The Slave of Sound

The Slave of Sound
Chapter 18

As soon as Sasuke left his bedchambers and his blonde, who was his no more, he went straight to the great hall, and sent slaves to find and summon the emissaries together, and then bring them to this place. As he waited, he stared around at the opulent space, filled with marble columns that exquisitely complemented the inlaid floors, the fine and lush tapestries, and delicate works of precious art. But he saw none of it. Instead, he saw it as perhaps Naruto always had; a beautiful prison, a gilded cage of diamond sharp edges that wounded instead of pleased.

Then he took out ink and parchment, and began to write furiously. When he was done, he called in his captain, his second, and his third to sign as his witnesses. The men in question were uneasy, as Sasuke did not permit them to read the document, merely witness his signature.

It took almost four hours to find, assemble, and bring everyone to the great hall, but not once did the Uchiha evince any irritation or anger. He simply waited, silently, and servants and slaves came and went about their duties with increasing nervousness.

But just as the sun was committing itself to setting, filling the hall with tones of dewy rose, vibrant gold, cooling creams, and hints of violet, the Konohans and Sunans were courteously escorted into the dining hall, where slaves hesitatingly lit the fancy lamps, or anxiously milled about, wondering if they should serve the rich and varied dishes that had been prepared for the evening meal. But their lord had waved them away each and every time one of them had tried to approach him with any questions.

One of his guards approached and bowed low. “Forgive this inexcusable delay, my Lord,” the woman began, a hint of irritation in her voice. Less than twenty minutes ago the last two delegates, Gaara and his wife, had finally been tracked down in a bathhouse that had been checked not five minutes before, looking damp and refreshed, yet the dainty Hinata seemed strangely weary and oddly haunted.

Sasuke merely waved the guard away, his eyes settled unerringly upon those that had once been his fellow countrymen. They all stared back at him with various expressions of dislike and impatience. Sakura watched him with barely concealed scorn, and Konohamaru glared at him with outright hatred.

Finally, Neji stepped forward and gave him the briefest, and barely civilest of bows. “We have come, Uchiha-sama,” he said curtly, the honorific like ashes on his tongue. “Though it was hardly necessary to send guards to fetch us to the evening meal.”

The Uchiha disdained to sit, nor did he invite the others to do so. He gave a quick nod of his own in response before he spoke. “You may partake, if you so desire. Once I impart my news to you, I will send for food and drink.”

The delegates eyed him with wary anticipation.

“I have decided to accede to all of Konoha’s demands. I will sign any and all treaties and contracts that cause my nation no harm. I promised a golden age when Konoha and Suna represented themselves in you, their emissaries. And so it shall be. Before the sun rises tomorrow, the contracts shall be settled upon and signed. Then you will all be free to return to your homes with everything you came for.”

Sasuke let his eyes linger on Sakura for a moment, a faint but wry smile on his face. “Yes. With all you came for, so you shall return.”

For a moment, Sakura couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could it be… could he really mean it? She took an eager step forward. “And Naruto? What about him?”

Sasuke looked away for a moment, eyes haunted. “Isn’t that what you really came for, Sakura?” For the first time ever, he felt the desire to tack the chan onto her name, but knew that not only would it not be received well, he did not have the right anymore. “I know that Konoha ostentatiously came to finalize a peace treaty and ratify contracts, but we all know the real reason you are here.”

He looked back, his dark eyes traveling wistfully over his ex comrades. “You came to take the Light of Konoha home. And so you shall.”

“Really?” Sakura breathed, face lighting up with such joy that she was radiantly beautiful, not just the loveliness she normally possessed.

“Where is he?” Konohamaru demanded belligerently at the same time. Kakashi laid an overly firm hand upon the youth’s shoulder, and the boy eased back slightly, lowering his fierce eyes.

Sasuke held up his hand for a moment, as his eyes caught those of his servants and guards, silently telling them to leave. They did, albeit quite reluctantly on the latter’s behalf. As soon as the room was empty of all save himself and the delegates, he lowered that commanding hand.

“Naruto will arrive in due time. But first, I have a few things to say.”

“Naturally,” Konohamaru seethed resentfully, then quieted when that firm hand became painful.

“I ask that you be… as good to him as you can. Make sure that Konoha takes care of him. He’s not… as he was…” And Sasuke looked away, shame and remorse evident in every line of his body.

