Chapter 312 - My OC Stash #12 - The Sociopathy Of Uchiha Sasuke by Sir Lucifer Morningstar (Naruto)

Darker and edgier than the DCU ✅

>Torture p.o.r.n ✅

>5Head, all part of the keikaku MC ✅

Must be a Sir Lucifer Morningstar fic lol/

Synopsis: ...because you can't simply use Tsukuyomi on a bloody seven-year-old and not expect serious consequences.

Rated: M

Words: 24K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13093409/1/The-Sociopathy-Of-Uchiha-Sasuke/ (Sir Lucifer Morningstar)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Prologue + Chapter

This story is because:

A. Was feeling a bit repetitive with my continuous Gamer/SI fics, and

B. Decided to branch out into another type of story in order to spice up my writing.

Not gonna take much precedence, since I'm just 'experimenting' with this idea.

But, hey, this is my first ever fic on this site that deals with an actual canon character as the MC. I chose Sasuke because there is no f.u.c.k.i.n.g way I can write Ninja-Jesus-Naruto as the MC of my story without making it a Dark!Naruto fic. Ah, but Sasuke (with some creative license) is right up my alley.

Without further adieu, the warnings:

WARNING! This story contains instances and/or mentions of assault, psychological torture, regular torture, ****, underaged s.e.x, manipulation, gaslighting, dubious consent, drugs, self-harm and/or mutilation, and stuff that is considered almost as edgy as Batman V Superman. You will be disturbed, perturbed, and curse the day your mother decided to birth you.

You have been warned.

The Sociopathy of Uchiha Sasuke

…because you can't simply use Tsukuyomi on a bloody seven-year-old and not expect serious consequences.

Prologue

How many times had it been now?

"Foolish little brother."

How long had it been?

"Sasuke-kun! Run!"

"Mikoto!"

He wasn't sure. What was time to him, anyway?

"This is so I can test the limits of my ability."

He said that… but… did it really matter?

Hey… Ni-san, does your limit really matter?

Steel.

Blood.

Tears.

Screams.

The same cycle, repeated, endlessly. The manner in which they repeated was never the same. In some versions, his mother and father fought back. In others, they sat still and let the blade sink through their necks, the blood falling unto the floor, their bodies following. In the rarest versions, even he was crying as he killed them. Sometimes it was blood. Other times, tears. The mish-mash of different ways made him wonder which was real. Which was fake, which was real, he didn't know. He stopped trying to find out.

In terms of life experience, his combined time under the jutsu was far longer than the actual number of years he had been alive. Or, at least, it felt longer. Wasn't it longer? It should be. He wasn't sure anymore. His seven years of life experience felt meagre in comparison to the amount of years he'd been watching the endless cycle of his parent's death by the hands of the one person he admired the most.

His throat felt nonexistent. There was an itch. It was irritating, and it came with a sound that made little sense to his ears. The sound was irritating, high-pitched, and it wouldn't die down. It just remained with the itch, and it stayed at the background no matter what happened.

He began to take note of the details. The scents. The tastes. The sounds. He observed the fights, if they could even be called that. The sheen of the sword. The swiftness at which they cut through bone and sinew. The redness of the blood that stained them. He started counting the drops and splatters. They were always the same. Fourteen small, six medium, one large. He listened to the sound of his mother's screams. Belatedly, he realized that this nightmare was the only place where he would hear her voice again. Ever.

He felt old. Older than he should be. The throbbing ache of seeing his parents cut down died after the first two thousand times or so. His attempts to rush to them and save them or warn them stopped after the first four thousand. Now, he stared at the entire scene that happened with nothing but slight boredom.

"S-S-S-Sasuke-kun –"

There she was. She would come, as always, crawling and calling out his name. She would drag her blood-covered form across the floor, her hand stretching out, and reaching for him.

"H-H-H –"

As always, fifteen seconds in, she would attempt to call for help. She would stutter the initial letter three times, before, two and a half-seconds later –

Blood-splatter.

The blade would sink into the back of her head.

Brain-matter.

It would drip down from the ANBU-blade. Three large chunks. Fourteen Medium. Twenty-eight small. Fourteen specks of blood follow and fall down on her hair.

Then, the condescending voice.

"Foolish little brother."

The spinning red eyes.

Rinse.

Repeat.

…

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

"How is he?"

"So far, his vitals are stable Hokage-sama. There were only a few superficial wounds and bruises found on his person."

"Then why hasn't he awakened?"

"Our… diagnostics scans have confirmed significant amounts of alterations to his brain structure – and… there is no simple way to put this Hokage-sama, he has undergone severe mental stress and psychological damage that would have left even the most hardened shinobi brain dead… it's a miracle he is still mostly intact."

Sarutobi Hiruzen grimaced. He felt he was getting far too old for his job. His bones creaked and his entire body was wrought with discomfort. Yet, he knew that he only had but a few minutes to spare with the boy. An entire clan being wiped out at night meant there was work to be done. Roles to be replaced. Funerals to be held, and significant amounts of damage control to run.

"Keep me updated on his status, and let me know when he wakes."

"Hai Hokage-sama."

Eyes.

Open.

Failed. Cannot open. Why?

Weak.

Very weak.

Cannot move.

Body refuses.

Smell?

Clean. Too clean. Artificially clean. Hospital?

Sound?

Beeps. Steady beeping. Voices. Distinct. Cannot understand. Hospital – increased possibility.

Taste?

Dry.

Parched.

Water.

Need. Need.

Water.

Speak. Speak.

"W-w-" he rasped. He disliked the sound of his voice. "W-w-w-water."

"Ah!"

"He's awake?"

"Quickly, contact Hokage-sama!"

"W-w-water."

"And get some water! Now!"

He forgot.

He forgot there were other people in the world. Aside from his clan. Aside from his parents. Aside from their killer.

He forgot there was a village called Konoha.

A man called the Hokage.

Individuals called Shinobi.

He forgot how things were supposed to work in this outside world.

"Sasuke-kun," the old man was attempting to convey an emotion. What emotion was it again? "I know this might be very difficult for you –"

Why would it be difficult for me?

The man's lips seemed to change. It indicated something. He could not tell what it was. But it was not positive. No.

"It might be difficult because of the circ.u.mstances."

How did he know what I was thinking?

"Sasuke-kun, your brother, Itachi –"

He slaughtered my parents and my clan, and said he did it to test his limits.

