Eden

Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine. No one in their right mind would want it to be.

Rating: NC-17 (for sexual abuse and violence)

Summary: From this point on Sasuke's future takes a different path. Fugaku and Mikoto refuse to let Sasuke become like Itachi.

Warnings: This contains incest of the Itachi/Sasuke variety.

Eden

By: Hana J.

Part 2:

Sasuke graduates from the Academy at the age of ten. His Father attends the ceremony without urging from Itachi. Finally, Sasuke thinks, his Father is looking at him, reminiscent to the time his hands were caked with ash and burned in the aftermath of Goukakyuu no Jutsu.

Piling pillows under his blankets, mocking the lay of a human body, Sasuke shuts his bedroom door with practiced ease. He slinks past his Father and Mother’s room, shadows embracing him in a familiar hug.

Mother’s voice, a raised whisper, wafts beneath the door like a fog that slowly rises.

Not suggesting…ninja…child…obtain…

Father’s voice follows, a low hum like static.

My son…Hokage will not…Uchiha…sway…

His parent’s voices are not loud enough for him to make out. But his Father’s tone is exasperated and slowly being widdled down, stifled by the fog.

Sasuke knows that his Father is the head of the household – Head of the Clan - but at night, in the stillness of their house when doors are shut it is his Mother’s voice that guides his Father’s actions. This is how Sasuke knows that women hold power. He sees the girls in his class and the word weak never passes through his thoughts. He imagines that if he could see through his parent’s sliding door, his Mother’s pale skin and sleek, dark hair would be a terrible beauty to behold.

Itachi’s door is never locked. It opens silently and closes with a faint, unheard click. Facing him, Itachi pulls back the covers expectantly and Sasuke jumps into bed, the mattress squeaking beneath his weight. Itachi puts a hand on his arm to steady him and Sasuke quails beneath his brother’s irritated look.

“Are Father and Mother up?” Itachi asks, though Sasuke knows that Itachi already holds the answer.

“Yes,” he says, sullen at the quiet reprimand. “Sorry.”

Itachi sighs and Sasuke can feel his breath heat the side of his face. He squirms, trying to get comfortable as Itachi pulls him closer.

“Sleep,” Itachi says, smoothing down his unruly hair.

Surprised at the unexpected command, Sasuke blinks owlishly at his brother before burrowing beneath the sheets and squishing up closer against Itachi’s chest.

“You don’t…?”

“No,” Itachi answers even though Sasuke didn’t get to finish his sentence. Itachi is his brother and knows what he means even if he doesn’t say it. Sasuke never needs to speak in words.

“You’re going to be a genin tomorrow,” Itachi explains eventually, when the silence between them stretches. “Congratulations,” he says and Sasuke nods sleepily, succumbing to Itachi’s earlier command.

Sasuke wakes up early, accustomed to leaving Itachi’s room when the first light leaks through the shades and climbs across the floor. He can feel Itachi watching him, his neck hairs prickling, as he leaves the room. No words are ever spoken between them in the first light of dawn.

His sheets are cold and Sasuke musses his blankets, climbing into his own bed and shivering at the lack of warmth. Instead, he decides to stay up and climbs out of bed. He is too excited, wondering what his team will be like and who his teacher will be to want to try and sleep any longer. Mother is already up, no doubt washing last nights dishes, the sound of sloshing water accompanying her humming. In the morning, Sasuke’s Mother is the most beautiful person he knows.

Laughing, cheeks still rosy from his warm bath water; Sasuke walks into the kitchen, clapping his hands softly at his Mother’s impromptu performance. She laughs and ruffles his hair, and when she smiles Sasuke can see the wrinkles around her eyes.

“You should have been a singer, Mother,” he says, because he has always felt comfortable talking with her in this manner. Between them lay years of smiles and conversations that neither Father nor brother ever took part in.

“Hmm…I think I should stick to raising you,” she says, touching her fingertips to his forehead.

Sasuke shakes his head, droplets of water scattering across his shoulder blades.

“Tch,” his Mother says softly, shaking her head, her eyes filled with mirth and something else Sasuke can’t identify. “You’re like a sopping wet puppy. What did I tell you about drying your hair?”

