Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ From Here to Eternity ❯ The Eye ( Chapter 37 )

Kat: GRAWR! Ethe-kun FINALLY reviewed! Huzzah! Huzzah!

 

All: …Huzzah.

 

Kat: … - - -cough- Anyway… a thousand thank-yous to everyone who reviewed! I'm sorry, but I REALLY wanted to get this chapter up, and I didn't have time to reply! But I WILL reply next time, I PROMISE!

 

Soriko: And she MEANS it this time.

 

The next three chapters are officially dedicated to Ethe-kun for reviewing the fewest times, but having the longest reviews. XD There. Happy?

 

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Tayuya had gotten sick again that morning. She felt the bile rise in her throat, even before she was out of bed.

 

She untwisted her bare legs from the sheets, and tripped onto the floor, tugging the tee shirt she had slept in away from her throat. Then she stumbled into the pristine bathroom, one hand pressed firmly against her mouth, pushed up the toilet seat, and, for lack of a better term, threw her guts up. Bracing one hand against the side of the bowl, she let her stomach push up its entire contents for almost five minutes. Her body was wracked with spasms, and the burning liquid rushed from her mouth and splashed into the water. Then, almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped, leaving her chest aching and her throat on fire.

 

She flushed the toilet, and ran one had through her hair with a sigh. It was at that moment that she realized there was someone standing at the bathroom door.

 

“Mama!” she said with shock, falling to her knees from her crouched position. Christine Torsten was leaning against the doorframe, her graying red hair falling loose, past her shoulders, and her light blue eyes narrowed. There was a cigarette clamped firmly between her lips, and a thin trail of smoke was rising from its tip like a silver snake.

 

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her tee shirt. “This is the third time this week.”

 

“I… well, uh,” Tayuya stammered, struggling for an answer. Her mother closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. They were like ice.

 

“Have you been drinking again?”

 

“No, Mama. Of course not.”

 

The older woman was silent for a moment. Then, “You know what I think? I think you got yourself knocked up,” she hissed. “I think that's why you've been getting so sick. Is that it, you little slut?”

 

Tayuya turned to stare at the toilet.

 

“Please don't call me that, Mama,” she said quietly, closing her burning eyes.

 

“Why shouldn't I? It's what you are, isn't it? ISN'T IT?” she demanded. Tayuya felt her eyes fill.

 

“Mama, please. I need you to help me!” she said, her voice cracking. Then she gagged, and was sick again. She held her hair back with one hand, and waited for the convulsions to subside.

 

“You want me to HELP YOU?” Christine's voice was high and mocking. “Like I helped your bastard father until he finally left this house?”

 

“Mama, please, PLEASE don't say that!”

 

“Well you know what, missy? If you need my help so badly then you can just leave, too. You got yourself into this, now you can get yourself out.”

 

Tayuya started to sob softly, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Mama, please!” she begged, her red hair falling into her face.

 

“Be quiet. I don't want to hear it.”

 

Christine left the bathroom, the trail of smoke lingering. Tayuya got to her feet, and pushed open the small window at the other side of the bathroom. She stuck her head out, and breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, a trick Ten-Ten had said she learned in that week-long anger management class they had offered at the high school the year before. It worked, and after a minute or so, the cold air and the deep breaths had calmed her down immensely.

 

Then, leaving the window open, she left the bathroom, and went into her bedroom, changing into faded jeans and a yellow and black shirt. Then she crammed her beanie over her messy hair, hefted her bag onto one shoulder and left the house without eating anything.

 

Now here she was, knee deep in an English test she had forgotten to study for, pencil shaking, and eyes blurring. She sniffed, and forced her system to calm down, rubbing her eyes.

 

She realized she had read the same question four times without taking in any of it, so she skipped to the next one.

 

To her left sat Haku, wearing a black button-down short sleeved shirt and jeans, a lot darker than his normal bright, happy, gay man style clothing. His hair was flipped up into a ponytail, and his eyes were red. He wasn't smiling.

 

She frowned.

 

`Maybe I'm not the only one having a bad day,' she thought miserably, before attempting to finish the test.

 

`Name forty prepositions.'

 

Oh shit.

 

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“One, two, one, two, three, four!” Kankuro counted, clapping his hands together smartly, before raising them into the air, and conducting the pep band's rendition of `Love Shack', by the B-52s. As he the only junior drum majors, this was his job.