The Hokage's face had another negative. There was something. Something.

"Itachi… said that?"

How do you know what I'm thinking?

He turned his attention to one of the men in the room. Blonde-haired. There was something about him.

"I see. Very well. We will immediately place Itachi in the Bingo Books, as an S-Rank Criminal, to be brought in Dead and Alive."

Oh. Is that all?

The man's face twisted again. For someone so old, he had a lot of expressions. While under that jutsu, the only expressions Sasuke saw were those of fear, terror or rage. He knew there were more than three. He was certain. Yet, he could not remember any of them. Place them. Name them. Recall them. Feel them.

"Itachi will face justice for his crimes, Sasuke-kun. I understand that he was your brother, and you might feel… something toward him –"

What am I supposed to feel toward him?

How… how did he feel of him before now? Before this… when he mentioned his brother, Itachi, he would be filled with something – there was something he felt – when his lips were upturned and his mouth was moving wildly and exaggeratedly – what was that called?

The old man kept regarding him with different faces. There was something he felt he was missing.

But what?

"Sasuke-kun, this is Yamanaka Inoichi – a foremost at the mind arts, and a member of Konoha's Yamanaka Clan."

The blonde man. Sasuke turned his gaze towards him.

"He is here to help you come to terms with any unresolved issues you may have with…" a pause. Sasuke noted it. The hesitation. "…with the loss of your family and clan."

Numerous gazes in his direction. Anticipation. Anticipation for something. A reaction? From him? Why? Was he supposed to react to that? Positively? Negatively? It was a fact – wasn't it?

Okay.

Their gazes turned negative. Was that the wrong response? An unusual reaction? Strange. His parents and clan were gone. He'd seen it. Again. And again. And again. Enough times to memorize the botches and splashes on their clothes when they died. Was he supposed to deny their deaths? Why?

"Sasuke-kun," the blonde man – Yamanaka – spoke "please don't be afraid to tell us how you feel."

Why would I be afraid?

The man paused. "Often times, when bad things happen to people, they hide and bottle up all the feelings they have because they can't come to terms with it. It is common, but not healthy at all." His expression changed. "So you don't need to do that."

I'm not doing that.

"Often times, they also use denial to –"

I'm not denying anything.

There was something in his expression. "Sasuke-kun, I understand that this must be difficult –"

It isn't. Why do you insist it is?

"Your family is gone, Sasuke." He said.

And?

The room was quiet. Too quiet. Was that the wrong thing to say?

"Your family is gone and your brother is responsible. How does that make you feel?"

…

Irritated.

The man seemed satisfied. "Now, we're getting somewhere Sasuke-kun. Why are you irritated?"

Because I don't know how to cook, and my mother couldn't have been bothered to teach me before she died.

Silence again. He said the wrong thing again. He needed to change it.

Don't blame her, it's not her fault. She would have taught me if she knew Itachi would slit her throat one day.

There. That should make things better.

He was starting to realize that there was no point in ever truly stating his mind. No matter what he said, what he held, their expressions would mostly be negative. He could not understand their lack of candidness, nor did he even understand the reason why they often seemed to have negative reactions to his frankness.

"Don't you want to go to your clan's funeral Sasuke-kun?"

Why would I do that?

"To say your final farewells."

They're dead. I don't think corpses can hear me.

His sessions with the Yamanaka doubled from that moment on, which, Sasuke realized were incredibly irritating and constricting. The insistence of the man that he was 'bottling' something or 'denying' something was becoming overwhelmingly tedious.

"What are your goals for the future Sasuke-kun?"

Becoming strong.

"Why do you want to become strong?"

So I can kill Itachi.

"Do you want to get vengeance for your clan Sasuke-kun?"

No.

"So why do you want to kill Itachi?"

Because he might change his mind.

"Change his mind?"

About letting me live.

"Can you explain Sasuke-kun?"

He let me live because he said I was too weak to be worth killing.

I want to kill him before he changes his mind.

"…And after you do that Sasuke-kun, what will you do?"

Rebuild my clan.

"Do you plan to start a family, Sasuke-kun?"

Isn't that the condition to rebuilding my clan?

"That isn't an answer Sasuke-kun."

No, it isn't.

Eventually, he came to a balance. A "Mask" he called it. It was the only way they would let him leave the hospital and the supervision of Yamanaka, and without it, he would be stuck pointlessly answering questions for much longer.

"Ah, how are you feeling today Uchiha-san?"

He sat on the bed. His gaze flickered over to the nurse. Most certainly, she was another one of Yamanaka's plants here to conduct a 'hidden' experiment on his 'social' capacity and mental wellbeing. She was a genuine nurse, but this did not prevent her from being another tool in the man's arsenal.

This was the way a.d.u.l.ts worked, he realized. With 'tools' of various forms and abilities, but somehow, they refused to blatantly and explicitly admit that they utilized people as tools, and instead found euphemism upon euphemism in order to express these sentiments. It was tiring and needless. Posturing and pointless.

They called it: 'Politeness.'

"Fine. A little bit hungry."

The nurse gave him an expression that he now recalled, thanks to Yamanaka's lessons, was called a 'smile.' He remembered having this expression a lot, before the massacre. Now, it felt foreign.

"Are the portions of the meals provided not enough?"

He remembered, that it was often considered appropriate to air one's grievances in small amounts. Excessively stating it would be considered 'whining' or 'complaining' and would be a disagreeable trait. Understating it would make one be considered a 'softy' or 'spineless' and was likewise a disagreeable trait.

"It's not about quantity. It's the quality."

The 'smile' did not leave her face. If anything, an aspect of authenticity was added to it.

"You don't like the Hospital food Uchiha-san?"

I would not feed it to dogs were I perchance to own them.

He could not state that, of course, no matter how true he felt such a sentiment was. Rather, he needed to appeal to the nurse's own instincts in order to ensure his disapproval possessed a reasonable, grounded basis. A basis in which she could 'relate' with.

"I miss the food my mother used to make me." He said. "There was… more, to it."

He found it difficult to place the emotion on the nurse's face. However, it seemed to hover somewhere between discomfort and what Yamanaka called 'sympathy.' Yamanaka often, not so subtly, implied that he ought to possess 'more' of it, and that he was lacking in it.