Stubbing his toe against the ground Sasuke attempts to look chastised. “That I should?” he asks, his smile belaying his intents.

Mikoto closes her eyes, tsking, and hands Sasuke a dishrag. “Since you’re up you can help me clean the dishes.”

Sasuke knows not to protest. He doesn’t mind doing chores in the morning with his Mother. It is something that Itachi and his Father never do. It is something that is just between them.

Scrubbing at a bowl where the grains of rice seem melded to the plaster, Sasuke almost breaks the dish when his Mother interrupts the quiet with a voice that is as fragile as the bowl he is holding.

“Sasuke? Your brother—“

Looking up, Sasuke waits for his Mother to continue, his hands stilling on the dish and foam bubbles dripping down his wrist.

“Mother?”

Sasuke almost breaks the same dish twice. Itachi is standing in the doorway watching them and for a breathless moment Sasuke sees red. Sharingan red. He blinks and Itachi’s eyes are the dark colorless black that pervades all Uchiha.

Mikoto turns toward Itachi, a question on her lips, and Sasuke watches as her mouth forms words that never leave her tongue. “Yes, Itachi?”

Itachi stands very still and very silent. Finally, he speaks. “Do you need any help?”

Sasuke frowns. He doesn’t want Itachi helping because Itachi is good at everything and undoubtedly, if Itachi helped he would be better at washing dishes, too.

“We don’t need your help,” Sasuke says with a pout, interrupting his Mother’s attempt at speech. Sasuke opens his mouth to speak more but stops when Itachi shifts ever-so-slightly and looks at him.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says.

He says nothing more, the sentence ending in an awkward silence that Sasuke is sure even his Mother can feel.

“Why don’t you sit down, Itachi? I’ll make you some hot tea,” Mikoto interrupts gracefully, gesturing toward the table.

Itachi sits, folding his legs beneath him and watches as Sasuke washes the dishes. Sasuke can feel his stare like a hot brand on his neck.

“You have a mission today,” Mikoto says, though it is more of a question than a statement. The ANBU, Sasuke thinks, would not deign to tell others of their missions, not even an Uchiha, without prior consent from the Hokage. He had once heard his Father complain of this; though somehow Father always knows of the missions Itachi is assigned without Itachi telling him.

“I do,” Itachi answers, blowing on his cup of tea.

Sasuke thinks that even with a cup of tea cradled in his palms Itachi looks dangerous. Sasuke wonders if their Mother thinks that too, because her hands are steady when she lifts a clean plate from the sink to dry and he feels like she is forcing herself into a calmness that is unnatural. Sasuke doesn’t know why but as he moves to sit across from Itachi he thinks: this is the enemy.

Itachi will never be Sasuke’s enemy.

“How long will you be gone?” Mikoto asks, continuing the conversation.

“It is still undecided,” Itachi replies, taking a sip of tea after the last word and setting his cup down with a soft chink. “Probably three days, at the least.”

Itachi always adds ‘at the least’ to the end of his estimations because he is one of the best people in ANBU and Sasuke knows that ‘at the least’ means ‘whenever I accomplish my mission’. Itachi never counts his other teammates into his estimates. Sasuke imagines that if he was Itachi’s teammate he would feel overshadowed and would never have to do any of the work. Itachi only has to look at an enemy to kill them. The Sharingan has quite the advantage.

Sasuke hopes to get his Sharingan soon. Itachi got his when he was eight. Sasuke is now ten and still lacking the Uchiha eyes.

Mother hands him a cup of tea and Sasuke drinks it greedily, the steam rising to tickle his nose. He frowns as his Mother reprimands him, but he doesn’t want to sit around the table drinking tea and eating croissants filled with a buttery cheese and topped with almonds. He wants to leave. Eyeing the clock above the cabinets Sasuke forces his fingers to stop tapping against the table.

“Sasuke, there is no rush,” his Mother soothes.

Sasuke ignores her. He looks instead to Itachi.

“Brother, what’s it like?”

“What is what like, Sasuke?” Itachi asks, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he deliberately avoids the question.

