from hours of practice. Had he not been less than four feet tall, he would have looked commanding, regal even. But now he looked only defiant, like a petulant child being scolded for disobediance.

It was the lack of fire in his eyes that worried Yondaime. He was brainwashed, a perfect servant of the Clan, molded in an image of their design without his own ability for independent reasoning or thought. Had they broken this child's wings before he even learned to fly?

Disgusted, the Yondaime Hokage forgot to applaud. It was only when Chomaru nudged him hard (and for Chomaru, that's hard) that he remembered himself and remembered his station. Putting two hands together, the sound he created was off-beat with the rest of the applause and a bit quieter than the rest, but the sound he created was washed away in the tide.



It's far from finished, and I wrote this in little less than an hour, so I haven't done the spell-checking or grammar-checking necessary for this to be a finished piece. It feels kind of bare-bones to me, but I think I've expressed most of what I want to say here.

Next up:
Those keen blue eyes darted over the Uchiha Head's shoulder, examining something that didn't look away quite as quickly as everyone else did.

"Who is that lovely creature?" the Yondaime Hokage asked, nodding to a young woman half-hiding behind the elder's table, acting as a serving girl for the aged Uchiha. Suddenly, the Hokage hoped he kept the wonder from his words. Not that an Uchiha would be fooled by such a petty omission.

She was indeed a beautiful lady. Her hair was a dark as night itself and had it been undone the Yellow Flash would have bet it fell to her waist. As it was, it was done up in a complicated braid held by two large wooden needles. Her cosmetics were properly applied, lightly blushing her perfect complexion. Full lips pouted almost playfully at him, but it was gone in an instant and the blonde was sure he imagined it. Her onyx eyes met his for just one moment and he felt something electric pass between them.

Akatori glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his old rival's nod. He froze, staring wide-eyed for a second before turning back to his Hokage faster than he intended.

"That," he said with an appreciable amount of menace in his voice, "is my sister."

Well that tears it, the Yondaime Hokage decided, I have to meet her now.
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

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#2 LoveHinaGuy

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Posted 29 December 2004 - 11:49 PM

SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET i would love to read more of this biggrin.gif get the next chap out soon biggrin.gif


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#3 alphabet

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 03:06 AM

FINISH. NOW. I've always wanted a Yondaime story like this, and I like what you're doing. ^^
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#4 Geno Calamari

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 03:09 AM

QUOTE (alphabet @ Dec 29 2004, 11:06 PM)
FINISH.  NOW.


Sweet Jesus. Alright. If it keeps you from gnawing off my arm, then I guess it's going on top of the to-do list. You do know that it's just a subsegment of a chapter in Asinine Rationalizations, right?

I mean, I get some sweet Neji action in there, as well. I also get to lay down some heavy-handed sarcasm/philosophy. But we can't forget the Neji.
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#5 alphabet

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 03:18 AM

Ah, violence works, then. biggrin.gif And don't worry, Geno. I would never gnaw off your arm. . . in public.

And yeah, I know it's just a little thing, but if you add more, then I certainly won't complain. ^^
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#6 Geno Calamari

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 03:20 AM

Eep, alphabet. Just Eep.
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#7 alphabet

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 03:23 AM

XD Alpha, mister. Call me alpha.

Dammit, I hate it when I get all hyper. . . and scare people. . . s'not right. Bah.
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#8 Geno Calamari

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 03:39 AM

Hai hai, Alpha-san. as you wish.

Point of Note: You're hardly frightening from... several hundred/thousand miles away.
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#9 LoveHinaGuy

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Posted 30 December 2004 - 04:22 AM

LOL i dunno if you say something wrong that sevral hundred/tosand miles won't help tongue.gif ne alpha-chan ? tongue.gif but really write more this sounds sweet biggrin.gif


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#10 Geno Calamari

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Posted 04 January 2005 - 09:10 PM

Here's some more scenes, some of which are not finished.
Click For Spoiler

As long as he can remember, Uchiha Itachi has hated the rain.

He is a man that hates a significant number of things in this life, but rain is close to the top. It gets in your eyes, mats down your hair, ruins visibility, and shortens the distance you can throw with a reasonable degree of accuracy. Rain leaves him feeling quenched, putting out the burning fire inside, making him want to get whatever it is he has left to complete done and get home, and reducing him to a smoldering ember. Admittedly, a smoldering ember wrapped in highly volatile explosives, but an ember none-the-less.

It washes off the blood, when all he wants is for everyone to see.

?This! This is what I am!? he wants to tell them, ?And I like it!? but he is too stoic by nature to allow such an outburst. Nor would they be too keen on hearing his declaration? though they would probably find him a necessary abomination and do nothing when their darkest suspicions were confirmed.

He rather liked that word? ?Abomination.? It rolled off the tongue, so strong, so offensive. So accurate.

Thirty-six hours ago, he not-so-subtly threatened his father.

?I guess I?ll drop tomorrow?s mission,? he had said it with all earnestness and truly meant it. His father had been shocked, mortified even. ?I?m going to Sasuke?s entrance ceremony into the ninja academy.? It was a brilliant ploy to force his father into attending the ceremony. If a family member did not pledge for a potential academy student, they were not accepted. In his father?s obsession with his eldest son?s performance, he had neglected his youngest.

Itachi had always found filial piety trite at best and obsequious at worst. Yet another addition to the long list of intolerable things in his life. Perhaps he would create a physical list one day, as a testament to his mentality.

So his father had gone to the entrance ceremony and Itachi had gone to his mission. It was a simple retrieval mission. Get in, get the technique scroll, leave another village?s calling card, get out.

Easy. He?d done it a hundred times before.

He sat, back against a wall, rain pouring down on his head. Any other man might have wondered where it all went wrong. Itachi wasn?t sure it had even started right. The complicated part was getting through the innumerable traps and dozens of enemy jounin guarding this sacred scroll. No extraction, no clear escape routes, no reliable intelligence.

Getting inside the Hidden Village of Mist was never an easy proposition, even when they went so far as to open the front gate and roll out the welcome mat. Even this dreary place hosted the Chuunin Exam, although not with the same frequency as Hidden Leaf and Itachi had never taken it here. Hadn?t taken it more than once anyway?

So half of his four-man team didn?t enter the Village proper. Two of his ANBU stayed outside, slaying the chuunin on guard duty, damaging the massive curtain wall at the boundary with specially designed explosive tags and drawing a significant portion of the Mist-nin to the walls in preparation for an all-out assault. When their position became untenable, they were to pull out and retreat to a predetermined rendezvous position twenty kilometers from Mist Village.

Itachi and the remaining member of the team would proceed to capture the objective and then make for the rendezvous position. If they weren?t back in six hours, then any remaining members of his team were to abort the mission and fall back to Konoha via predetermined routes created to maximize confusion and shake off pursuers.

