No Revenge Is As Complete As Forgiveness

A/N: Yes, well, being an avid Pein fangirl I just couldn't NOT put him in the story somewhere, at least as a supporting character. :D



CHAPTER 2



Sasuke himself settled in one of the adjacent homes, not too far away from the place where he left Itachi. The house had once belonged to a distant uncle and aunt of his, an elderly pair he had barely known, so very few of his memories were connected to his place. It was nowhere as large as his parents’ home, though it possessed the same type of an overgrown garden, the plants practically bursting into the house through the shattered windows. It would take a lot of work to clean this place up.



Shrugging, he dumped his bag on the front porch and took out one of the Kunai that Naruto had allowed him to keep, then proceeded to cut the vines and other vegetation that had crawled over the boards. He took a tentative look inside the house and saw that it was as rundown as the rest of the compound – covered in dust and cobwebs. Sleeping in it tonight wouldn’t be too pleasant, so he resigned himself to sleep on the cleaned spot on the porch. He took out a thin blanket from the bag and unrolled it on the scratched wood, then curled up on top of it, grateful for the warm weather – just because he was a ninja and could put up with almost any sleeping conditions didn’t mean that he enjoyed it when his teeth chattered while sleeping. He knew that he should’ve unsealed the food and left some of it for Itachi, but at the time he had been too angry to bother.



The wood under his shoulder was hard and unyielding and the lack of a pillow made things even more uncomfortable, so he turned on his back and stared up at the sky – velvet black, with jewel stars twinkling down at him, the full moon shining brightly through the thick foliage of the overgrown vegetation. Because the area wasn’t inhabited – other than his brother and himself, that is – the air was clean of smoke and the smell of cooking foods. All he could feel was the lingering smell of dust that came from the house, mixed with the heavy fragrance of the blooming flowers. An owl cried somewhere in the night and Sasuke’s eyes slowly closed.



After seeing off the two Uchihas, Kakashi returned to the Hokage tower, knowing that Naruto would still be up and dealing with reports and other paperwork – he delegated as little as possible to his assistants, paranoid about which one of them were agents of the Council. Now that Danzo was out of the picture, only they and some of the Clan Leaders remained an obstacle for the reforms Naruto wished to introduce. Not delegating work, however, meant that he often stayed up very late.



Kakashi knocked on the door and heard Naruto’s muffled voice coming from the inside:



“Come in.”



The Jounin walked in and saw what he knew he would see – the blonde man sitting behind his desk, a single lamp illuminating his workspace in with bright yellowish glow. He held a letter with familiar handwriting in his hands.



“Is that a letter from Pein?” Kakashi asked.



“He’s decided to call himself Nagato again.” Naruto muttered. “And yes, it’s a letter from him. He wants to know if Itachi and Sasuke are safe and sound.” A crooked smile appeared on his face. “That man never seizes to amaze me – he’s capable of such overwhelming violence and yet so very protective of those he considers his underlings.”



“Aren’t you the same?” Kakashi asked with a small smile as he settled down on a chair next to Naruto to read the letter over his shoulder. Naruto snorted.



“I don’t attack villages on a mass scale.” He paused while reading the rest of the letter:



“And he’s agreed to pay for some of the property damage he caused a year ago. A gesture of good will, he calls it.”



“How did you manage to convince him too cooperate so much?”



“I didn’t. He did it on his own. I think he truly believed me, when I said that I would make his, our, dream come true.”



Kakashi leaned back on his chair and thought about the red-headed former Leader of Akatsuki and current leader of Amegakure no Sato. While that village remained largely closed off and isolated from the rest of the world, it had gradually began to open up, ever since Naruto finally deposed Danzo and assumed the Hokage role. Things were far from perfect for everyone – Danzo was still at large, as was Madara, both fleeing from combined wrath of the Hidden Villages, once their machinations were brought out into the open. Only Naruto’s growing influence had saved Ame from a direct attack which would’ve undoubtedly turned into a massacre. Pein, no, Nagato, had understood that and it had been the main reason why he had agreed to begin peace talks with Naruto.



That had been the reason why the two Uchihas had been returned – despite his influence, Naruto didn’t have complete sway over the Clan Heads or the Council yet, and they had set the condition for their return before they agreed on a dialog with Ame. Pressed between the need to protect his Akatsuki subordinates and the lives of his entire people, Nagato had eventually caved and sent the brothers back to Konoha.



“So what do I write back, Kakashi? How are Sasuke and Itachi? I saw that they didn’t settle in the same house.”