 

Ten-Ten stood in the back with the rest of the trumpets, her stand up as far as it could go, waiting for her cue to come. She yawned as the snare drums belted out their solo, then waited for the bass player to strum his opening notes, before blasting away.

 

Love shack!

 

Baby, love shack!

 

Rock Lee sat to her left, his trombone held up off of his shoulder, moving the slide of his instrument back and forth. Trombone, as he had announced some time ago, was the “most youthful of instruments!”

 

The song ended two minutes later, and Ten-Ten stood, rubbing her numbs lips. “God I hate Mondays,” she grumbled, before yawning again.

 

“Attention, attention!” Kankuro called from the front of the room, clapping his hands together again. “Hey, yo, people! Wake up! We've got work to do! Next song… `We Like to Party'!”

 

There was scattered cheering as flip folders and small sheets of music were shuffled and moved. Ten-Ten grinned. She DID like this song…

 

Kankuro snapped his fingers twice.

 

“One! Two! One, two, three, four!”

 

The saxophones, clarinets, flutes, and part of the brass section began playing the opening sequence, but the trumpets immediately started yelling, “We! Like! To party! We like! We like to party!”

 

There was no doubt in Ten-Ten's mind that band was her favorite class.

 

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“All right, ladies, listen up!” the coach, none other than Ibiki Morino, snapped, before blowing his whistle shrilly. His black trench coat and dark Marine Corp. outfit was greatly contrasted by the appearance of white Nikes on his feet.

 

Sasuke sniffed, and rubbed his eyes. His head felt like it was made of lead, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and die.

 

Itachi was there, chatting with Kisame, who looked less than pleased to be in the gym at the moment. Shisui was also there, speaking in low tones with Zaku. Neji Hyuga was also there, yawning. Kiba Inuzuka, and, to Sasuke's displeasure, Naruto Uzumaki, were also there, both looking quite excited. Slowly, everyone gathered around the two coaches, Morino, and Asuma.

 

“Now, listen up! I'm only going to say this once!” Ibiki bellowed, spraying the people closest to him with saliva. “If you don't know me, I am Ibiki Morino, the varsity team coach, but you shall call me `Sir'! This is Asuma Sarutobi, coach of junior varsity, and shall be referred to in the same manor as myself!” Mr. Asuma also seemed less than pleased to be listening to Morino wail. He rolled his eyes, and wished he had a cigarette. Ibiki went on. “Today's tryouts will determine if you make the varsity or junior varsity teams! Everyone else shall be cut!”

 

Wow. That was a lot harsher than Sasuke had originally thought. He bit his lip, suddenly nervous. There were a lot of people there. He would have to make varsity, he decided. He HAD to. Itachi had been starting on the varsity team when he was a freshman… and if Sasuke wasn't at least ON the team, then it would be useless. There was no way Dad would give a damn if he were on JV.

 

“If you're a first year player, then don't get your hopes up!” Ibiki continued. “And if you're a freshman, then don't even THINK that you'll make varsity! Except, of course, Mr. Sasuke Uchiha.”

 

Sasuke rolled his eyes.

 

“If you display even HALF of the skills your brother showed, then let me be the first to say welcome to the varsity!”

 

The younger Uchiha gulped down his swelling rage, and breathed in deeply. He saw Itachi out of the corner of his eye. The older Uchiha gave him a thumbs up and a weak smile. Sasuke didn't return either.

 

“Now divide up into pairs, and warm up! Start with passing. And remember, I am watching you!”

 

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“Well, that wasn't so bad,” Itachi said, pulling on his Vans, and brushing his hair out of his eyes. His ankle was sore, but as soon as he got a new brace for it, he was sure it would be fine.

 

Everyone in the locker room groaned.

 

It was almost six thirty. The boys had been playing since school got out at three. First passing. Then running lines. Then running MORE lines for not running the first set of lines quickly enough. Then lay-ups. Then more lines. Then dribbling. Then more lines. Then even more lines because Naruto had mouthed off about how many lines they were running. Then shooting free throws. Then more lines. Then scrimmaging. Then more lines to end the practice.

 

Sasuke felt like he was going to die. He was laying on the bench, now back in his street clothes, his head throbbing, and his throat burning. He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath.