In retrospect, it had been a wise decision on his part to bring a Branch house Hyuuga along. The Byakugan was perfect for detecting mechanical traps that the Sharingan could not see while Itachi detected any permanent effect ninjutsu traps the other could not observe. They made an oddly well-matched pair in that regard. Also, the Hyuuga provided invaluable information regarding enemy positions, emplacements and movement.

And the Hyuuga was just as expendable as any other ANBU he might have had in his arsenal. It would infuriate the Mist to no end to retrieve a Hyuuga body with rotten eyes. His expression softened from blank to predatory anticipation as he considered what he had to do next.

The Hyuuga sat next to him, his breathing as calm as Itachi?s, though he could not hide his nervousness from the Commander with an infinite number of layers of pride or dignity. The Byakugan, a frighteningly powerful bloodline-limit, pulsated slowly as he refocused his cursed eyes through the low wall behind them to ferret out the positions of those jounin Itachi could sense.

Too many, too close together? he couldn?t quite delineate between one ninja and the next.

The Hyuuga?s fingers flicked a quick slash and then an elegant circle between the middle finger and thumb. The ANBU symbol for ?Surrounded.? Itachi responded by burying his left ring-finger into the knuckle joint of his thumb, then curling his forefinger and smallest finger over the opposable digit.

How many?

There was no delay in the reply. Seventeen. Five of jounin level, four Mist Hunter-nin, and eight chuunin/jounin of undeterminable rank.

He nodded, a sharp burst of motion with the muscles of his neck, by way of acknowledgement. The enemy did not know where they were, Itachi noted, or they would be under constant assault at this very moment. Sparing a second, the Uchiha Commander spun off several mental simulations and considered the outcome of as many different strategies.

A tense thirty seconds passed before the squad-leader decided on a course of action. His fingers flashed through twisted patterns, conveying concepts as easily as words ever could.

Take the side-street. I?ll draw away some. Escape to rendezvous.

There was a momentary hesitation as the Hyuuga absorbed the information, then he signed the word ?Understood.?

Itachi wondered if his subordinate knew he was being sacrificed. The Uchiha carried the scroll, not the Hyuuga. But that was hardly his concern. If the Hyuuga survived, then it would be considered an even greater victory. If he did not, then the mission would still be successful.

Without another sign, Itachi gathered his feet under him and vaulted the low wall into the courtyard and began to run.

***

The first time he ever saw a Sharingan was at the age of four.

A clansman had come in the evening and informed his mother that his father had given his life to preserve the Clan. Neji hadn?t even waited to hear the ?Honorable Sacrifice? rhetoric that inevitably followed such as pronouncement, to give some measure of comfort to the aggrieved, as though it actually mattered.

Hyuuga Neji had sprung out of his chair and run as fast as his short legs would carry him to the Clan meeting hall. The doors were open and light radiated out into the twilight. It was cold outside, but none of the main house members really felt the need to close the door. In truth, after tonight?s turn of events, none had the energy or will to bother closing a door.

In the young branch member dashed, up the long, shallow steps and into the central foyer.

There, his father was arranged on a pallet, his arms laying stoically by his sides, eyes closed and forever darkened. He was dead. Fast-acting, painless poison, his uncle would later tell his mother, knowing full-well that Neji was hiding close by eavesdropping.

His widened eyes failed to register the shock on his elder?s faces as he cried out to his beloved father, running to him and deftly avoiding their hands. They had not expected him to be there and none of them wanted him to observe such a proceeding.

He clung to his father?s clothes, wadding the stiff material in his tiny fists and simply balling his eyes out. It was one thing to be told that his father was going to die and to see him dead. This was so much more personal, so much more real.

?Otou-sama!? he cried, willing his father to wake, to move, to do something, anything, but not to leave him, not like this?

The elders looked to one another, each unsure how to deal with the boy, but too uncomfortable with the situation itself to take immediate action. Hiashi himself looked beyond grief and this was simply grinding away whatever sanity he still possessed.

Then a strong hand affixed itself to Neji?s shoulders and pealed him away from the corpse of his father. As they lifted him bodily, he kicked and struggled and punched with all the energy of a small, angry child, but it did him no good. It was like striking stone, even with his jyuuken, he could do nothing.

He turned to look at his attacker, who would dare touch him and separate him from his father.

His eyes met with the man holding him aloft and he instantly quieted.

They were red as blood, in a way no eye should ever be, and they stared at him with a fiery intensity that scorched his very soul. Three strange black dots whirled slowly about the central pupil in each iris, frightening him even more because things do not spin in a person?s eye. Yet despite the sudden pang of fear and spike of adrenaline, Neji could feel a strange lightness come over his body. It was like these horrible eyes were staring into the depths of his soul and anesthetizing everything that made him a person.

Quieted, the man handed him, still held aloft bodily, to a surprised and nervous Hyuuga Hiashi.

?Commander,? Neji heard, though it sounded as though coming from a million miles away rather from the short old man wearing white robes just a few feet thither. In his dazed state, Neji missed the hint of warning in the old man's tone.

Hiashi fumbled with Neji, unaccustomed to holding a child, finally gripping him under the arms and firmly retrieving him from the demon-eyed man?s grasp. As he pulled him back to the safety of his uncle?s arms, Hyuuga Neji got his first good look at his assailant. A thin, high-boned face with a smooth nose, never broken, stared over his head into his uncle?s eyes impassively. He stood in a calm, neutral stance that Neji did not recognize as a taijutsu position and allowed his arms to fall to his sides when the child was clear of them. His gray hair was tied back behind him, long enough to warrant the usage of a hair-tie at the nape of his neck. The lines on his face were straight and unmarred by the years of combat he had seen, though he looked no older than seventeen to Hyuuga Neji.

But those eyes? The young boy was enough of a prodigy to know that the evil man did something to him, but he had seen no seals, and felt no chakra.

Neji was terrified of this awful boy-man. Something was not right in the way he walked, the way he stood? how easily he moved through the gathering of people to return to the old, robed man?s side. How could the Clan allow such an evil being into its most important building? He did not know and could not think straight.

By the time his head was finally clearing of the mist the demon put there, the ANBU were lifting the pallet from the dais and taking the body of his father with the old man. This old man, as he would learn later on in the evening, was the Sandaime Hokage, the leader of all the ninja in Konoha and the ultimate authority. His dark-haired companion was the ANBU Commander, an adolescent by the name of Uchiha Itachi, the Hokage?s iron right fist. Not another word was said about him, no matter the number of questions Neji asked.

As they passed him, carrying his father out of his sight for the last time, Neji locked eyes with the crimson-eyed man once again.

There was a fleeting moment of understanding, and the last bit of haze in his head blew away as the older man reversed whatever it was he had done.

