Self-suggestion would only last so long when the Sharingan had been so deeply ingrained into his every technique for so many years, but for now Sasuke could only distantly piece together that he couldn't use it. And it was easy to be distracted, because Naruto had crumpled to the ground without a sound and Hinata was poised over him, arm curved back in a finishing strike.
Controlled, she had to be -- some kind of jutsu that took the body away from the mind, because Hinata would never -- there was something terribly wrong about the way Naruto was bent. His eyes were registering it but the brain wasn't, the unnatural angle of spine, the perfect stillness of the body.
"Stop," he started, too quiet, and then louder: "Stop!"
The chakra he'd released had disappeared into the environment, undirected as it was: he focused it more, now, slamming his hands together to flicker: never a technique he'd made much use of, his training relying so heavily on natural speed as it was, but he needed to move and move fast. He reappeared closer to his teammates, hands outstretched to knock Hinata out of commission and keep her from doing any further damage, and then someone appeared before he could.
Someone with a sharp blade and no hesitation in killing grace. The sound of metal slicing through cloth and flesh hit the air before blood did, Sasuke's hands still reaching until they were splattered with it.
"Brother ..." It was a whisper, shocked, and now there was the beginning of the Sharingan stirring, an unavoidable instinct even with the insistent sense that he shouldn't use it. Chakra flooded again, a conscious attempt at dispelling genjutsu this time: because this had to be fake. It couldn't be real, Itachi standing over him holding a sword wet with Hinata's blood, red eyes cold. It couldn't be real, and he focused this time, seeking the edges of his own chakra, looking for where it had to be entangled with a lie.
no subject
Controlled, she had to be -- some kind of jutsu that took the body away from the mind, because Hinata would never -- there was something terribly wrong about the way Naruto was bent. His eyes were registering it but the brain wasn't, the unnatural angle of spine, the perfect stillness of the body.
"Stop," he started, too quiet, and then louder: "Stop!"
The chakra he'd released had disappeared into the environment, undirected as it was: he focused it more, now, slamming his hands together to flicker: never a technique he'd made much use of, his training relying so heavily on natural speed as it was, but he needed to move and move fast. He reappeared closer to his teammates, hands outstretched to knock Hinata out of commission and keep her from doing any further damage, and then someone appeared before he could.
Someone with a sharp blade and no hesitation in killing grace. The sound of metal slicing through cloth and flesh hit the air before blood did, Sasuke's hands still reaching until they were splattered with it.
"Brother ..." It was a whisper, shocked, and now there was the beginning of the Sharingan stirring, an unavoidable instinct even with the insistent sense that he shouldn't use it. Chakra flooded again, a conscious attempt at dispelling genjutsu this time: because this had to be fake. It couldn't be real, Itachi standing over him holding a sword wet with Hinata's blood, red eyes cold. It couldn't be real, and he focused this time, seeking the edges of his own chakra, looking for where it had to be entangled with a lie.