 

“All right, ladies! Listen up!” Ibiki came into the locker room, his hands behind his back. “Your name will be posted on the message board in the commons if you made the team or not! We will announce the varsity and JV teams at the end of the week! Until then, there will be practice every day, from three to six! If you don't come, you won't play! Is that understood?”

 

Everyone responded with, “Yes, sir.”

 

After Ibiki left, the complaining began.

 

“You mean even if we made it through the day, we might not make the team? Shit!”

 

“Oh my God… three hours… every day…”

 

“So… many… LINES!”

 

“Calm down, Naruto.”

 

“Yeah, calm down, Naruto.”

 

Sasuke sighed, and sat up, grabbing his backpack.

 

“I need a ride, Itachi,” he grumbled. Itachi nodded.

 

“Sure, sure. Let's go. Kisame, you gonna make it home all right?”

 

Kisame was currently sitting on the floor, clutching his knee. “I'm peachy keen, Uchiha. No worries here.” He rolled his eyes.

 

Itachi smirked, then shrugged. “Your funeral,” he said placidly. “Come on, Sasuke.”

 

“Whatever,” Sasuke said, trailing after his older brother as he exited the locker room.

 

“Ah, Uchiha.” It was Morino, who was talking with one of the parents who had showed up to drag their kids home. “Very good today. You still plan on starting for us?” he said, placing a hand on Itachi's shoulder. The junior grinned.

 

“Of course, Sir,” he said. “Oh… have you met my brother, Sasuke?”

 

“Yes, of course, the younger one. Very nice,” he said gruffly, his eyes resting on the freshman, before darting back up to Itachi. “Now, Itachi. I'm going to need you to still be able to take tips, even though you'll be playing the point guard position. And keep your buddies in line, eh? That Shisui could run his mouth right until Judgement Day.”

 

“Of course, Sir.”

 

Sasuke tuned out the rest of the conversation. He felt betrayed. He crossed his arms, and shut his eyes, as his vision was beginning to blur, thanks to his exhaustion. Itachi blathered on with Morino for another five minutes, before Itachi said, “Oh, I'm sorry, Sir, but Sasuke and I have to go. Father is expecting us to meet he and Mother for dinner.”

 

“Ah, yes, Heisuke. A good man,” Ibiki said, nodding. “Well, keep up the good work, Itachi. You too… ah… Yusuke.” He nodded to Sasuke, before turning, and walking, straight backed, to Asuma, who was talking to a parent.

 

Itachi sighed, and shook his head. “Let's go,” he said. “Quick. Before someone else tries to talk to me.” Then he walked swiftly out the open side doors of the gym, without waiting for Sasuke to respond. Sasuke walked slowly after him, still searing from Ibiki's new name for him. `Yusuke'. Lovely.

 

Once they were in the car, Sasuke felt as though he HAD to say something.

 

“You know Dad isn't meeting us for dinner, right?”

 

Itachi grinned guiltily as he started the car.

 

“Shh…” he said, pressing one finger to his lips. “Not so loud.”

 

Sasuke could help but give a tiny grin. After a moment of silence, he felt uncharacteristically as though he needed to say something else.

 

“That bastard called me `Yusuke',” he said, crossing his arms. Itachi snorted.

 

“Oh, but it's such a nice name, Yusuke. You know you liked it,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. Sasuke laughed, despite his throbbing headache.

 

“It's better than `Itachi'.”

 

“Oh, oh, that was LOW.”

 

“Whatcha gonna do about it?”

 

“I think I'll drive this car right over that cliff!” Itachi said, pointing over at his `cliff', which happened to be the Yamanaka Flower Shop.

 

“Do it!” Sasuke egged, grinning widely. “I dare you!”

 

“I think I will!”

 

“Okay!”

 

“Fine!”

 

Itachi laughed then, and Sasuke, much to his own surprise, joined him. But his laughter turned into coughing.

 

Itachi was quiet after that. But when they pulled into the driveway of their house, he spoke again.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, his eyes dull. Sasuke blinked.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I'm sorry,” Itachi said again.

 

Sasuke didn't really want to ask, but he knew he had to. “For what?”