Just for a second, Neji fancied he saw pity in those vicious eyes. Pity masked by smug superiority and condescension. As such, he was destined to always hate and fear the Sharingan, the evil, damned eyes hidden in the face of an Uchiha. The eyes that took his father away, the eyes that rendered him powerless against them.

And then they were gone to a secret meeting to hand over the body of his father to an avaricious Cloud envoy desperate to get their hands on the Byakugan.


The boy was stupid and young. If anything was in his eyes, Itachi would have honestly called it envy. That the young boy could express his emotions so freely before his clan elders without the fear of censure or sanction, it sickened him. This boy was no shinobi, would grow to be no great soldier or genius. If anything, Hyuuga Neji?s outburst and inappropriate behavior merely cemented Itachi?s long-held belief that the Hyuuga clan was weak.

But deep down, where no one but himself could see, he hated that the boy could show his heart so openly. A Shinobi must possess a heart that does not show tears. Itachi did. Never in his life could he recall feeling any emotion other than disappointment, hate, disgust, or relief. He was a man who did not experience his own emotions first-hand, needing to gauge the reactions of others to his presence to properly understand his own moods. He was a black hole, only detectable and quantifiable by the things it dislodges and displaces.

He felt scorn. This was the boy who his clan elders warned him to watch for? This was the prodigy that might one day replace him? Hardly. The Hyuuga clan was weak, beneath his concern, and a waste of his time.

The way they parted for him in their own meeting hall was disgusting. Had they no pride? Had they no spines? The greatest shinobi of the Hyuuga clan feared him, even in their own domain. How disappointing. He had expected more.

But then again? Itachi was used to being disappointed.

***

The ground rolled beneath his feet, the sonic vibrations pushing their way through solids far faster than any other state of matter. It was only a few seconds before the shockwave caught up, blowing wind through his hair and kicking dust and debris into his eyes. He clenched his teeth to keep them from rattling and felt his bones shudder from the force.

It ruined the throw he was about to make and he was forced to wipe the grime from his face.

Nowhere in his mind does Uchiha Itachi stop to consider what caused the blast, because he already knew. It was a dead-man trigger on a vest of explosive notes. Explosive vests are worn under the standard body armor all ANBU have during deep cover or insertion missions. They?re required for any ANBU who might be captured in enemy territory on a dangerous and potentially politically destabilizing mission. Designed to trigger when brain activity ceases or the heart stops for a period of time, the explosive vest completely destroys the remains of anyone wearing it. This is useful because if there is no body, then there is no proof of identity, and it limits the probability of a war being started from a bungled covert operation.

In addition, it gives greater incentive for shinobi of other villages to capture the ANBU alive for interrogation, which frequently leads to a greater probability of the ANBU being returned to the Leaf alive in a prisoner exchange or extracted by another ANBU team.

Not to mention, ten seconds is generally long enough to draw in a few unsuspecting ninja to examine the body, decimating them in the blast as well. It was an ingenious system, but incredibly suicidal and only used on high-risk missions such as this one. Itachi had to admit, the Fourth was a brilliant man to come up with something so recklessly devious.

The grime was out of his eyes and he saw that though his kunai went astray, the window pane adjacent to his target exploded from the force of the shockwave, lacerating the enemy jounin before he could react.

So in a way, his now-dead Hyuuga ally made up for throwing off his aim.

The Commander of the ANBU pressed on, slapping an exploding tag on the top of his target?s head as he passed by. A half-second later, the dazed man?s skull was violently evacuated by the resultant fireball. But he was out of Itachi?s thoughts and below his mental radar already. The Uchiha was looking for another target to kill as he escaped from the Hidden Village.

Hopefully, the violent explosion would be enough to buy him a few minutes. Not that he needed it, but it gave him time to move carefully through the enemy city.

Strolling almost leisurely, Itachi flung a kunai at the rooftop to his left, catching an unprepared chuunin in the base of the spine; he was dead before he hit the ground. With effortless grace, he stretched out his hands to place identical explosive tags at the mouth of the alleyway he darted through. A pulse of chakra later and they were hidden from sight. More than enough to fool the tunnel-vision many pursuers get during the chase.

It was less than ten seconds later he heard them explode. Then there was silence. Chakra signatures dropped off his mental map.

Itachi smiled thinly. Mist-nin were so enthusiastic by nature that it betrayed them. Impulsive, expectant, and far too eager, they would throw themselves into battle without considering the consequences properly. This was, without question, the failings of a regimented training style that encouraged bloodthirstiness.

The sudden, violent movement of air behind him was all the warning Itachi received. Consequently, it was all the warning he needed.

Dodging left and tucking beneath the blow, he avoided the sword strike. Twisting his own ninjato in a fluid draw-cut, he cleared the space behind him, forcing the enemy Hunter-nin to back off or take a lethal wound. Hopping back, the Hunter-nin allowed Itachi to draw himself to his full, unthreatening height and lock eyes with him.

Mistake.

***

His eyes feel like they?ve been glued closed. His arm doesn?t want to move either, despite his furious commands to lift up and clear whatever is holding his eyelids down. Fear and adrenaline course through him, because he can?t see anymore and that?s enough to scare him. All of his other senses are turned up all the way and he can feel his slack muscles tensing, ready to flinch at any sudden noise. He?s provoked into fight-or-flight and he can?t even move. Uchiha are protective of their eyes like that.

Forcing himself to calm down, his heart rate slows to a reasonable level. Interpret any information you have before coming to a conclusion. Something firm is beneath him, and guessing by the way gravity pulls on him, he?s laying on his back. A bed, he rationalizes, so someone has captured me.

Sasuke tries to remember but all he can come up with is that last attack, the Rasengan smashing into the Chidori, a sharp burst of pain in his forehead, and then blackness. He can?t remember how long he?s been awake and doesn?t remember waking up, because time has no meaning when you are held sightless and motionless.

Am I dead? This doesn?t worry him as much as he thought it would. His entire life he?s been chasing death, the sudden end and lack of sensation that comes with eternal blackness, with the single-minded determination he?s known for. If he?s dead, then this was all the farther he could go.

Odd that, that he can still think. If he can still think, then he can still consider his failures, his shortcomings, his betrayals? and this must be some form of hell. But Sasuke doesn?t believe in hell. Sasuke doesn?t believe in anything. But if he were to believe in that afterlife nonsense, he?d suspect that hell wouldn?t have beds. So hell is out of the question and he must be somewhere else.

Sudden fear stabs through him, cutting through the fog in his head like a knife through flesh, Am I paralyzed? This terrifies him. To be incapable of moving, little more than a vegetable? the inevitable outpouring of sympathy and pity? che? He would rather be dead. Any shinobi would rather be dead, because what is being immobile to one who has crossed the world by tree top or run along the surface of the ocean? What is stillness to one who was once the most free of all creatures?