He ignored the irrelevance of that thought and focused instead on his next approach. Offers of aid or assistance – requesting 'favors' from people often supposedly had numerous benefits.

"Would you… be able to help me, get some snacks from outside… please?"

"A-ah – well, I'm not really supposed to –"

"I won't tell anyone. And it would mean a lot."

Hesitation. Uncertainty. Eventually, reluctance and acceptance.

"Fine… I suppose just this once." She said. "What would you like to have?"

He memorized the exact pattern of her lips. The way and manner it creased and curved and upturned in her 'smile.' His brain, the brain of an Uchiha, hardwired with neurons and synapses configured for the ability to copy and record information courtesy of their eyes, focused on that image, and flawlessly, he replicated it.

Uchiha Sasuke 'smiled.'

"What would you recommend?"

Yamanaka Inoichi rubbed his nose in irritation.

"I can't believe she did that!"

This was bad.

"I know! I mean – there the doctor was, and she sauntered in with her robes and just dr.a.p.ed herself all over him – in the middle of a consultation!"

This was worse than he anticipated.

"Maybe she didn't see the patient?"

"I wouldn't really blame her, she's known for being such an airhead at times –"

He coughed into his hand, standing at the special ward that was designated for Uchiha Sasuke, and within the room, the blonde-haired nurse sitting on the patient's hospital bed and chatting away animatedly went rigid as she immediately sat up straight and tried her best to look professional.

"Y-Yamanaka-sama – I was just – checking his vitals –"

He turned his attention to the young boy who was on the bed, his face the complete mask of innocence, as he held two sticks of pocky in his fingers and slowly munched on it.

"So I see." He said without inflexion, before turning to the boy in question. "Enjoying your snack, Sasuke-kun?"

The boy 'smiled' at him. If Yamanaka Inoichi was not an expert in the mind arts, and someone who had spent years in the Torture and Interrogation department, he would have believed that smile was the genuine article. No, even with all his experience, it was only the prior knowledge he possessed of the circ.u.mstances that enabled him to understand the fact that the smile was not real.

Even more so, because he knew exactly where he had seen that smile before.

"Nurse, I believe we should allow Sasuke-kun some more bedrest."

He walked out, and the nurse, understanding the words, followed him. He made sure to go pass the ANBU guards stationed outside the boy's door, and past a reasonable enough distance, before turning around and landing a stern glare at the woman in question.

"And what exactly do you think you were doing?"

"Yamanaka-sama – I was conversing with him as you said! He even asked me to purchase some snacks and –"

"No," Inoichi shook his head. "You weren't talking to him. You were talking to yourself."

"W-what?"

Inoichi sighed. "That boy… he wasn't interested in a single thing you said. Most likely, he will remember every word you uttered and every joke, every laugh and every motion – but he was not invested in a word you said or a thing you had to say. He was observing you. Using you as a reference for how to act and behave and what to say –" he felt his irritation grow.

"Problematically, at a point, he stopped observing you and started copying you. Mimicking everything you did or said. You failed to take note of this – because you, like most people – felt flattered by his seeming interest, and now – now you've cemented it in his mind that all he needs to do to properly function is copy what the other person is doing."

And he did it to a frightening level of accuracy that was almost unnerving.

"He – he was copying me? But how – I mean, it didn't feel like – he responded to everything I said and –"

"It didn't feel like you were talking to yourself?"

She nodded, slowly.

Inoichi knew why this was, because he, unlike most people, knew basic biology. "It's because he's an Uchiha."

"…an Uchiha?"

"Contrary to what most people think, we don't see with our eyes. We see with our brains. Our eyes are merely cameras reflecting light, and it is our brain that makes sense of that information and renders it for us in what we call sight." Inoichi explained. "Clans with Dojutsu not only have different eyes, they have different brain structures to go with them. The Uchiha Clan's Sharingan which grants the ability to copy Jutsu and memorize information without forgetting has unexpected influence on their brain structure."

The Yamanaka Clan Head frowned. "Sasuke is essentially using parts of his brain connected with his Sharingan's sight and ability – even without realizing it. He is memorizing everything, storing it, and then recreating it in a manner that would suite him, whilst removing any imperfections that don't fit along the way."

Imitating? No, he wasn't just imitating her. He was going above and beyond. He was recreating and improving her. She was talking to a version of herself that could realistically apply to a seven-year-old male, and that was better than her. It was essentially copying a jutsu, and then using it in a way that fit you perfectly, which made it better and more effective than anything the original user could muster.

Hopefully, he didn't even realize he was doing it. However, that was unlikely.

Worse? He had seen its effectiveness first hand, meaning, he would not stop doing it.

Anyone who spoke to Uchiha Sasuke would essentially be speaking to a version of themselves they could only wish they were.

It would be good, a powerful, deadly skill that Inoichi would have wished upon anyone, anyone, but a seven-year-old. The sheer capacity for abuse of such power, willingly or unwillingly, was enormous.

He could not, in his good conscience, let that happen.

"Sasuke-kun –"

"Inoichi-san –"

"I know what you're doing Sasuke-kun."

"And what am I doing, Inoichi-san?"

"You cannot simply copy other people's personalities and project it back at them."

"Is there a reason why I should not?"

Inoichi found his own temperament getting slightly annoyed at seeing Sasuke's expression. It was a dead-on impression of his own, and it was incredibly unnerving when he realized that the speech patterns and mannerisms were copied down to the letter. Even his gaze, his sitting position, his unconscious movements –

"Because it's impolite Sasuke-kun."

"Is it more or less impolite than my normal behaviour?"

Inoichi paused. Since the boy woke up, he seemed to lose the ability to understand emotions or read certain social cues. He was frank and blunt, but out of ignorance, which was also highly problematic and, if he was being honest, it was also incredibly aggravating.

"We're not comparing them."

"Because you know I would default on the one that is less impolite."

"I didn't say that, Sasuke-kun."

"But you didn't have to, Inoichi-san."

Inoichi found his patience waning.

"You are discomforted." Sasuke said, nodding his head in a placating manner.

"That would be putting it mildly."

"Why?"

"Because I am attempting to help you Sasuke-kun, and this, this won't make you better."

"Why are you attempting to help me?" Sasuke asked.

"Because it's my job."

"So if it were not your job, you would not attempt to help me?"

Inoichi frowned. "I would still try to help you."

"Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Sasuke-kun."