 

“That no one remembers your name… and everyone remembers mine,” Itachi said flatly, looking over to his younger brother. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, everything in the world made sense to both of them, and they were perfect brothers, and they never fought, and Itachi didn't have nightmares, and Sasuke didn't care that he wasn't noticed.

 

But then the moment was over, and Sasuke was back to his contempt, and Itachi was back to his denial.

 

“That's… okay,” Sasuke said, looking pointedly down at the dashboard.

 

“No. It's not.”

 

“Yeah, you're right.” Sasuke glanced over to Itachi. “It's not.”

 

Then he left the car, and Itachi followed him.

 

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“I can see it.”

 

Deidara stared blankly at the lump of clay on the pottery wheel, and sighed. He wasn't going to get any creativity today.

 

(what happened mrs kanno what in the world happened)

 

(oh my god he fell doctor he tripped and fell into the corner of the counter hes so clumsy but i never thought oh god i never thought this would happen)

 

Yeah. That's right. I fell. I fell into the counter. Just tripped on air and fell.

 

(no no but she pushed me she did she fucking pushed me)

 

No she didn't, I fell. I'm clumsy. It was my own fault.

 

(i'm so sorry but there is no way we can save your sons eye)

 

(tripped and fell)

 

(save your sons eye)

 

Deidara Hagen-Kanno began to cry.

 

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There was a dark purplish-black bruise on Deidara's cheekbone by the time school was out. It looked like a crow's wing. Sasori recognized the placement of the bruise quite well, and knew immediately where it was from, but wasn't totally sure what to say.

 

(what on earth happened to your face Sasori)

 

“Hey, Deidara,” Sasori said, as they stood in the elevator. It was three-thirty. Deidara was humming gently to himself, and staring at his feet.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What happened to your face?” he asked, pointing at the bruise. Deidara unconsciously reached up, and ran his fingers over the tender skin.

 

(oh nothing I just ran into a wall)

 

“Oh, nothing,” he said, with a small smile. “I was just late this morning and I was in such a hurry that I ran into a wall, yeah.”

 

Sasori sighed, and nodded. “Oh. Does it… hurt?”

 

“A little,” Deidara said, and Sasori could tell it was a lie.

 

“Hm.”

 

Deidara went back to staring at his, but his smile was gone, and in its place was a frown. The blonde kept running his fingers self-consciously over the bruise.

 

(a wall that's all right it was a wall it wasn't grampa it was a wall and a door and a book not a fist or a hand a wall)

 

Sasori felt something familiar well up inside of him. It was that emotion he used to feel, that sick, irritating little emotion that always showed up at the worst possible time.

 

It was sadness.

 

Before he even realized what he was doing, Sasori reached over, and wrapped one arm around Deidara's shoulders.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said gently. Deidara glanced up in surprise, but didn't pull away.

 

“No… it's okay,” he said, as they stepped off the elevator, and slowly walked down the hall. “It doesn't hurt as much as it did then, yeah. Not anymore.”

 

They came to the end of the hall, where the opposite doors of their apartments stood.

 

“Well… I'd better go in, yeah,” Deidara said, sounding only slightly disappointed.

 

“Mm.” Sasori moved his arm, and turned so that he was half facing the blonde. “I'll see you later.”

 

“Yeah,” Deidara said. He hesitated, then said, “Ah… Sasori?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Deidara sighed. “I… never mind, yeah,” he said, shaking his head. Sasori nodded.

 

“It's okay. It's… okay,” he said, before quickly putting his arms around Deidara's smaller body, and pulling him close. Deidara gripped the back of Sasori's shirt, and felt the sobs coming, but desperately tried to hold them back. He didn't want to cry. Not in front of Sasori who was so strong and tough and silent and never ever cried.

 

Sasori felt Deidara's sudden, dry sobs, and held him tighter. “It's okay… Deidara, it's okay.”

 

Deidara shook his head, and squeezed his eyes shut until they hurt.

 

“No it's not,” he said, his voice high and shaky. “It'll never be okay, yeah.” Then he pushed Sasori away, and brought his hands to his face. “I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry,” he said, before turning, and disappearing into his apartment.

 

Sasori stood, surprised by the recent turn of events. Then he took in what had happened, and punched the wall in his blind fury. “God damn,” he grumbled, before kicking open Yashamaru's door, and storming inside.