It is unbearable. A mercy-killing would be better than that.

From far away, he can hear a noise? a scuffle followed by a clank. The sound of a padded door opening. Footsteps, light and even. A woman, taking her time in crossing the room to where he lay. It wasn?t Sakura, for which he was thankful. Her emotional outburst lacked both pattern and reason and they made the young Uchiha uncomfortable.

Using ever last bit of willpower he possessed, Uchiha Sasuke forces his eyes open halfway.

Soft light illuminates the room, but stings his eyes even still. He ignores the pain and waits for them to adjust. They do, but far more slowly than he is accustomed to, which frightens him even more so. If his eyes are damaged then what about his Sharingan? He needs that? perhaps more than anything else.

A woman leans over him, twisting the knobs on several intravenous drips closed. The clear fluids dripping from the four solution bags into his arms and legs halt. She sighs heavily and straightens up, placing on hand on her hip and favoring him with the same look one might give an insect or other insignificant annoyance. It is the same look he always gave Sakura and Naruto. Funny how it makes him want to shrivel up and die.

The woman calmly waits. For how long, Sasuke does not know. He examines her, looking her over with the inquisitive eye of the Last Uchiha. She is short, no more than 160 centimeters. Her hair is a platinum blonde that makes him think she is related to Ino, but the hard, caustic brown eyes tell him otherwise. Her face is youthful, beautiful even, but it?s drawn up in a disapproving frown that just seems angry and immature on a face that young. She?s an authority figure of some sort, but Sasuke cannot remember who she is. Definitely a kunoichi, that much is obvious by the way she stands, unlike that of a women who?s primary concern is domesticity.

His fingers are tingling and he flexes them; the action draws those angry chocolate eyes away from his face. Sasuke is unconcerned by her and a small thrill passes through him as feeling rushes up his back from his feet. In his sandals he wiggles his toes, and although he has never indulged in such a petty action before, he feels it appropriate at this moment.

?You?re awake.? It isn?t a question and it?s far from friendly. He swallows thickly, whatever it was in those fluid IVs still hasn?t worn off completely. But it is probably enough for him to sit up.

He struggles upright and she does not assist. So she?s not my nurse? but even still there is an odd sense of d?j? vu about her. Somewhere, Sasuke has seen this woman.

Crossing her arms under her comically large breasts, she lets out a small harrumphing noise.

It clicks. This woman is that medic-nin woman that woke him up from the coma induced by Itachi?s Tsukiyomi attack. This is Tsunade, the legendary Sannin, and the Godaime Hokage of Konohagakure. He did not expect her to be so young? but then he examines her massive endowment again and realizes that she?s cloaked herself in genjutsu. A powerful one that he would need his Sharingan to see through, but Sasuke can?t seem to get up the strength to summon it. His chakra is pulsing and weak, probably from some sort of injury Naruto dealt him or an after-effect of the curse seal level two. All he knows is that he failed to get to Orochimaru? which means he?s still in Konoha.

He allows himself a bitter chuckle and leans back against the headboard. So Naruto succeeded then, huh?

?Akimichi Chouji is dead,? Tsunade says, cutting into the silence. Her eyes are staring into his again, boldly, unflinchingly. Sasuke can remember a day when people were afraid to look an Uchiha in the eyes. Sad how that day has passed. The back of his mind reports that his kunai holster on his leg is missing.

?Metabolic Cascade Failure brought on by a lack of Caloric intake to maintain his techniques,? she continues, the hard edge growing in her voice. The Uchiha is only half-listening, dedicating the other half of his mind to memorizing the room. Padded, white, sterile. Toilet and wash basin within five feet of the bed. They?re made out of something metal and probably welded in place, so he won?t be able to use that as a weapon.

Sasuke understands every word she says, but he doesn?t care about Chouji. ?The fat-ass got himself killed?? He?s chained to this bed, the feeling in his ankles has come back enough now for him to feel the shackles there. Without chakra, he?s trapped here, so he attempts to infuriate his captor in the hopes she?ll present a weakness that he can take advantage of.

It doesn?t take much. Her gorgeous face screws up and goes an interesting hue of red. Steam almost shoots from her ears and she has to count to ten to restrain herself. How dare that little kitten? Tsunade regrets the necessity of keeping Uchiha Sasuke out of Orochimaru?s hands.


Again, this is first draft coming straight out of my head unedited, so expect to see some errors. This should give you a nice idea of what's going on in the background.

Enjoy.
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

I have fanart... kind of... so there, punks.

#11 Tatsu_no_Houou

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Posted 04 January 2005 - 09:50 PM

Seriously I can't wait for your attempts on my challenge! also I can't wait for this fic your working on! ^^


"Dreams echo in the void of time, striving for completion, childhood dreams, innocent things. To each his or her own"~Me

Well my other favorite quotes... you'd have to click this link wont you.
» Click to show Spoiler - click again to hide... «

#12 Geno Calamari

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Posted 07 January 2005 - 03:59 AM

Okay, so I've been kicking around a crazy idea in my head for... oh, I don't know, a few days now. I'm not sure I want to end Asinine Rationalizations the way you guys want it to end.

How would you guys react if the story took a wild and dangerous left turn and things flipped on our heads? I mean, you guys are pretty sure how it's going to end, and I plan on doing something that will satisfy that, but what if I didn't?

I mean, completely freaking blindsided you guys. In the manner where you could see what was coming a little bit before it hit, but you couldn't do anything about it?

I can only say that it just got uglier.
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

I have fanart... kind of... so there, punks.

#13 XTCDraGonZ

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Posted 07 January 2005 - 04:25 AM

i'm not sure how it's gonna end haha... the only conclusion i see is that naru/saku end up together. But what if they aren't!??! Oh, the horrors. tongue.gif


oh and your sig. it's seems a bit familiar... came from a song right? you just changed the lyrics... but the name of the song escapes me... is it from a song? theme song or something?

#14 Geno Calamari

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Posted 07 January 2005 - 04:28 AM

QUOTE (XTCDraGonZ @ Jan 7 2005, 12:25 AM)
oh and your sig.  it's seems a bit familiar... came from a song right?  you just changed the lyrics... but the name of the song escapes me... is it from a song?  theme song or something?


Not at all. I just made that up on the spot. I've got a talent for meter, but between you and me, don't ever ask me to sing.
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

I have fanart... kind of... so there, punks.

#15 Geno Calamari

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Posted 15 February 2005 - 01:18 PM

I'm double-posting because I don't care, thank you very much. This just had to come out and I had to post it.