"Inoichi-san, are you trying to help me because it's the right thing to do, or because you want to be able to hold your head high and say 'I did the right thing'?"

Inoichi paused at the question.

"That's an unfair question to ask Sasuke-kun."

"So it's for the latter. And also because Hokage-sama asked you to, didn't he? It would lower your credibility if you failed at helping me, but increase it if you succeed."

"…what are you getting at?"

"No one does anything for selfless reasons Inoichi-san. So why do we pretend to?"

"That worldview is too cynical for a child."

"I stopped being a child when my parents died, Inoichi-san."

Inoichi did not have a suitable retort to that.

"I thought you didn't care about their deaths."

"Why would you think that?"

"You don't grieve for them. Mourn them. Nor did you bother attempting to attend their funerals."

"I saw them die thousands of times. Again and again and again. Inoichi-san, you would forgive me, if I don't want to see them dead one last time."

Inoichi resisted the urge to wince. He resisted it, and realized he was getting somewhere. Strange as it was, Sasuke, while doing his best to imitate him, did not realize that he was finally opening up. Asking the hard questions. Answering the difficult ones. By pretending to be someone else, and absorbing that person's personality into his own –

Could…

Could this actually be a good thing?

The potential for disaster was present, but now, he realized, the potential for healing was also present.

"Sasuke-kun, you never talk about the Genjutsu that Itachi put you under."

"Why should I talk about it, Inoichi-san?"

"It left a significant amount of damage on your psyche Sasuke-kun. Don't you think that's worth discussing?"

"No."

Inoichi frowned. He pushed too hard. He pushed too hard too fast and the boy clammed up again. Already, he could see it, he stopped copying him. He stopped being 'Yamanaka Inoichi' and returned to his default. A seven-year-old boy with perpetually sharp-yet-dull expression, and eyes which scanned the world whilst simultaneously appearing expressionless.

Inoichi knew that it was impossible for him to completely fix all of Uchiha Sasuke's problems. Most likely, the best he could do was ensure that the boy could return to society as a fully functioning member with the occasional one or two quirks and hiccups. You could not be a shinobi without eccentricities or coping mechanisms, as the amount of violence and chaos you witnessed in your lifetime would leave you scarred mentally, physically and emotionally.

But when you start out with scars –

It became slightly worse. Hatake Kakashi sprung to mind, the boy who returned home to his father's suicide – he had grown and developed, but eventually, that original scar never faded, and more and more kept compiling upon them. Losing his best friend, having to kill his teammate who had romantic feelings for him, and then losing his mentor and father-figure. Too many for one boy. Now, he had thrown himself into ANBU work and was doing more and more S-Rank and A-Rank missions, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that the young boy craved death as an escape.

What sort of individual would Uchiha Sasuke become, when the extra scars were compiled on top of this one? On top of having his entire family and clan massacred at the hand of the one person he idolized the most? What would happen if he fell in love and then lost his lover, or made friends and watched them die, or any other number of common events that came with their lifestyle?

How many scars could he take before it became too many?

At what point would he break?

"When can I leave this place Yamanaka?"

Uchiha Sasuke spoke, and Yamanaka Inoichi took a long, deep breath.

"Today."

The whispers were everywhere.

"That's him?"

"The Last Uchiha –"

"Oh dear, that poor thing –"

"I can't believe what happened – his own brother –"

"Shush! He can probably hear you!"

He could hear them. All of them. Their miserable attempts at being discreet failed horrendously and he could overhear each and every word and each and every whisper. For now, two ANBU guards were his escorts. In 'secret' of course, as they watched him from the rooftops whilst he voyaged the streets and roads alone.

Their words, he realized, were born out of 'pity.' An emotion which was supposedly thought to be noble, but was rather an elevated and socially-accepted form of degradation. Pity was born from the sense and feeling that you were better off or superior to that in which deserved your sympathy. One could not pity someone who was more fortunate than themselves.

He would admit that their pity was something which irritated him. However, he also saw the potential benefits where they lay. One who was pitied could leverage that emotion and convert it into guilt, which was a prime emotion needed to extract favors. He made sure to pay attention to those who pitied him, and made sure to note later if there would be something of benefit to gain from those individuals.

Eventually, he made his way to his clan compound. He stopped at the gates. A nagging sensation on his neck. He wasn't sure how long it was that he stood at the gates of the compound.

Back here.

The last time he entered this place –

He disregarded the sensation and irrationality of the belief that Itachi was still inside. Still waiting. Still ready to finish off the job. Still ready to look down and him, and call him –

"Foolish little brother."

The place was empty.

Empty.

Previously bustling and moving, filled with children, noises, sounds, people, events and activities. The absence of these things made him feel like it was an illusion. Somehow.

The sight of this place, filled with people running from Itachi's blade felt more real than the sight of it empty.

Silent.

Perfectly silent.

His every footstep echoed.

His sandals crunching against sand and granite reverberated.

He made his way back to his house. He stood in front of the door. Slowly, he opened it.

His nose was immediately assaulted with the smell of blood.

"S-s-sasuke –kun –"

A part of him immediately expected his mother to crawl on the floor, bleeding, and to beg for him to saver her. He counted the seconds.

She wasn't there.

This was real.

This is real.

…And they'd removed the bodies, but no one had touched the house. No one had cleaned it. The blood splatters were still there. The trails were still there. The smells were still there.

Uchiha Sasuke took a look at his empty house.

And his throat itched.

And that noise, that irritating noise that had always been with him in the genjutsu –

He heard it in full force.

He finally knew what it was. Finally, he understood.

It was his scream.

Chapter

Whoa, what the f.u.c.k? This story has follows? Huh. I thought everyone was always too busy sucking Naruto's d.i.c.k to care about a Sasuke-fic. Strange.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Roll.

Dip.

Squeeze.

Drop.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Uchiha Sasuke took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow as his gaze landed once more on the living room, which, after several hours, was now effectively devoid of blood. Spotless, sparkling, enough so that he could see his own dull-faced reflection in the floor. The overwhelming smell of bleach filled the room, penetrating his nostrils and stinging at his eyes. The only audible sound present was the slow, repetitive tick-tock, tick-tock, of the room's wall clock.

His gaze flickered to what had previously been a clear bucket of soapy water. Red. It was tinged an overwhelming red that seemed to be the hallmark of the Uchiha Clan. Red blood. Red eyes. Red fan. Red fire.