Sasuke scowls, almost knocking his cup of tea over as he makes a rude gesture with his hands, one he learned the other day from one of the other kids in his class. His Mother makes a horrified gasp and Itachi’s eyes looks amused but his mouth turns downward into a stern, disapproving look.

“Sasuke! Where did you learn that?” Mikoto admonishes, coming over to the table to lay out a croissant and a small dollop of jelly onto his saucer.

“In school,” he answers promptly.

Itachi chuckles under his breath, covering his mouth with the rim of his teacup.

“Well, don’t do it. Do you know what that means?” Mikoto asks, laying several pieces of apple and orange onto his plate.

“No,” he replies sheepishly. He knew it meant something not-nice though. He doesn’t say that, however.

“I don’t want to see you do that again, understand? You were basically telling Itachi to shut up in a very rude way. My sons do not speak in such a way, understand me, Sasuke?”

“Yes,” he replies dutifully, glancing down at his hands.

“Good,” Mikoto says, taking his silence for regret as she turns away to prepare Itachi’s plate.

Perking back up, Sasuke looks around curiously. “Where is Father?”

“He had a meeting at the Police Headquarters,” Mikoto distractedly replies, fishing out chopsticks from the basket next to the oven. “Here,” she says, handing him a pair chopsticks and a bento box. “Take that for your lunch today.”

“Thank you,” Sasuke says, accepting both. He fidgets in his seat, wishing Itachi would leave so he would have an excuse to get up.

Itachi stands. “Thank you for the meal, Mother.”

Sasuke stands too. “Thank you—“

Mikoto cuts him off. “You can’t leave yet, Sasuke. I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Itachi doesn’t move and Sasuke stands, rooted to the spot like the carrots in the garden.

“Itachi, you don’t want to be late for you mission,” Mikoto says, her hands drying the last of the dishes. She avoids Itachi’s eyes.

“Ah,” Itachi says slowly, gruffly, and he leaves as quietly as he came.

Mikoto turns to him. Sasuke feels unease rise through him like the smoke from incense.

“Sasuke,” she says finally, her voice low and smooth, “you won’t be joining your fellow teammates today.”

Sasuke sits back at the table, uncomprehending. “What do you mean? I passed the test! Today I become a genin! Teacher said so.”

“I know,” Mikoto placates. “You are a genin. Just…not in the traditional sense. You’re special.”

“Like Itachi?” he asks, because Itachi is the only special person he knows.

“No,” Mikoto says, wetting her lips with her tongue, like Itachi does when he is nervous. It occurs to him, then, that Itachi picked up that habit from his Mother.

“Your Father and I had a talk,” she says.

Sasuke remembers the muddled conversation he overheard last night. He waits.

“We decided it would be best to wait. We don’t want you to join a team so soon.”

Standing, Sasuke looks at his Mother in horror. How can he catch up to Itachi if he isn’t given the same opportunities? “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Instead, we have decided to give you a private tutor. He is a Jounin and a very established ninja. We wanted to give you a special experience and have you grow up without the sway of the Uchiha Clan at your heels. By training under him you will get experience with the Sharingan as well as a less traditional method of ninja training. With him you will surely exceed your classmates because you will have a one-on-one pupil-teacher relationship. All of his time will be devoted to teaching you.”

And then, Mikoto says the one thing she knows that will convince Sasuke to follow her decision. “Under his training you can surpass even Itachi.”

Those last words thaw Sasuke’s desire to fight. “Really?” he asks, eager. “Who is it? How can someone have the Sharingan without being an Uchiha? I thought it wasn’t possible!”

“His is a very special case and one that isn’t my place to reveal. Maybe one day he will tell you, Sasuke. So, what do you think of this arrangement? Your Father and I thought it would be best. These times are not the same as when Itachi was growing up. It is better to have a childhood while you can.”

Sasuke pays no mind to his Mother’s words. The only thing he can think about is surpassing Itachi. Now, the chance to catch up is finally in his grasp.

“When can I meet him?”

Mikoto smiles and Sasuke smiles with her. In that moment, Mikoto sees herself reflected in Sasuke’s eyes.