Fresh, crawled straight from my head:

Click For Spoiler

One step from my horizon
I think I dream I wonder
My honor yearns for reason
I plant this seed of treason
I?m the Sky, I?m the Heavens
I declare my intentions
Rain down, Bleed forever
Nothing?s held from the dead
Rip down the stars, both hands
And wait for the sign, my final act
Die with the sun, burn cold
I?ll empty the sky just to believe
I sow I reap I return
Dealing out retribution
Let truth be known through bloodshed
I?m the Sky, I?m the Heavens
I declare my intentions
Weighed down, False endeavor
Truth revealed at my end
Rip down the stars, both hands
And wait for the sign, my final act
Die with the sun, burn cold
I?ll empty the sky just to believe
I will fall and thus the sky will follow
I will fall and thus the sky will follow
- Empty the Sky, Divinity Destroyed


Itachi likes chemistry. It?s something he?s always had a passion for, as much as he has passions that is. He finds it fascinating how everything in the world can be constructed from tiny little bits of the same thing. Everyone is made of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and a grab-bag of other trace elements. Potassium, nitrogen, calcium are all in there, somewhere. It is the order and arrangement of all these tiny little things that changes an unimpressive mass of molecules like, say, animal dung into ammonium nitrate. The only difference between Umino Iruka and Uchiha Itachi is those selfsame little bits, and look at the results.

Admittedly, he studied chemistry because it was important for him to learn. How many everyday substances can be used as weapons, or refined with minimal effort into something deadly? The sort of effort he could muster on a field operation? What combusts when exposed to an ignition source (something of a specialty of his, being an Uchiha and all) and what explodes, the critical difference being the rate of combustion and the force exerted during the process.

?Either way, brother,? Sasuke declares, standing eye to eye with the demon he?s carried in his mind since the night he stumbled into a massacre, ?It ends tonight.?

Chemistry is important. Yet another way of killing, of making his living, and few people ever see the esoteric chemical compound that ends them. It is important to him, because Itachi is a man who has never thrown away a tool in his life. He is an Uchiha. He is the Uchiha, a penultimate expression of an ideal. And Uchiha are (were) versatile, because their eyes given them dozens more options than any other shinobi could ever hope to match.

That demon chooses not to respond, already formulating his opening gambit against the younger man.

But now that he thinks about it, despite the complexity of the arrangements in their component molecules, the human mind is very simple. It?s primal, brutal, and even elemental. It is humorous to him that he never saw it before.

Sasuke is like lead, heavy and slow, but undeniably attractive. However, he is inimical, poisonous to the body and soul. No one he has ever met has come away whole or hale but most can?t bring themselves to blame the poor, tragic survivor. The Last Uchiha.

Sasuke strikes at him, but Itachi evades. Even as the younger Uchiha recovers, Itachi applies force to the back of his brother?s neck with the point of his elbow. Crashing down to his knees and dazed, Itachi calmly steps away from Sasuke, giving his brother time to gather his feet beneath him.

Itachi bites down on his irritation. Last Uchiha indeed, if anything Itachi is the Last Uchiha, the last scion who both remembers and understands their ideals. Even now, he still strives to achieve their goals with a will he cannot deny. The temptation to go beyond is? irresistible, even for one such as him.

Unlike Sasuke, Itachi?s elemental nature is iron. Strength, rigidity, resistance. Iron, just like lead, is atomically stable. Things make take a different path to get there, but in the end iron and lead are the result. And just like Sasuke, Itachi was once molded into something too. Forged with carbon ash, iron becomes steel and a whole world of possibilities open. Steel is light, flexible and yet unyielding at the same time, and is used in a plethora of different situations.

Lead, when alloyed with silver, becomes pewter, a far more aesthetically-pleasing derivative. Worked, it becomes something pretty, something worth observing, and perhaps even something worth displaying. Iron doesn?t behave like that. Iron is used for practical purposes, function before form is even considered. Itachi has never been anything but a shinobi, never a child, never a friend and certainly never a man.

In his effort to reach the nirvana of existence as a perfect shinobi, he has forgotten about things here and there that normal people take pleasure in and take for granted. The elder Uchiha has never been with a woman, but he cannot bring himself to see a loss in it. He doesn?t see this as problem with his masculinity or an inherent flaw of his character, because he can remember women from his adolescence who would have given their whole soul, not disregarding their bodies, to capture him.

Monogamy. There?s another thing he doesn?t understand, but this stems from the fact Itachi has only ever learned to appreciate a woman for her skills on the battlefield or her capabilities with medical-ninjutsu. (Kunoichi all inevitably take up the path of the medic-nin, just as they are all talented with genjutsu in his experience.) That is not entirely true, but for the sake of avoiding chauvinism, he fails to add ?and her skill at making meals? or ?child-rearing? to the list, despite these being the salient examples of women in his early years. Though he colors it being counter-traditionalist, rather than sexist, because he favors himself a rebel. It?s a truth, technically, however, in reality it is a jaunty, idealized view of himself that he carries around, deep in the back of his mind. Despite his best efforts, he can?t seem to rid himself of even basic human self-aggrandizement.

Growling, angry now, Sasuke launches himself in his brother?s direction, only to have his charge stopped dead by the elder Uchiha?s flawless crescent heel kick. Sasuke almost cries out from the pain. Almost. But he bears it and rolls back away from Itachi, then comes in low again and Itachi is forced to defend himself now.

Iron is forged into weapons precisely because it forms and holds an edge. It can be made sharp enough to cut through flesh at the merest touch, and that?s what Uchiha Itachi is, a weapon. Sasuke is a weapon as well, but lead is soft and deforms with too much pressure. Iron just holds an edge better.

It makes a better weapon.

Fire washes over him, and Sasuke is thrown to the ground, crossing his arms before his face in a warding gesture to hold away the flames. This blocks his vision for just a moment, and Itachi takes advantage. A dozen senbon needles seemingly sprout from critical locations across his body, pinning joints open and limiting his movement to a scent few degrees in every direction. Only a former ANBU could have known the exact right locations to target and only an Uchiha could have seen them through the flames.

The younger Uchiha collapses under his own weight, unable to shift his legs enough to compensate for his momentum. It drives the senbon under his kneecaps deeper into his skin and now he cries out. It?s a soft sound, barely loud enough to be heard, but it carries like a scream and Itachi hears.

?You are nothing,? the rogue ninja says. Sasuke stays quiet, because he knows that he?s already lost, just as quickly as the fight began it is over. He shifts his head on his neck, only to feel the two senbon there grind against vertebrae. Blood oozes slowly from torn flesh, flowing slowly down to pool between his shoulder blades.

?I should have just killed you along with all the others,? Itachi remarks, and Sasuke realizes that his brother is thinking aloud, perhaps for the first time in his life, ?Incapable of even following the simplest of orders. Worthless.?