Red.

Foolish little brother –

He took in a sharp breath, shaking his head as he prevented the memory of the scene from replaying in his mind. It was burned into his retinas, scarred into his brain, that even the slightest thing could cause it to repeat, like a broken song stuck on an endless loop.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

He sat in the room, the silent room, the entirely silent compound, and found his lips pursing themselves in distaste. Mechanically, his eyes swung over to the clock that hung above.

11:43 AM

Sasuke realized he hadn't eaten in hours. Although the hospital food was arguably distasteful, it was better than going on, completely hungry. He rose from his position on the pristine floor, staring once more at his reflection. The image he saw almost felt foreign. He lifted the bucket filled with bloody water, grabbed the rag, and carefully, moved out of the living room and to the bathroom. He dumped the contents of the bucket into the toilet, flushing it immediately afterwards.

He found the red tint disagreeable.

He grabbed the bleach and soap once more, and went to work.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub

Scrub.

The dull echo of someone knocking against the living room door made him stop his cleaning. He'd long since moved on from cleaning the toilet to scrubbing the bathroom, and gone from scrubbing the bathroom back to scrubbing the floors without even noticing.

"Uchiha-san… are you in there?"

He contemplated not responding, but realized that it would lead to more problems than he desired. Slowly, he rose, moving to the door, before sliding it open. His gaze took in the sight of his visitors effortlessly, with one look, he'd memorized their brown hair, clearly defined fangs, musculature and appearance. Both were female. The older one was accompanied by what appeared to be a wolf, and the younger one was unaccompanied by any animals.

"Good afternoon, Uchiha-san."

It was the younger one who spoke. Sasuke estimated her age, about two to three years older than himself. Young, by most standards, but not by the standards of shinobi. The older woman seemed to be eyeing him warily, as was the wolf. There was an intelligence in the creature's eyes that had no place being there.

"So… Sasuke is it." The older woman spoke, and Sasuke realized he had not returned their greetings and had merely been observing them. The older woman had something of a rough voice, it suited her animalistic appearance.

He still didn't respond.

He noted, immediately, that his silence and straightforward stare seemed to unnerve them. Should he switch tactics? The last thing he desired was to be put back in the care of the Yamanaka and be asked trifling questions. It was entirely possible that these women were agents of either the Yamanaka or the Hokage, sent here as a test for him.

"Yes." He spoke up. "Can I help you with anything?"

His mind worked on overdrive as he scrutinized them. The younger girl, he catalogued and memorized every tick, every movement, everything from her posture, to the direction her feet pointed, to the manner in which she moved her hands and rested her shoulders.

Should he reflect them?

He thought it over. If they truly were Yamanaka agents, they would be on guard for such. It would not do him any benefits for everyone to become aware of what he was capable of. If people were consciously aware that he was reflecting their own personalities and opinions back at them, the effect would be deemed insulting and irritating, rather than charming. Yamanaka already proved this.

"I am Inuzuka Tsume. This is my daughter, Hana." The older woman responded. "We… came to offer our condolences at your loss."

Sasuke rose an eyebrow at the phrase. "What good are your condolences to me?"

The woman frowned deeply. Sasuke realized it was perhaps the wrong thing to say. Yet, he didn't really have it in him to attempt to say otherwise.

"Your mother was a close friend of mine."

"And I do not see how that makes your condolences any more valuable."

She growled a bit at him, and Sasuke could pick apart the tiny things from how her fists balled and how her posture grew wider that the woman was filled with the emotion called 'anger'.

"I heard what happened to you," she said, "But don't think that gives you the right to disrespect anyone you want, brat."

Sasuke's brow furrowed. "Disrespect?"

"Ka-san," the younger girl said, seemingly having a warning tone.

"No, Hana, I need to know," Tsume said, before turning her attention back on Sasuke. "You didn't even come for her funeral! Your mother's funeral! You haven't gone to pay any respects, or even visit her grave! Do you even mourn her?"

Sasuke's lips thinned. He was by no means dull or slow. He could tell now, the real reason this woman had come to his doorsteps.

"You came to visit a recently orphaned child to ask him if he mourns his mother."

The woman winced at the statement.

"Leave." The boy spoke. "Don't come back."

The woman seemed to want to say something, but her wolf let out a slow growl, and she grit her teeth, before storming off. Sasuke watched her leave, before he noticed that the younger woman wasn't leaving.

"Please don't take anything my mother said personal… she was really close with Mikoto-san and is grieving and torn up about her death. But, she's so hot-headed that she doesn't know how to –"

"I don't care."

The girl flinched.

"Leave."

The girl bowed meekly, before walking away as well. Sasuke ensured that they'd left, exiting the Uchiha Clan Compound, before slowly turning around and closing his door.

The little encounter taught him three things.

One, his actions (or inactions) were being scrutinized. Was it such a big deal if a child refused to attend the funeral of all his family members? Of his extended cousins, uncles, and parents?

The answer was apparently yes. Reputation was an important thing in this village. It seemed to pride itself on a sense of family. A sense of communal relations. It would be deemed as more than odd, or perhaps a sign of ill-intentions if one did not apparently grieve or mourn for the deceased in a manner that could be seen and nodded to by the thralls of society.

How irritating.

Two, he needed to find a way to make sure no one could enter the Uchiha Clan Compound without him knowing. There were no more guards or sentries watching the place, and if Tsume and her mother had been a silent thief or an assassin instead, Sasuke would have had no way of knowing.

The third thing was perhaps the most obvious. People are selfish. Self-interest was what motivated Tsume, a selfish desire to alleviate whatever grief or sentiment she held about her friend's death. A selfish desire which led her here to make thoughtless comments.

At the end of the day, all she'd done was give Sasuke the ammunition to make requests of her in form of reparation, and have her be unable to refuse without further ruining her own reputation, which tied back to the first point.

Sasuke knew that politics was one of the major things his father dabbled in. Often times, he'd eavesdrop on his father's political lessons with his brother, listening to how his father explained that all of Konoha was filled with clans each jockeying and vying for as much power, control and strength that they desired. These lessons were often filled with comments as to how the village was afraid of the Uchiha, and how the Uchiha's political clout was being weakened through rumors of some sort.

He had paid little attention to it then, but now, he had no choice.