 

Yashamaru was sitting at the counter, his hands around a glass of water. He looked up when Sasori came in.

 

“Oh, Sasori,” he said, his voice raspy from coughing. “How was school?”

 

“Shitty,” Sasori snapped, dropping his bag on the ground inside his bedroom, before coming back out and walking into the kitchen.

 

“Is that language really necessary?” Yashamaru asked, pulling his bathrobe up tighter around his shoulders. Sasori glared at him.

 

“Yes.”

 

Yashamaru rolled his eyes, and took another sip of his water. “Fine, fine, throw a fit like a two-year-old.”

 

Sasori angrily pulled open one of the cabinets. He stared blankly at the empty cupboard, before opening another one. Then he opened the refrigerator.

 

“Where the hell is all the food?” he snapped, slamming the door shut. Yashamaru's gasp of surprise turned into a coughing fit.

 

“O-Oh n-no!” he coughed. “I cuh-completely f-forgot to g-get groceries! Sasori, I'm s-so sorry!”

 

“Yeah?” Sasori said. “Well that's just perfect! No food. Yeah. Great. Of ALL the things you could have forgotten, you had to forget food.”

 

Yashamaru winced. “I'm sorry, Sasori. I even had to miss work today because of this flu.”

 

“Oh, I don't give a flying fuck about the stupid flu,” Sasori snapped, before storming into his bedroom, and slamming the door.

 

Yashamaru dropped his head into his hands, and felt a wave of guilt assault his weak system.

 

`Oh, how could I forget to get groceries?' he mentally screamed. `That was smooth, Yashamaru, really smooth. If you ever have kids of your OWN, is that how you'll treat them? No food? Lovely. Positively LOVELY. What would Iruka say if he could see you now?'

 

Yashamaru tried not to think about that as he picked up the phone.

 

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An hour and four cigarettes later, Sasori was still fuming. He had opened the window to rid the room of the stench of tobacco, and had started his homework, but couldn't focus. He was starting to feel worried for Deidara, and guilty about yelling at Yashamaru.

 

`He was sick. There was no way he could have gotten groceries, anyway,' he chided himself, lighting up another cigarette, and tapping the ashes out the window. `Fuck. Motherfucker.'

 

Sasori did not like feeling guilty.

 

He had finished off his cigarette and half of his pre-calculus homework when the doorbell rang. He waited for Yashamaru to get it, but then it rang again.

 

“Fuck,” he growled, getting off of the bed, and throwing open his door. He stepped heavily over to the front door and pulled it open. “What?” he demanded in an irate tone, his eyes hard. There was a man in a black smock standing in the door. His hair was hanging in his eyes, and he had bad acne.

 

“Delivery for Mr. Kaze,” he said. His arms were full with two big, brown paper bags. Sasori frowned.

 

“I'll take them,” he said. The man set the bags down.

 

“Please sign here,” he said, holding out a clipboard and a pen. Sasori scrawled his name, his frown deepening. “Have a nice day,” the man said, before turning, and walking off down the hall. Sasori dragged the bags into the apartment, and began to rummage through them. Inside was milk, a box of cereal, a package of turkey meet, a few cups of yogurt, a box of fruit snacks, a carton of ice cream, a loaf of bread, a lot more things that looked like…

 

“Groceries,” Sasori said, before feeling a wave of guilt hit him so hard that he almost sat down. “…Damn.”

 

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Kat: AAAUUUGH! I'm tired! I'm falling asleep at the keyboard! There's no time left to add in Gaara! X-X

 

Gaara: You're a BAD PERSON.

 

Kat: -sobs- Nooooo!

 

Soriko: -rolls eyes-

 

Yashamaru: -has no clue what is happening- -smiling-

 

Kat: -cough- I liked this chapter. Some more Deidara and Tayuya angst for y'all. Hope it wasn't too bad. XD I liked it.

 

Naruto: Yuck.

 

Soriko: Horrible.

 

Yashamaru: I thought it was-

 

Naruto and Soriko: -glare-

 

Yashamaru: …Uh… icky?

 

Karene: … Can I take my clothes off now?

 

Kat: NO!

 

Naruto: YES!

 

Neji: -glare-

 

Naruto: Uh… I mean… n-no…?

 

Agh du leieber! Please review, everyone! It will make me a happy panda! -grin- ^^