This burns Sasuke. It sears him like no flame ever could and a strange burning sensation works its way up his throat. He does not know it is a scream of rage, but he holds it in, for now. It might be vomit, and Sasuke doesn?t want to embarrass himself anymore than he already has. Though it could just as easily be a cry of pain or grief, and that?s even worse than vomit, in his mind.

?You? bastard?? Sasuke wheezes. Itachi looms over him now, staring at him with those relentless, dead, soulless Sharingan eyes. His thin lips are drawn together in a hard line, curled at one corner ever-so-slightly to express his disgust. His aqualine nose is flared just a bit and the standing man is sneering.

?What would you have me do Sasuke?? Itachi asks, and that?s startling, ?What would you do if you were in my position??

Sasuke returns his brother?s glare evenly and does not respond. Itachi waits patiently and they stare one another down. The younger brother is at an obvious disadvantage, what with being maimed and bleeding and laying awkwardly on the ground, but Sasuke has been nothing if not stubborn his entire life.

?Go home Sasuke,? the older brother says after a pregnant pause, breaking the sharp silence. There is weariness in his words that Sasuke has never heard before and his glare has evaporated now. ?Don?t come after me again.?

Sasuke?s heart stops in his throat. His brother is pushing him aside again. The younger man will be forgotten, discarded, in favor of Itachi?s self-appointed mission. No, Sasuke thinks, Not again. Not this time. He refuses to be sacrificed or used for his brother?s mad plans and shadowy logic anymore. Uchiha Sasuke is going to make his own way in life, and he?s going to start by avenging his clan.

That scream of rage finally claws its way out of his mouth as the Uchiha progeny lunges from his prone position, fist preceding body in a chakra-enhanced right hook that lacks both subtlety and defensive capacity, but Sasuke doesn?t care anymore. He?s tired of running, he?s tired of hiding, and above all, he?s tired of living miserably.

As though he expected the outburst, Itachi flows around Sasuke?s awkward blow, grasping his wrist and pulling hard. Balance lost, the younger Uchiha stumbles forward until his chest presses against his brother?s. They are face to face, eyes inches apart.

?Leave.? The quiet force that permeates the elder man seems to double in intensity. Sasuke?s tired and broken mind is awash with anger, but he?s still sharp enough to notice the lack of breath from his brother?s mouth. The lack of breath minimizes the noise caused by the use of his mouth. ANBU are commonly taught how to throw their voices and control the sound produced, but Sasuke doesn?t know anyone who has ever gone so far as to control every inhalation and exhalation for maximum stealth.

Itachi is the iron forged by the crucible of combat into the steely shinobi before him. The tungsten-carbide coating of experience and training merely coats and protects the Uchiha prodigy, reduces wear and tear accumulated from years on the road and innumerable deaths by his hand. Controlled breathing is as much a part of him as ruthless efficiency or callous indifference. Casually, as though no more concerned with straightening his clothing, Itachi pushes his brother to the ground, purposefully allowing Sasuke to fall hard on the tips of several senbon.

He does not enjoy the look of agony that flashes momentarily across his sibling?s face. In truth, Itachi understands why Sasuke tries to hide his pain, especially in front of him. It?s a useless effort, because the one still standing has seen all the forms of pain a man can feel, and dealt almost all of them. Sasuke can no more hide the pain he?s enduring than he could travel backward in time or discover the secrets of the universe on the back of a milk carton.

Turning away, the Akatsuki member makes as if to leave. He?s taken those Sharingan off of his brother, deciding that he poses no threat anymore. It is strange that Itachi allows Sasuke to live, when he has killed so many. During the course of his life, he has killed for money, for vengeance, and most importantly, for power. He has killed when slighted, when insulted, when ignored. He has killed to be noticed, to cause suffering, to fulfill a contract.

But he does not kill Sasuke. Never Sasuke.

The pain Itachi forces Sasuke to endure is a lesson, like everything the elder brother gives the younger. Carefully planned for maximum effect, the grey-haired man molds Sasuke until he becomes something useful, the final tool to unlock what Itachi searches for.

Sasuke lunges from the ground, thrusting a sharpened hunk of steel toward his brother?s unprotected back. He is screaming now, partially from pain but mostly out of hate and spite. His brother refuses to die, and Sasuke doesn?t understand why he will not fall and die. The Uchiha progeny needs to move on with his life. This chapter needs to be closed, because Sasuke has other business to attend to, and other people to kill. He can?t bear the insomnia, but the teen just goes to pieces when he dreams about it.

He feels the kunai catch for a second, hears the tearing of cloth, and then feels his brother jerk away in a motion almost too clumsy to be Itachi. The hit is scored, and even if it wasn?t enough, Sasuke will still be satisfied, because this is closer to his goal than he has ever come before. Whatever consequence he will face, it was worth it.

Momentum unabated, he stumbles forward, those damned senbon pinning his muscles in awkward positions. Unable to maintain his balance, the dark-haired shinobi crashes to the ground once again.

His fingertips are wet with blood, but Itachi stares at them with an almost clinical detachment. It has been a long time since the rogue ninja has seen his own blood. This makes it almost a novelty to him. At the very least, it is thought-provoking and shocking to some degree. In being invincible for so long, Itachi has forgotten how to react to being injured.

It takes him close to three seconds to figure out an appropriate response. But the flesh around the wound is tingling oddly. Dimly, Itachi remembers wounds not feeling quite like that, years ago when he last had one. Forsaking dignity, he checks himself and finds a razor cut along the underside of his left arm. At the edge of his sight, Sasuke is watching with something akin to rapt fascination. He looks delighted at his minor victory, as though a simple scratch could possibly win him the entire battle. The aura of invulnerability is destroyed by just a little nick, and if Sasuke?s gone so far, then certainly he can summon the strength to go the last mile.

Itachi cannot have such baseless assumptions. He will not tolerate foolishness from Sasuke. To allow his brother to entertain fanciful illusions would be to destroy all that Itachi has worked for.

So there?s only one thing left to do, even though it will cause a set-back to his plans. The time schedule will be thrown completely off, but in retrospect, he guesses that there is nothing he can really do about it. This was inevitable.

Sasuke struggles to his hands and knees, now laughing weakly. He?s enjoying his little victory and, quite probably, the last little bit of life he?ll get. This is, he thinks, not a bad way to go out. All in all, it is fitting.

Then his brother kicks him in the stomach, hard enough to lift his entire body from the ground and skips him across the clearing floor. He lands on his arm and feels the ribs all down his side vibrate to the impact. Something gives around the senbon in his elbow, ripping the sharpened needle free with a dull sucking noise. Blood pulses freely from the new wound, but Sasuke?s pinned his arm under his body and he cannot see it. For that matter, the Uchiha progeny cannot feel the wound either and that bothers him more.

It?s not the only needle pulled loose by his wild tumble, but he?s merely traded lack of mobility for blood loss. Both of them are equally appealing and yet neither is desirable. Funny that.