Kakashi, who too was connected to the surveillance seals on the Uchihas, nodded.



“Sasuke seemed calm when I left them, but it could’ve been a façade. You know how secretive he can be when he wants, and I am sure that he’s nowhere near forgiving his brother.”



Naruto nodded sadly.



“I’d imagine so.” He looked down at the letter again. “You know, once I told Itachi that I was a better brother to Sasuke than he could ever dream to be.”



“Oh? What did Itachi answer?” Kakashi asked.



“Nothing. He just smiled.”



“I see.”



“It must’ve been a terrible choice to make.” Naruto muttered.



The choice had shattered whatever sense of self he had possessed, so many years ago.



Unable to sleep in that wretched place filled with ghosts, Itachi couldn’t help but remember. Sitting in the same spot he now sat, Sasuke next to him, telling him that no matter what, he would always remain his big brother. How he had wished to just take the small boy in his arms and flee, run away from Konoha, from his father, from their clan, from all those who put him in this impossible position. It was an empty fantasy though. No matter how good and powerful he was, he was still barely in his teens, he didn’t have the stamina to flee for a long time while carrying Sasuke. He would be captured in less than a week. In the end, he stayed, and he had carried out the deed, knowing that if it wasn’t him, it would be ANBU, and they wouldn’t give his family quick and clean death. He knew what ANBU and that horrible man, Danzo, would do to them before they killed them. At least, this way he could make sure that they died as quickly and painlessly as possible, and most of all, he could make sure that Sasuke survived. Survived, and lived, and became a powerful nin on his own terms… It had been his dream, the one dream he allowed himself to have, after he became a kinslayer, for Sasuke to bring justice to him. To die at his beloved brother’s hands had been a sweet, beloved dream but like everything else, it became twisted beyond recognition. That, it seemed, was always the fate of all that Itachi touched.



He sighed and buried his face in his folded knees, trying to shut out the outside world. He knew that it must be a beautiful night, with the air so warm, the crickets chirping, the scent of the blooming wysterias so thick that it was intoxicating. The moon probably shined brightly above him. He wished he could see it, the silver-coated ghost of a house, the empty streets, the blood-stained floor in the back room. Perhaps that was sheer masochism, but he did want to see it. He couldn’t do that now, not anymore, his body, so broken after the fight with Sasuke, had become his prison. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to move from the room where Sasuke left him, THAT room, to the porch outside, without actually tripping on anything and falling over.



It was early morning when he finally fell in a nightmare-filled sleep, too exhausted to stay awake anymore.



Sasuke woke up early in the morning, his back sore from sleeping on the hard wood of the porch. He opened his bleary eyes and blinked a few times before becoming completely awake, the events from last night returning to his memory. He ran his hands over his face and got to his feet – best to face whatever new challenges the day presented him, rather than try to delay them. There was no point in procrastinating.



The well was in the same spot where he remembered it, though now the neat stone path leading to it was long hidden under the thick blanket of weeds. After tripping a few times on vines he managed to get to it and wash himself, then returned to the porch. In the weak morning light he saw that the house wasn’t in such a bad condition as he had feared last night – yes, it was quite dirty, and there were spider-webs all over the place, a few windows were broken, but other than that, it seemed pretty decent. He walked from room to room, inspecting the damage and filing the information in his head until he reached the dining room and stared at the arrangement. The low traditional table was still covered with a pale cloth, several plates and cups still standing, neatly arranged under the thick dust and cobwebs, the shriveled and dried up remains of food still in them. A porcelain cup had rolled on the floor where someone had dropped it, the stain from the spilled liquid still visible under the dust. His uncle and aunt must’ve been having dinner when Itachi attacked.



The sight of the room was like a snapshot of that night, a little piece of history that had survived intact, preserved and untouched for so many years, so that the lone survivor of that massacre – save the perpetrators, of course – could find it now, as sullied as it had been the night when the owners of the nice little dining room were slain.



Sasuke swallowed and balled his fists as he stood by the door and looked into the room, then slowly lifted his foot and entered. It became easier, after that first step, to approach the table, to grab it and lift, turn it over and throw everything back on the ground, the delicate porcelain crashing on the floor and shattering into hundreds of glittering pieces. He hid them when he threw the table cloth over the whole mess.



Panting, Sasuke turned around and left the room, ridiculously pleased that he had destroyed the little memento of THAT night.