He was the Last Uchiha. A title that came with all the political responsibilities and significance. By all means, he was now the sole hope Konoha possessed to ever regain the Uchiha Clan.

He'd told Yamanaka that he stopped being a child when he watched his parents die in front of him.

He was only now realizing how true that was.

"I need to get started."

XXXXXXXXX

"Are you certain you want to do this so soon Uchiha-san? I would understand if you –"

"I am."

Sasuke stared unerringly at the man in front of him. His gaze flickered lightly as he took in the man's appearance. His posture. His tone of voice. The expressions on his face. Then, slowly, he copied them, mimicked them, his hands entering a steeple, his smile calm and relaxing, his body language morphing to mimic even the tiniest movements.

The Banker stared at him, blinking, and no doubt confused as to his sudden change in disposition.

"Uchiha-san –"

"Matsumoto-san," he cut him off. "I understand and appreciate your concern for my mental well-being. It shows strength of character and compassion to be hesitant to immediately begin any business with what you feel is a grieving child."

Incline the head. Purse the lips. Narrow the eyes and quaver the voice slightly to add depth and realism.

"However," look straight up, display conviction. "I am the Last Uchiha. I must not waver nor falter. I cannot show weakness or lounge around in grief. To do so would be an insult to my clan, an offense to their honor. So, if you would be so kind as to let us commence business?"

The Banker stared, Sasuke monitored his reaction. Surprise. The tilting of the eyebrows and the slight widening of the pupils. Understanding.

"Ah – of course, of course Uchiha-sama, I understand."

Sasuke noted the change in honorifics.

"Being one of the last living relative of anyone who bore the Uchiha surname in Konohagakure no Sato, you are now the owner of numerous bank accounts, lands, heirlooms, businesses, properties, houses and quite a deal more." The Banker reached for a pair of glasses, before bringing out a small parchment.

"Considering that many prominent members of the Uchiha Clan were shinobi and kunoichi who saved a majority of their earnings from missions, you have a ridiculous fortune on your hands Uchiha-sama."

He knew. He wasn't stupid. His clan had never been poor, and although they were arguably not the wealthiest in the village, they ranked amongst the top five.

"There is more money here than could possibly be spent in one lifetime." Banker Matsumoto said. "Do you have a particular intention you wish to use it for?"

"Yes."

The Banker pulled off his glasses. Sasuke stared straight into his eyes.

"I'm going to use it to become better."

"Become… better?" The Banker frowned. "I am afraid I don't understand."

Sasuke mimicked and reflected the man's smile he'd copied earlier.

"You will."

XXXXXX

Akimichi Chota would admit that she was confused with the extremely odd request brought to her by the recently orphaned Uchiha Heir.

"You'll pay me just to watch me… cook?"

"Yes."

He said the word earnestly, or rather, as earnestly as a child whose expression was blank and vacant could. Here at Yakinu Q, she admitted that she'd gotten some weird requests before, courtesy of numerous of her clan members desiring a different variety of food that was absolutely asinine to eat together, but this –

"Why?" she asked, rubbing the side of her cheek in confusion.

He seemed to struggle with something, before, eventually, he spoke. "My mother died before I could learn how. She always cooked meals at home, and I do not know how to cook for myself."

The woman winced slightly at the reminder. She looked over the boy again, remembering how young he was.

"It would help me if I watched you cook, so I could know how to do so for myself."

He bowed a bit.

"I understand that it is a selfish request, which is why I would reimburse you for your time with a suitable pay. Please accept my request."

So polite! The manner in which he spoke reminded her more of a Hyuga than an Uchiha. She'd heard rumors that a powerful genjutsu had been used on him which made him cold and standoffish, but she didn't see that. No, she saw a recently orphaned child who simply had no idea how to interact with people and was doing his best to learn.

"Raise your head boy, please." She said with a sigh, watching as he did so. "I can't take your money, no matter how much it is." Taking money from an orphan child just so she could teach him to cook? If that got out, she'd be shaming not only herself, but her entire clan.

He opened his mouth, but she stopped him.

"I didn't say I wouldn't teach you, however."

He blinked, seemingly confused.

"I – I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand?"

"Teaching me without collecting any compensation. I would be intruding on your time, discomforting you from your daily activities and life without any recompense. Despite numerous drawbacks, why would you help me without any added benefits to yourself?"

"Because I'm an Akimichi boy!" she gave a hearty laugh "If I cannot so much as teach people about the glory and beauty of cooking a great meal, I'd have shamed my clan and ancestors."

The boy seemed to regard her for a few moments, before nodding slowly. "I understand. Your motivations are immaterial. Thank you."

He's a weird one though – "Er – I guess you could say that." She shrugged. "So, when do you want to start?"

The boy's eyes gleamed.

"Now."

XXXXXX

Sasuke was irritated with this turn of events.

"Please let go of me Chota-sensei."

The woman was wrapped against him in a large hug, weeping comically. "Prodigy! You're a prodigy Sasuke-chan! Oh! I'm so proud! If only my little Choji-kun could take to cooking as quickly as you do!"

The woman's grip was iron-clad. The difficulty he was having in prying her off was becoming absolutely ridiculous.

"To learn how to perfectly cut an onion into equivalent pieces from watching me do it once, to be capable of flawlessly following recipes from the cook book – it's your first time cooking and you've mastered cooking gourmet meals!"

A sharp gleam entered her eyes.

"Sasuke-chan, would you mind becoming part of my family? I'd adopt you and –"

The temperature of the room dropped rapidly.

"No."

The woman flinched back and her hands left him. "I – I'm so sorry – I got carried away. I shouldn't have…"

He contemplated his options, before momentarily bowing to his brief one-time sensei. "I appreciate all that you've done for me Chota-sensei. Thank you for having me in your care."

"W-wait – you're… why do you make it sound as though you're not coming back tomorrow?"

"I am not." He said. "My goal was to learn how to prepare basic meals so as to sustain myself. I've accomplished that and beyond."

He knew how to bake now. He knew the difference between types of pepper, and the difference between dicing, slicing and cutting. In a sense, he'd gotten overqualified. Regardless, no knowledge acquired was useless.

Cooking was surprisingly easy to grasp when all you did was copy and modify an expert. You removed the tiny errors and discrepancies you noticed in the expert's movements and applications, drastically dividing your margin of error and attaining a nigh-perfect result each and every time.

Essentially, if Sasuke saw you do it, he could do it better.