Sasuke drags himself back to his knees, pulling his body erect just in time to catch the heel of Itachi?s backhanded palm-strike with his mouth. It snaps his head back and ever so slowly he topples backward. Spinning in the reverse direction so fast it seems an illusion, the Akatsuki flicks his foot into the path his brother is taking. His heel strikes a few centimeters beneath Sasuke?s left armpit, dashing him down, against the ground. The shorter man bounces once, then comes to a stop.

The breath has been dashed from his lungs and his wide Sharingan are panicked as he gasps for breath that will not come.

He looks up into dual three-armed spirals. Just for a second, he is mesmerized, frozen in unblinking fascination. The natural evolution of his own eyes made manifest before his eyes. Even from this distance, Sasuke can feel the unlocked power, the raw, highly-controlled essence of the Sharingan in his mind, like a burn scar across his psyche.

It is not pleasant. Gritting his teeth, Sasuke forces his eyelids closed, but they only fall halfway. The sclera feels as though it?s swelling, filling with fluids until the soft, fleshy orbs can take no more and will burst. Pain rings through his skull and the dull thump of his heart beat fills his ears. Something is on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot expel it from his mouth. His breathing is short and rapid, and soon enough he?ll hyperventilate. This is wrong, it?s all wrong. Itachi has done something to him, but he cannot understand it. The eyes he prizes so much show him no trickery or technique, but intellectually, he suspects this is some scheme of his brother?s design.

Itachi watches, staring with the implacable gaze of the Mangekyou Sharingan, coldly monitoring his brother?s internal plight. It?s been almost ten years since he grasped the power offered to him with both hands. Now, after much internalizing and self-realization, the grey-haired man has come to be a master of the most powerful Sharingan form. Holding it open is child?s play. Seeing the world as it really is does not pose trouble for him.

He can see deep into Sasuke?s mind, through the eyes he cannot close. The Mangekyou Sharingan allows him that much control. Pushing past the troublesome guards everyone maintains around their most personal memories is no more difficult than opening a door.

This is not a desirable method of achieving his goals, but if it brings about what he wants, Itachi will finish this unpleasant task. That?s the sort of man he is, anything for the mission.

Door opened, Itachi proceeds to examine the contents of Sasuke?s mind. Sifting through like a man panning for gold, he holds up each and every one of Sasuke?s fuzzy memories to the light, looking for a little glint of what he?s hunting.

It feels like a marching band crashing through his childhood. All the most embarrassing and frightening moments of Sasuke?s life are relived, though through the haze of time. It?s not the Tsukiyomi; these memories do not have the power to hurt. It?s in muted color and soft sound, just as Sasuke remembers. But for some reason, they stab his fragile pride like a thousand knives.

Naruto has a thunderous power. I?m inferior. How can I get that sort of power?
I?m an avenger. I?ll do anything for power, even if I have to sell my body to the devil himself.


The speed of his flashing memories increases now, and there is a quiet desperation on his brother?s face. Whatever he?s looking for, he hasn?t found yet, and for that Sasuke is thankful. All he needs is to hold out just a little bit longer, just a little bit more time is all he needs. But Itachi increases the pressure of his mental deadlock, pushing past his brother?s momentary resistance like a flood crashing over a dam. He?s too deep, too quick, too broad for the younger man to hold back, just as he has always been.

Hey? dead-last? what did Sakura tell you?
You won?t lay a finger on my forehead.


It?s a fever pitch now, memories beginning and ending before they reach completion. Half his life is being viewed in half an instant. Pain wracks him and he draws his arms about himself as though to ward it off. It does not work.

Then, Itachi finds what he?s looking for. A single, fragile memory hidden away at the very back of Sasuke?s mind. It was so small, so well hidden, that the Akatsuki almost didn?t find it.

For you have become my best friend.

And just as quickly as it began, this phantom pain stops. The mysterious swelling of his eyes subsides and the feeling of broken and cracked ribs floods back. It is agony, but he does not cry out. Sasuke?s ears ring with silence, and he?s sure his balance is thrown off, but that?s alright because whatever his brother did to him is over now.

Itachi is not pleased by what he sees. He found what he is looking for, but it is not as he expects. Nothing? nothing works? everything?s broken.

To express the depths of his displeasure, he breaks Sasuke?s collarbone. A straight snap kick delivered at the perfect angle and speed to shatter bone, a practiced move from a long-gone day when he used to brutalize prisoners undergoing interrogation. Sasuke?s body falls limply backward, tumbling from his knees to his shoulder.

Itachi is angry now, and it shows. His Sharingan eyes have narrowed to venomous crimson slits. He can?t remember the last time he was this furious, this wild and out-of-control. The stone walled persona he has built around himself is crumbling, the flames inside licking higher than ever before. He is incensed and only blood and pain will sate his fury.

Sasuke?s bleary eyes open just in time to see Itachi reach down for a handful of his raven hair, the same distinctive every-which-way mop of blackness every girl looked for and every boy hated. The strands pull tight against the thin skin atop his skull as he is lifted bodily. He?s gone comfortably numb, though, and makes no attempt to stop his brother from beating the living kitten out of him.

Itachi pulls back a fist, all finesse and form gone in the haze of anger, but dark blue chakra coalesces around the tightly-clenched fingers. Even so far gone in his madness, the rogue ninja still perfectly controls his chakra with the mindless direction of an automaton.

Fist cocked, the clear victor sends it crashing into the loser?s face, releasing the hair at the exact right moment to ensure the maximum degree of whiplash. He feels Sasuke?s nose break as the fist skips across an eye socket too small to accommodate it. He suspects he hit his brother hard enough to give him a concussion as well. Sasuke reels, then makes as if to collapse again. Gods, how he wishes he could pass out? but he?s not that lucky, evidently.

He could end it now. All he would have to do is draw a kunai across Sasuke?s all-too-exposed, all-too-pale throat and call it a day. But he does not. Death would be too good for his foolish little brother, after all the trouble he?s caused for Itachi.

But his torment is far from over.

Lunging forward in an obscure style of taijutsu that the Sharingan master knows perfectly, he slams the point of his bent knee into the hunter-nin?s sternum. It throws Sasuke like a rag-doll, end over end, for several meters, ending face up.

Itachi is on top of him before he stops rolling. A leg shoots up, freezing for a long moment in Sasuke?s field of vision, threatening and promising all in one fluid motion. Then it descends silently, without warning. The heel strikes Sasuke dead amidships, and something soft inside breaks. The force of the blow curls him up around the offending foot for a moment, and then Sasuke goes slack once again. Still he does nothing.

