It had been a point of pride for as long as Sasuke could remember what pride was, Konoha-the-strongest, Konoha filled with bloodlines other villages could only hope to steal, the village with the Hokage monument rising tall over the trees. Konoha was hidden in name, only, and Sasuke had thought it strength.
What was the true strength of the village, now? There was what he'd known, growing up in daylight; flashy jutsu and the thrill of speed, the faster blade and the more powerful chakra.
Now there was this, a dark room in a civilian house, a dawn that wouldn't wait and a world that would want answers outside. And answers it would find, one way or another, whether it was in the form of a child allowed to declare vengeance -- and what that would say about Konoha, no matter what version of the truth won out -- or a burned house, an authorless tragedy. If it had been Sasuke's choice alone, his burden alone ... but Obito was here, his cousin and teacher who hadn't taught him to expect this, not really. No one had. Was it even possible to teach this, or was the only option to share the enduring of it?
"I thought I knew what the shadows were," Sasuke said finally, just a whisper. The shadow of the Kage, the shadow of his clan. His brother. "All this time, I've been a child in the sunlight."
He bowed his head and took a long, steadying breath. And then he drew a kunai instead of his sword and knelt: intimacy in proximity, the soft hot spray of blood when he cut the boy's neck. It died down from a gushing flow to a trickle, minutes ticking past, and then a sluggish pulse -- and another -- slowing. Carefully, Sasuke tucked the kunai back into his weapons pouch and gathered chakra to his hands, pressing it to the red-gashed neck.
"I'll close the cuts in case someone calls in forensics," he said, voice as evenly businesslike as he could make it. "Without smoke in their lungs, they'll know the fire didn't kill them, but this will at least help cover our tracks further."
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What was the true strength of the village, now? There was what he'd known, growing up in daylight; flashy jutsu and the thrill of speed, the faster blade and the more powerful chakra.
Now there was this, a dark room in a civilian house, a dawn that wouldn't wait and a world that would want answers outside. And answers it would find, one way or another, whether it was in the form of a child allowed to declare vengeance -- and what that would say about Konoha, no matter what version of the truth won out -- or a burned house, an authorless tragedy. If it had been Sasuke's choice alone, his burden alone ... but Obito was here, his cousin and teacher who hadn't taught him to expect this, not really. No one had. Was it even possible to teach this, or was the only option to share the enduring of it?
"I thought I knew what the shadows were," Sasuke said finally, just a whisper. The shadow of the Kage, the shadow of his clan. His brother. "All this time, I've been a child in the sunlight."
He bowed his head and took a long, steadying breath. And then he drew a kunai instead of his sword and knelt: intimacy in proximity, the soft hot spray of blood when he cut the boy's neck. It died down from a gushing flow to a trickle, minutes ticking past, and then a sluggish pulse -- and another -- slowing. Carefully, Sasuke tucked the kunai back into his weapons pouch and gathered chakra to his hands, pressing it to the red-gashed neck.
"I'll close the cuts in case someone calls in forensics," he said, voice as evenly businesslike as he could make it. "Without smoke in their lungs, they'll know the fire didn't kill them, but this will at least help cover our tracks further."