A Shadow Darkly

XIII

Kakashi’s brain pounded against his skull, crying out against such rough treatment. He’d gone out to drink – to pretend to drink, anyway – and learn what he could. Then he remembered the room spinning and a pretty girl helping him home. Only it wasn’t home. Chakra threads criss-crossed his body, biting into his skin like piano wire and draining his strength. He was already weakened from the Sharingan, the thing having been in use since his capture. It was that orb they wanted, and they didn’t care if it killed him. But Kakashi wasn’t worried about himself – surprisingly (even to himself) he found that most of his worry was for Sasuke.

If these bastards found out Sasuke was the only surviving Uchiha, then Kakashi essentially would be fodder.

So he prayed Sasuke still had enough of a brain left to run.

Kakashi heard them before he saw them, lights suddenly blinding him. He sensed five, all male. If he were at full strength they wouldn’t be a problem. At this rate, he’d be able to take out one. Maybe.

“Hatake Kakashi,” crooned the one designated ‘leader’, “it’s such a pleasure to have you.”

“Pleasure’s mine.” Kakashi bit out.

“I’m sure. Now, I don’t think I need to explain what’s going to happen?”

“I’ve got a damn good idea.”

“Good.”

Silence fell as the five men began to move, two adjusting the table Kakashi was laying on, the rest pulling out assorted tools and tubs. The smell of formaldehyde and disinfectant burned Kakashi’s nose but he ignored it, falling into himself and gathering his strength. There was a way to beat chakra wire – Iruka had shown him how. One quick burst of chakra and the wire, already filled with chakra from earlier, would burn anyway. It would end in a brilliant explosion, so Kakashi had to time it right.

He felt metal close to his skin and decided to unleash the chakra blast.

Something dark sung back to him on the backlash, something wanting, needing, him to stay alive.

Kakashi fell from the table and scrambled, blind, for anything defensible. Hands caught him and, had he not been so weak, he would have been able to break free. Instead punches landed, winding him until all he could see was black spots when his vision returned. He tasted blood and found himself held fast in a headlock as shackles closed around his wrists.

It was a miracle his arms weren’t jerked out of their sockets with the force he was jerked up with, but the pain was enough to clear his vision.

So he’d been able to inflict some damage after all, seeing burned flesh on faces and limbs.

“We were going to put you under for this,” the smoldering leader said, “but I think you’ve earned the right to be conscious.”

“Lucky me,” Kakashi spat out.

The men only laughed as some pulled on gloves, others finding salve for the chakra burns. They’d never heal, Kakashi thought with menacing glee. Never.

The scalpel was set against his skin as a warning as adjustments were made, Kakashi’s body pulled taut to prevent any unwanted movements. Satisfied, the leader turned to the silver haired shinobi and grinned.

“I really didn’t think you were stupid enough to come alone.”

Something cold swept into the room. Kakashi’s skin crawled at the feel of it, but the men didn’t seem to notice. The leader continued to speak. Kakashi tuned him out, trying to find the source of that chilling cold.

“And now with your Sharingan in our possession, we’ll take over this little village.”

The scalpel pressed into the flesh of Kakashi’s forehead, following the scar there. The scalpel shattered, a senbon lodging in the forehead of the man on Kakashi’s left. He dropped like a rock, blood beginning to bubble from the wound. Kakashi swung suddenly, instinct alone keeping him from getting dizzy. Another man went flying, crashing into a table and toppling it over. He didn’t get up. The remaining three backed away, all the staring at the black shape that slowly unfolded itself before them. Kakashi’s chains fell away and by stubbornness alone he held himself upright, though the hand curled in his shirt helped him keep balanced.

“If you want the Sharingan,” Sasuke said softly, “all you had to do was ask.”

Kakashi hissed, staring at the young man before him. “Get out of here!”

Sasuke merely looked at him. Had Kakashi thought he’d been capable of it, he would have blanched.

“Who are you?” asked one of Kakashi’s captors.

“Uchiha Sasuke.”

There was no warning – one man suddenly lunged, his knife leading for Kakashi’s throat. Sasuke moved. The knife was deflected and the man began to scream, his fingers bent at odd angles. The jounin scented blood, and his eye went wide at how close Sasuke actually was to him. A deep red line cut across Sasuke’s face, the right side beneath his eye covered in blood. Sasuke acted as if he didn’t even feel the pain.

What had he done?

The question was what froze Kakashi to his place. He had thought breaking Sasuke had been a good thing, something to be proud of. But that knife had been aimed for him, and Sasuke had use his -face- as a shield.

For Kakashi.

-What had he done?-

There was a commotion outside the room; more men came to the rescue their comrades. Kakashi reached for Sasuke’s collar. The room lost sound. Men who found their way in froze, instinct screaming that there was something dangerous in the room. The burst of pure energy that came from Sasuke knocked all off their feet. Only Sasuke remained standing, hands pressed to his ears as if it would stop the pain. Dazed, Kakashi fancied that he saw blood dribbling from between the nukenin’s fingers.

The leader was the first to recover from the backlash, wobbling on his feet as his minions regained consciousness. He scraped his fingers along the floor, finding a weapon, but Kakashi knew nothing could save them now. Even as the men rushed Sasuke, those Sharingan eyes opened.

Amaterasu consumed everything.