He went back to the front porch, breathing heavily, trying to get his frayed nerves under control. He had thought, for a moment, that perhaps living here wouldn’t be that terrible. That he could cope, somehow, with the memories, with the gaping emptiness of the whole place, now inhabited by two living ghosts. Because that’s what he and Itachi were, after all, weren’t they? The last remnants of a cursed clan, both of them stained with blood and betrayal.



He stood there for a while, slowly regaining his composure and his determination to pass through this test as well. Uchiha Sasuke had been many things in his life – a student, a Ninja, a protégé of a sick old man, a rebel, a traitor. But most of all, he was a survivor. He was going to survive now too, if only to spite Itachi.



His brother immediately appeared in his mind’s eye, just as he had left him at their parents’ house the previous night – thin and pale wraith of a man, his long raven hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. The thought of his brother brought many conflicting emotions in him, especially now that he knew the truth. There was the old anger, and hate, and bitterness, but they were mixed with the same desire to please him, to make him proud, as well as a completely new feeling – to take care of him, now that he could no longer take care of himself. The last emotion filled him with self-loathing – how could he want to take care of someone who had committed such a terrible crime? Who had used his power, over and over again, to violate his mind, to manipulate him and shape him into whatever he wished? But he had done it for what he believed was his own good, hadn’t he? He had done it because he knew of the enemies Sasuke had, because he never seized to be the brother who soothed his fears when they sat on the porch, that warm summer afternoon all those years ago.



‘No matter what, I’ll always be your brother…’



Sasuke growled and stomped to his bag, taking out the scroll where Kakashi said he had sealed the food. His own stomach was growling already and he quickly unsealed it, discovering that Kakashi had left him with several large bags of rice, jars with pickled vegetables and some dried fish. With a sigh he went back inside and found the kitchen, then rummaged through his aunt’s cupboards until he found a suitable pot and some spices so he could actually boil the rice. There was no electricity, so he had to clean a spot in the yard from all the vegetation and improvise a hearth in order to cook. Once it was done, he put some of the rice in a pair of bowls, stuck several pieces of dried fish in them and paused. Did he just cook for Itachi? He glowered at the bowls. Then again, he couldn’t expect his brother to actually be able to cook for himself in that house, to find firewood, to cut it, to clean a spot for a hearth… let alone start a safe fire. Sasuke bit his lip angrily, put out the fire then sighed and grabbed the bowls. Now that he had decided not to kill Itachi, he couldn’t just starve him to death.



‘I’ll just bring it to him. It wouldn’t be like accepting him under my roof.’ He reasoned to himself and with final growl, headed for his parents’ house.



In the bright daylight, it didn’t appear that creepy – actually, all the flowers made it look almost homely. He went down the garden pathway – which, being much wider than his uncle’s, wasn’t completely taken over by the weeds and he could actually walk up to the house with ease.



He found Itachi on the porch where the two of them had sat so long ago, attempting to clean most of the random junk, dead leaves and still living vines cluttering it. He was crouched low, his nimble fingers working meticulously and with surprising precision, considering his handicap.



Itachi heard his footsteps and paused, lifting his face even if he couldn’t see him. Sasuke heard him sniffing the air, undoubtedly smelling the freshly cooked meal. He walked up to him and set the bowl harshly on the floorboards before him, then stuck the pair of chopsticks in the rice – a gesture which would be considered rather rude in a well-mannered company, but at the moment the conditions didn’t allow for very good manners.



“I brought you food.” Sasuke said.



Itachi tentatively reached towards the bowl and searched for it in vain for a few moments until Sasuke grabbed his wrist and put his hand on the side of the bowl.



“Thank you.” Itachi said quietly.



“Just don’t get any ideas. You’re not welcome in my home.”



“Where would that home be, Sasuke?” Itachi asked mildly.



“Why, you planning to come and kill me in my sleep?” Sasuke griped and Itachi turned his face down again.



“I could never kill you.” He whispered.



“No, you just make sure that I wish was dead.” Sasuke answered harshly and stomped away. However, as he got out of the house he paused, turned and went around the building, quietly sneaking around so he could see what Itachi was doing, knowing that with his damaged Chakra system, his brother could no longer sense his presence.



Itachi was sitting among the dried leaves and eating ravenously, sticking as much food in his mouth as he could and licking his fingers from time to time. It was a childish gesture and it made him look so innocent, and pure, as if nothing of the past 11 years had come to pass.



Sasuke’s stomach growled loudly and he turned away, unwilling to think about the scene and eager to go back to his own meal.