Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Peace Within the Emptiness ❯ Peace Within the Emptiness ( Chapter 1 )

Warnings: hints of OroSasu and team 7ness, not a happy fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor do I own the Tool song Reflection whose lyrics I so creatively borrowed to use as a title.

 

Peace Within the Emptiness

 

 

 

Sasuke doesn't think about the next time he'll see his former teammates. In fact, he's done everything in his power to not think about them at all over the past two and a half years. And most of the time, he believes he's done a rather bang-up job of becoming the uncaring avenger he set out to be. Here he is, after all, living in the hidden village of Sound, using Orochimaru for jutsu just as unflinchingly as he allows the serpent-like nin to use his body. The fact that the idea no longer makes him nauseous is just a testament to his progress.

 

In the end, the only thing that truly matters is Itachi. Although he wouldn't be averse to offing Kabuto as well. Smug bastard really does rub him the wrong way every chance he gets. Hey, uncaring avengers are allowed to get pissed now and then.

 

So he trains with perfect single-mindedness, his eyes never wavering from the prize. Sasuke laughs when he thinks about it. Did this mean he is now enlightened? He feels that way sometimes. With the weight of his responsibilities gone and his attachments no longer dragging him down, all that remains is his will, his ultimate goal.

 

A calm settles over him, and he knows, really and truly knows in his bones and his soul that nothing will stand in his way. Itachi will be his, and afterward, he can fade into the darkness satisfied. Content. The resurrection of his clan was the goal of an ignorant child and one he has since shed just like the so many other layers of bullshit he'd been carrying around. One man cannot restore an entire clan.

 

So he keeps training, pushing his body beyond all natural limits, well past the point of exhaustion and sanity daily without complaint. To the point where he no longer notices the messages from his subconscious sent to him during the nocturnal hours.

 

He no longer sees the disapproval in Kakashi's eye. He no longer relives the feel of tears soaking through his shirt as Sakura clings to him and begs him not to leave. He no longer hears Naruto's attempts to get through to him, no longer feels the blood on his hand, the heart beating furiously next to it, or the scorching chakra surrounding it.

 

And most of all, he no longer remembers the things that only existed in dreams: the scents, the tastes, and the feelings of their bodies tangled together. The feel of Sakura's breasts in his hands, the taste of Naruto's skin, the feel of them surrounding him, in him, in them.

 

He never remembers any of it anymore. And when he wakes feeling as if his calm has shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, he scolds himself and blames the discomfort on his sticky sheets.

 

Sasuke doesn't think about his old team, his friends, the one who were able to get under his skin unlike any others. Something only has significance if you acknowledge it, after all.