"But – but – but – I – I haven't taught you er – the – special recipes! And – and –"

He bowed again. Semi-formal, his head never reaching his waist.

"Thank you for everything, Sensei."

He proceeded to leave Yakinu Q, stepping out into the cool night breeze of Konohagakure no Sato. Approaching this restaurant had not been accidental, but rather, a perfectly generated plan formulated after deep contemplation. Akimichi Chota was the wife of Akimichi Choza, the clan head. Integrating himself into the woman's fold would mean that whatever impressions she developed of him would transfer over to her husband. Once it did, it would transfer to the rest of the clan.

His reputation would build up amongst their members easily enough. Once it reached a suitable point, he could utilize it as another tool in his arsenal against him.

More so, he knew that the ANBU agents were still scrutinizing him. He couldn't detect them, but there was that feeling of being watched. As much as he would prefer to begin his training regiment, he could not do so without all reports of what he did being delivered to Yamanaka or the Hokage.

No, for now, his actions would vary from Yamanaka's expectations. No doubt the man believed that Sasuke would rush headlong into training upon being released from the hospital. Sasuke was not going to give him the satisfaction of being capable of predicting all his actions.

For now, he possessed a list of necessities that needed to be completed.

"You'll pay me just to watch me sew and stitch some clothes? Why?"

"My mother died before I learned how and…"

"You don't have to pay to watch me make furniture and cut wood boy. I'm just a carpenter. Why would you want to?"

"My father died before I learned how and…"

"Really? There's nothing remotely interesting about watching a man like me work the forge. What do you even gain out of it?"

"Members of my clan often crafted their own weapons. But they died before I learned how and…"

"I understand that I'm the finest calligrapher in the village. But do you truly want to part with your money just to watch me write? Why?"

"My father…"

"Y-you… want to learn about flowers and herbs? You want to pay me to learn about them? Why would you want to do something like that?"

"My mother…"

"I thought you wanted to be a shinobi. Why would you want to learn about tracking and hunting animals?"

"Members of my clan…"

"Really? You want to watch me sculpt? You'll even pay? Why would you –"

"Just take the money."

XXX

It had been exactly one week since Sasuke found himself discharged from the hospital. It had been the most eventful week he could recall in his life. Knowledge brimmed in his head and at his fingertips. The movements of a skilled tailor and calligrapher aided his dexterity. The hardiness and carefulness of a skilled blacksmith and carpenter aided in developing his strength. The silence, carefulness and awareness of a skilled hunter and horticulturist aided his stealth and cognizance.

Alone, they were mundane activities. Together –

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

Sasuke took a deep, calm breath as he looked at the training dummy in front of him pelted with shuriken. Each and every shuriken struck lethal points. The forehead and the chest were the major targets with more shuriken than others.

He hadn't practiced since the massacre, and even before the massacre, his aim had never been so precise.

But now?

His hands were steady. They possessed a subconscious amalgamation of steadiness that had sorely been lacking beforehand. Stationary targets were not even a challenge, even from thirty feet or ten meters away.

So he began learning how to throw kunai and shuriken in odd positions.

Upside down. Falling. Twisting. Turning. While dizzy.

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

Consecutive perfect marks.

Then, he moved to the hardest test.

Curving shuriken around corners.

The tree with a target outside his range of vision remained exactly as he remembered it. His mind hazed to a distant, almost foreign time, when he climbed the shoulders of someone, and watched with awe and pride and glee as that someone perfected his techniques and always unerringly failed to hit the target, despite not seeing it.

Living in his brother's shadow, for as long as he had, being considered average in respect to his intellectually and unnaturally gifted sibling –

Sasuke's gaze cooled. He felt the hot afternoon sun bathing down on him. He listened sharply for the wind, as the hunter had informed him, the wind could either be your ally or your enemy. His body remained loose, as the calligrapher had informed him. The stroke of the wrist was not done with only the wrist, but the entire body. The entire body was the brush, his target was his canvas, and his weapon was the paint.

His right hand blurred out two shuriken.

The weapons whizzed in the air, moving in seemingly different directions.

The wind.

Until the wind he'd accounted for kicked in, curving the left moving shuriken until it struck the right one. The impact let out a brief spark and a clang of steel meeting steel, as one shuriken crashed into the back of the tree, and the other sailed off to strike an unsuspecting bird straight in the neck.

He moved, first, at a steady gait. Then, he broke into a light jog. Finally, he found himself sprinting, sprinting until he reached behind the tree and skid to a stop to check, and confirm –

Dead center.

Bullseye.

His lips, slowly, engaged themselves into a tiny twitch of satisfaction.

Now, to do it blindfolded.

XXXXXXX

Hokage's Office

"Neko. Report."

The cat masked ANBU rose from her kneeling position, before speaking. "Uchiha Sasuke's activities in the past week since his discharge from the hospital has been mostly mundane."

Yamanaka Inoichi and Sarutobi Hiruzen looked at each other, not quite sure what to make of that information, which went against what they'd expected.

"Mundane? Mundane how?"

"He has been seen, learning how to cook from Akimichi Choza-san. Learning how to track and hunt from members of the Inuzuka Clan. Learning proper calligraphy from a member of the Sarutobi Clan. Learning blacksmithing from Konoha's Higurashi-san. Learning about herbs and flowers from your wife, Inoichi-san –"

Inoichi almost spluttered. "From my wife?"

Hiruzen gave him a look. "She did not inform you of it?"

"No, she certainly did not. Why wouldn't she tell me that she's tutoring Sasuke?"

"She was." Neko corrected.

"Was?" Inoichi asked.

"All of Uchiha-san's lessons with his tutors lasted exactly one day. And…" Neko hesitated. "From the reports, all he needed was one day each. One day to master various skills and grasp concepts and information that would and should often take years to master."

The room was silent.

"Of course." Inoichi chuckled. "Of course he would only need one day. Copying experts – with his penchant for improving –" the man shuddered.

"Inoichi?" Hiruzen asked tentatively.

"Hokage-sama…" Inoichi said, shaking his head "Itachi inadvertently created a monster when he cast that genjutsu on Sasuke."

"I am not certain I follow, Inoichi."

"The effects of the Genjutsu caused brain damage to Uchiha-san which enables him to consciously or subconsciously activate parts of his brain connected to his Kekkai Genkai." Inoichi explained. "Essentially, Uchiha-san's brain is always copying and memorizing every single thing and detail he sees, it's processing that information as quickly as it copies it, and sending information to his body on how to use and improve what he's recently copied."