“Before you become self righteous, as I assure you, you have every right to be, let me tell you this…” Sasuke stopped any and all resentful remarks to his words with just a glance.

The Uchiha paused to take a deep steadying breath. “I was wrong. I was wrong to steal him, wrong to abuse him as I have, and wrong to have kept him from those that love him for as long as I have. I was wrong. And I will atone. I ask for no pardon, no forgiveness. I do not excuse my actions. I was wrong. Heinously so. In my arrogance and pride, I have committed inexcusable sins. All I ask of you now, is that you take Naruto home, and love him as he has deserved all along. Do not let the villagers follow my poor example. Do not let them punish him anymore for things he could not help, or did not do. Do not let them treat him like I have… please.”

His eyes sought and held Sakura’s again, ignoring everyone else. “Heal him… please.”

“We will,” Sakura replied strongly, no hesitation or doubt in her voice. “I assure you, we will.” Though she was shocked to her core to hear these words from the mouth of he who had begun as her greatest love, and ended as her deadliest enemy; and mildly gratified that the Uchiha at least admitted to his transgressions a little, she was not at all assuaged of her anger and rage and resentment of all that Sasuke had said and done to the finest man she had ever, or would ever know.

“You will, of course,” Neji interjected here in an arctic voice, “have removed that damnable collar before anything is signed.”

“No, that will not be possible,” Sasuke said, pain in his voice.

There was a rumbling growl throughout all assembled.

“No?” Sakura cried, all her fury rushing to the fore. “No? Why the hell not?”

This time it was Sakura whose shoulder got the excessively firm grip, but she, unlike Konohamaru, did not back down. Her leather gloves creaked she was fisting them so hard.

“Indeed,” Neji asked, his voice even colder, if that were possible. “Might we know why not?”

“That collar is the only thing keeping Kyuubi, the Ninetailed demon at bay.” Sasuke replied softly, eyes filled with self-loathing for what he was still condemning the one he loved to. “What do you think will happen when that collar is removed, and all that hatred and rage, bottled up inside Naruto for seven years, will do?”

Sasuke lowered his head, hating himself for the ramifications of his actions so long ago, still rippling through the pond of Naruto’s life with such deadly rings, like a endless stream of stones dropped into the pure and loving water that was Naruto.

“What do you think the demon would do, to anyone who happened to be near by? What do you think his rage would do to the land he once sought to destroy? And what do you think his sudden release would do to Naruto himself? The rage and fury the beast must feel would most certainly weaken, if not outright destroy the seal that binds him inside Naruto. What do you think will happen, if you take the collar off?” Sasuke spread his hands in mute appeal. “Again, I cannot and do not ask for forgiveness. I can only tell you this. For this, and everything, I am more sorry than any of you can possibly know.”

What little equanimity Sakura had gained from knowing they would take Naruto home was utterly and completely destroyed. She shrugged off Kakashi’s vice like hand as if it were nothing.

“You’re sorry?” She shouted, infuriated by the inadequacy of the Uchiha’s words. “You’re sorry? You abandon all of us, abandon Konoha, abandon Naruto! You tried to kill him time and again, then you steal him away, and spend years doing terrible things to him! You take the boy we all loved so much, and turn him into a broken shell of a man, and ask us to heal him! And on top of that, you brand him with a collar of slavery and degradation that he will have to wear to the end of his days, and you say you’re sorry? You unmitigated Bastard!”

She was screaming towards the end, so enraged that spittle flew from her lips, and she felt the wild desire to tear, to rend, to smash into oblivion the raven haired monster before her. And for a moment, she almost did just that. Then she gave a scream of denial, and slammed her gloved fist into the inlaid floor of marble and wood to keep from killing the loathsome Otokage, and bringing war down upon the heads of all the nations.

So great was her fury that the floor ruptured, throwing everyone save herself around like dolls, shattering all the glorious windows in the hall, reducing the nearest great tables to mere splinters, and sending a spider web of cracks throughout the outward facing walls.

The glassless and now gaping windows let in the cool and tranquil dusk, and even as everyone coughed and choked on the ensuing dust, warriors poured in through the shattered doors, to defend their lord and master. But again, Sasuke picked himself up and waved them away, with stern admonitions that the delegates were not to be touched, that no harm had been done, leave us be. He didn’t even bother to dust himself off.

Once again, they were alone, though the servants and slaves and soldiers milled about in confusion and distress. And through their ranks threaded a small and lonely figure, speckles of dust in his sunshine bright hair.