It is this passive resistance that irritates Itachi more than anything else. Amazing as it is, such a simple action as doing nothing sums up Sasuke perfectly. He sits in one place, never moving, never changing but always letting others change him. The growth or loss is never by his own hand, always provoked by another. Kakashi, Naruto, Sakura, Orochimaru, all perpetuators of his rise to the top. But none more important than Itachi.

When he should be fighting, Sasuke meekly lays back and accepts what comes as fate or destiny. The Uchiha were better than that, stronger than that.

And Itachi hits him again, if only to drive that point in just a little deeper. We are stronger. And again. We can overcome anything. And again. It?s funny that Sasuke, so steeped in his own righteous indignation over revenge for the clan, does not understand Itachi?s motives. When it should be so clear, so maddeningly simple, Sasuke fails to see? and Itachi cannot discern why. The lessons are not flawed, and the success of the method is in the archives, so the fault must lay with the student.

He grasps his kid brother by the throat, pulling him from the soft ground and slamming him against the nearest tree trunk ruthlessly. It is of little matter that he carries his brother essentially at arm?s length for ten meters before he contacts this tree. Sasuke feels the rough bark break free, splintering in his skin. His older brother has been less than kind to his face, but he?s so dazed right now he can?t feel the blood run from his mashed lips or broken nose. Head lolling on his neck, Sasuke hangs pinned by the neck to a redwood.

Never being the sort to admire his handiwork, the S-class missing-nin is surprised to find he cannot help but look.

Their faces should be nearly identical, what with the propensity of the Uchiha clan to ?keep it in the family? and the closeness of their countenances at a young age. Sasuke merely lacks the thin lines that run beneath Itachi?s high-born cheekbones.

Itachi lacks the broken nose, ruined lips, swollen left eye, gash across his forehead, and bloody crimson patina coating his chin and chest. But everything is relative, he realizes and it is of minimal importance. Sasuke bleeds from a dozen different wounds, both internally and externally, but he has neither passed out from the pain nor collapsed from blood-loss. All of this evidence supports Itachi?s suspicions, but does not eliminate the obvious failure that the hunter-nin represents.

In just continuing to breathe, Sasuke makes Itachi a failure. The greatest mistake he ever made. Now having tasted the heights of hubris, enjoyed the forbidden fruit of vainglory, Itachi is older and wiser now. He?s twenty-seven, and that?s too old to be messing around with Sasuke like two brothers wrestling. Though, he admits, this is hardly play and far from the normal sort of sibling rivalry most children endure.

?Why do you continually disappoint me?? Itachi asks, leaning close to Sasuke?s dulled onyx eyes, still seeing the little spark of consciousness hidden in their glossy depths. The question is unimportant. Itachi already knows the answer, just as he always has. Fragile as the flame of hope is, it is all that has kept the elder man pushing the younger one to succeed.

?Weak,? he hisses, answering his own question. The truth is a harsh pill for him to swallow, though Sasuke still seems too far gone in the pain to really register the slight. His brother was never capable of following in his footsteps, a flaw either by design of the clan before the massacre or mere Sasuke?s misguided attempt at crippling himself to spite Itachi.

He is a great possessor of cruelty, Uchiha Itachi. But it is rational, applied with straightforward logic, and delivered with practical efficacy. His brother is now useless? he bites his lower lip, the only outward sign of his frustration at the admission? has always been useless. And he never saw it before. Sloppy. Careless. If he were still an ANBU, he would have severally dressed-down someone trying to pull that sort of kitten in his unit.

The alternative has been progressing nicely, though. His mind skips away from the limp shinobi pinned before him and to another promising candidate. For a moment, the most dangerous man alive considers the ramifications of abandoning his work with Sasuke in favor of his second-string choice. Theoretically, even with a crippled form of the Sharingan, the subject should be capable of providing what Itachi needs. The patterns are all right there, laid out so conveniently in Mangekyou Sharingan construction and, as a whole, chakra theory itself. If he wanted to get technical, he didn?t even need a Sharingan user for his plans, but they were the easiest for him to manipulate, control, and ultimately, expend. Like attracts like and all.

The loss of time is the most infuriating part. He is a patient man, willing to wait as long as it takes, but that doesn?t mean he enjoys every second of not getting what he wants.

On the other hand, Sasuke?s reaction should be well-worth the wasted years. Yes. This is a suitable course of action. With the decision made, Itachi turns back to the task in hand.

He forces Sasuke?s face up, smearing the already-drying blood from his brother?s chin to his hand. Sasuke weakly attempts to jerk his head from Itachi?s grasp because he knows what?s coming, but the hold is like iron. Relentless, just like iron. That pleases Itachi on some baser level he does not acknowledge.

?Let me show you something, otouto,? their eyes meet and the Mangekyou Sharingan opens fully.

?Tsukiyomi.?

Weak as he is, Sasuke finds the strength to cry out.

Weak as he may be, his screams carry for miles.


There. That's out. I'm not sure I did the beat-down properly.
I need reactions. Thoughts. I need to know if you guys think this works. I'm not sure.

Give me some guesses, whatever first comes to your mind about what's going on here. Because I need to know if it's more confusing than I first intended or too straightforward.

Thanks.

Edit: Changed a dependent clause from present tense to future tense, to avoid some confusion about whether Sasuke's eyes really exploded or not. They didn't.
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

I have fanart... kind of... so there, punks.

#16 sharingank

sharingank

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Posted 15 February 2005 - 01:33 PM

Well kitten. I don't have time to read through all of your complexities, Mister Calamari. You just HAD to post this now, didn't you? You just HAD to grab my attention RIGHT BEFORE I HAVE TO GO TO CLASS, didn't you? You did this on purpose. I despise you.

But damn, that poetry was ingenius.

#17 Geno Calamari

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Posted 15 February 2005 - 01:36 PM

Yeah. I did. Guess I'm not such a softie after all, huh?

Enjoy your class, now. :devil:

(And what poetry do I have in there? Would someone quote it for me?)
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

I have fanart... kind of... so there, punks.

#18 sharingank

sharingank

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Posted 15 February 2005 - 01:43 PM

If I would have stopped to read that you had quoted a song, I would not be making this post right now. However, I did not.

*flounces off to class*

#19 Geno Calamari

Geno Calamari

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Posted 15 February 2005 - 01:47 PM

THIS POST CAN BE DISREGARDED IN ITS ENTIRETY. PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN.
I am not the person to talk to if you like Shikamaru. I am not the author to read if you want to see more Shikamaru. End of Story.

I have fanart... kind of... so there, punks.

#20 sharingank

sharingank

    Inner Kyuubi

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  • Location:OHIO!!
  • Interests:Uh...stuff. I like Naruto. Wow. What a surprise. Gaara, Kakashi, Neji, and Kankuro are the boys.

Posted 15 February 2005 - 01:47 PM

Just corrected myself. I have a tendency to skim over things quickly. My bad. XD


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