Understanding dawned on Hiruzen's face. "You can't mean –"

"If Uchiha-san were to see an action once, any action, he'd be capable of learning how to perfectly perform it, and improve it to suit him. There are certain limitations, but it's only a matter of working around them."

"That is rather extraordinary." Hiruzen breathed. "I believe Uchiha-san will become quite the strong shinobi."

"Of that there is no doubt." Inoichi responded. "However, it's his mental stability and allegiance that I call into question. He's not even ten yet –"

"There is no need for concern, Inoichi. As you say, the boy is not even up to ten years of age yet." Hiruzen responded. "I believe, with time, we can warm his heart and make him understand that Konoha is his family. We're here for him. If we offer him trust, he'll be more inclined to trust us in return."

Inoichi wondered if it'd truly be that simple. Still, he acquiesced to the Hokage.

"Neko, you'll continue to watch Uchiha Sasuke until the end of the month. At which point, we'll know for certain his true intentions, and see to it about letting him continue the Academy."

She saluted. "As you command, Hokage-sama."

Inoichi, on the other hand, rubbed his chin as he contemplated why exactly his wife would fail to inform him of tutoring Uchiha-san.

There's something off here… I just don't know what it is.

XXXXX

Chip.

Chip.

Chip.

Chip.

Scr.a.p.e.

Scr.a.p.e.

Scratch.

Scratch.

He was aware of the single pair of eyes on him, even as he worked away furiously at the gargantuan piece of wood with his kunai. The ANBU was still watching him. Though, their numbers had reduced significantly. It was only one person now. After being used to their presence for so long, he'd learned to be able to judge how many they were. Although, finding them was still a bit too difficult.

A month was his estimate. After a month, they would cease their reconnaissance on him, and proceed to their normal business.

It was no matter. He knew what he would be doing for the next month.

Chip.

Chip.

Chip.

Chip.

Scr.a.p.e.

Scratch.

Actions often spoke louder than words, and he was going to be speaking very, very loudly.

XXXXXX

She watched him work fervently.

Day, after day.

She was assigned to watch him for any suspicious or potentially suicidal or hostile activities. Whatever she expected, however, was different from what she actually bore witness to. Day in and day out, he'd come to the front of his clan gates, the large piece of wood that easily towered over seven meters tall, and he'd continuously work on it. Some days, he worked on it with a kunai. Other days, he worked on it with a sword. He used mostly weapons, his deft hands moving expertly, never tiring, never so much as stopping for even a lunch break.

From sun came up till it went down, he was there.

Chipping away at the wood. Slashing and cutting.

Two weeks had passed before the wood gained a distinctly human shape. Two, human shapes. One clearly male, and one clearly female.

A part of her felt it wasn't right. There was no way…

By the third week, the human shapes had smoothed out into nice, elegant robes.

By the fourth week, when her assignment was over, he'd completed it.

XXXXXXX

Hiruzen Sarutobi let the smoke exit from his pipe silently, even as he stared up at the wooden statues. He wasn't the only one there, of course. Oh, no, behind him, a large amount of villagers, shinobi and clansmen alike stood in awe and sheer fascination, all of them come to see what was rapidly becoming the second most brilliant carving in all of Konohagakure, second only to the Hokage Mountain itself.

It went against everything people knew about Uchiha Sasuke. He was the silent, socially awkward boy who was recently orphaned. He was a boy who was excessively polite, but seemed to have no time for frivolous things or sentimentality. There was probably not a single artistic or sensitive bone in his body, as he was, after all, the boy who'd adamantly and stubbornly refused to attend the funerals of his family members.

"Amazing!"

"It's… beautiful!"

"He… he really made this himself?"

The seven-year old Uchiha Sasuke stood proudly beside the tall, 22-feet wooden carving of Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto, dressed in the formal robes and regalia of their clan. The carving was the most photo-realistic thing Hiruzen had ever seen, despite being made from wood. Every single detail felt polished and refined, as though taken straight from a picture.

Uchiha Fugaku stared straight ahead, his expression placated into a firm, but still kind visage. Uchiha Mikoto had the air of a Yamamoto Nadeshiko. The elegant court woman, her right hand holding a fan with the Uchiha Clan symbol. The obi of her gown was done elegantly and her stature was the embodiment of propriety.

Hiruzen walked forward, slowly touching the carving to marvel at the smoothness and woodwork.

He looked over to Sasuke, noticing the boy's expressionless face, and Hiruzen couldn't help but smile at the boy. No doubt, no matter what had happened to him, his heart, the heart and love of a child for their parents, for their family, for their home – it was there.

Uchiha Sasuke had heart.

Clearing his throat to silence the crowd all staring and commenting at the carving, he began.

"We are here today to unveil one of Konohagakure's finest artworks, presented to us by one of our very own, in honor of his parents, Uchiha Sasuke."

The boy turned to stare at him in disbelief, clearly not expecting to take center stage. Hiruzen found it refreshing, as his eyes twinkled.

"Go on."

Sasuke walked forward, gazing straight ahead into the crowd. There was silence. Some mutterings and uncertainty. It was the first time he'd been thrust into such a public limelight. The first time the people were seeing him as more than the victim, the person handed unfortunate circ.u.mstances.

It was one of Hiruzen's worries that the people of Konohagakure would continue to see Sasuke in that manner. A victim. The sole survivor of a horrible event. The Last Uchiha. The negative feedback would have damned Sasuke to a life of either pity or sympathy, one which would have enraged the boy and made him hate and loathe the village even more. No – the survivors of tragic events did not need pity.

Pity did not heal them.

It belittled them.

Somehow, whether or not he knew it, Sasuke had done a lot to alter his perception in the eyes of the villagers. A way to change his own public opinion. A way to be seen as more than just the one bad day that ruined his life. A way to stop being viewed and remembered only in lieu of a tragedy that befell him.

"My parents are dead."

The blunt declaration made Hiruzen wince.

"But they are not forgotten. I will not forget them. And now…"

He gestured to the giant carving.

"Neither will you."

Sheer. Silence.

No one said a word, or moved, as Uchiha Sasuke put his hands in his pockets, and walked straight into his compound, silently closing the gates behind him.