[For all it's worth, Itachi is a phantom presence in the old Uchiha household.
It's almost physically painful for him to be here. He can feel the way the rooms and walls and floors tremble with him near, as if terrified he's come back for another round. If the spirits of the Uchiha brethren have lingered, they must be in turmoil, hysterical over Itachi's return, twisting in their graves with sorrow.
He wakes early, doesn't sleep more than a scarce handful of hours, and is down in the kitchen cooking breakfast for two people without a word.
While he knows Sasuke can't look him in the eye, Itachi can't stop watching his brother. As if Sasuke is some strange creature, not raising a blade at the sight and sound of him.]
Sasuke. [His dark eyes again, no trace of red, lingering on the boy as he steps into the kitchen.] Here, eat.
[ They had made it into a routine; a painful little ritual that they carry on wordlessly, mechanically, until they retire every night to their own rooms and listen to the silence that haunts their dreams.
I'm not hungry, he wants to say, but he finds himself at the table, his head hanging and eyes staring down at the plate before him.
It wasn't Itachi that cooked their breakfasts. It was his mother. Itachi never cooked. Itachi was too busy, too busy for Sasuke himself, too busy to talk, too busy to spare half an hour. But now he isn't. Now he isn't and Sasuke wants to press himself against a wall in his room to avoid seeing him.
The irony almost makes him laugh. ]
When did you learn how to cook?
[ The words feel dry on his tongue, food barely swallowed in his throat. Why he only asks that now, Sasuke doesn't know.
[He knows that, too. And he knows Sasuke remembers what their mother's cooking tasted like, how relaxing it was to wake up every morning to her presence, the gentle smell of clean white sheets, trimmed roses and sweet food. It was different, when they had their mother.
You don't realize that loss until it's gone; you don't realize how much you loved your loved ones until they're gone, leaving behind a great gaping hole. Lonely, and uncomfortable, and strange.
Itachi's not a good cook. He's a fighter, born and bred, meant to die that way -- and now he's here. The rice porridge isn't too good -- it tastes a bit watery, though it's edible; their mother would laugh at his attempt, but pat him sweetly on the shoulder for the effort.]
Spare moments arose between missions, but otherwise, I haven't had the practice.
[Not the kind of practice that Sasuke must have, living by himself after Itachi left, after their family was killed. Itachi takes the chair across from him at the table, gaze never wavering, and he doesn't reach for any food
( ... )
[ It is bad. Sasuke could do better than this, he thinks. His eyes remain on the table, tracing the wood grains while he continues to deliver the porridge to his lips - he can't taste it, but he eats it. (How could he not?)
The bowl is half-empty when he stops, fingers curling around the spoon's warm metal. ]
You're not eating.
[ That feels strange on his tongue too. This whole... caring for his brother thing.
He doesn't know if he really does. He just knows that he doesn't want Itachi to die, he doesn't want Itachi to leave, he doesn't want to be alone again.
[Consciously, he's aware of the struggle that Sasuke is going through, and he knows why it's there. He wonders if Sasuke would prefer being here in this house alone, but he thinks Sasuke endured enough of that loneliness growing up.
Itachi sighs, though his eyes never stray far from his younger brother, as if making up for all the years he couldn't watch him grow.]
I'm not hungry, Sasuke.
[He wouldn't mind death. He doesn't want to live long in this village he abandoned, even less than he wants to live here, under this roof. Sasuke is the only reason he lingers.]
You haven't invited anyone.
[Itachi has noticed that his brother's friends don't come around -- Naruto and the Haruno girl, especially.]
[ So eat. You're too thin, too frail, you're skin and bones and I want you to live--
He eats in silence, stirring his porridge more than he swallows. His eyes stop just above Itachi's collarbone, thin and angular and accenting too-pale skin, then they move to Itachi's wrist, Itachi's hands, Itachi's fingers, making out joints and veins like they were outside that translucent skin.
Sasuke feels his stomach twist. ]
I told them not to come.
[ He doesn't want them to see him like this. He doesn't want them to see Itachi, to see what they've become, to see the pieces they're in, irreparable. He doesn't want to see the look on their faces, he doesn't want to talk to Naruto, to Sakura, or to anyone.
[Sasuke wants him to live-- an altogether alien concept, because for the better portion of their lives Sasuke was hellbent on putting him into his grave.
The man's lips curve with the vaguest of smiles, standing to find himself a small dish for a meager serving of porridge. But it's something. Itachi eats for a few moments in silence, swallowing very little at a time. It's not too good, is it, Sasuke? Perhaps next time Sasuke could make the meal.
Itachi raises his head, feeling his brother's eyes everywhere but on his face.]
They must worry.
[He knows, because Sasuke needs to remember that he has friends outside of this home. Sasuke doesn't have to be alone here, forced to endure Itachi's presence.
Itachi finally stands, carrying his empty dish to the sink, his back to Sasuke.]
[ Of course they do. He had seen the look on Naruto's face, lingering on his window every time he passes by the estate. He saw the way Sakura hovered near the gate with take-out in hand, and he saw her turn to disappear down the street.
They can deal with it.
He keeps silent from there until he finishes his porridge. It does nothing to sate his hunger, because there is no hunger. He hasn't felt it in weeks. Not after everything was over and he came back here with his brother. Not after this awkward coexistence began.
His sleeve brushes against Itachi's when he comes up to the sink - the closest they have been in weeks. He swallows. ]
I'll make dinner tonight.
[ It comes as barely a whisper, loud enough for him to hear his own voice. And he's gone, leaving the dish there with Itachi's in the sink. ]
[ There isn't anything to do in their place. The scrolls Sasuke has already memorized since twelve, and everything else reminds him of his life before, his life when everything was still intact, his life when everything was one color, one destination, one emotion.
He can feel their eyes on him when he steps out to the garden. He knows where they're hiding. He knows that they know that he knows they're watching him. Him and Itachi, the two missing-nins who barely escaped death sentence.
There are seals around the estate - seals necessary to contain their chakra, contain their strength. They're dangerous, after all - the sole survivors of the Uchiha clan, the most powerful, the most destructive, (the most tragic-) And Sasuke doesn't complain. He doesn't know what to use all of this power for anymore, now that he has nothing to destroy, now that he has no purpose in life to focus on. The thought of reviving his clan lives, but that feels like too far a dream to him, as if he's still living in surrealism
( ... )
[It's difficult to adjust to the lack of killer's intent in Sasuke's eyes, as they stand before each other now. Itachi expects the rage of a brother betrayed and abandoned, and instead he finds one...lost, uncertain, but resilient. Sasuke has grown up into something he doesn't recognize, something he never intended for him to become
( ... )
[ Sasuke doesn't suppress the tension that grips him the moment he feels it - Itachi's presence, Itachi's chakra, even what's little left of Itachi's painted malice. It has an effect on him even now, even when Sasuke has abandoned most of the hatred he cultivated, nurtured, the hatred that was his life before he found out about the lies.
His eyes spin, teeth digging into his bottom lip. ]
What are you doing?
[ I don't want to fight you. I don't want to hurt you.
And he knows it's not simple sparring. With Itachi, it's never a simple sparring. Simple sparrings stopped a long time ago when Itachi was still with him and their clan was still flesh and blood rather than dirt and bones. No longer did he cross blades with his brother so innocently, never aiming to hurt or kill.
[It may be different, this time. He feels Sasuke's blatant hesitation, knowing why it's there. Knowing why, if Sasuke lunges, he won't go for the throat, he won't put all of his talent and determination into his fights. Sasuke doesn't want to kill him -- they've hit an impasse here, and there's no way out of it now that Sasuke knows the truth. Itachi feels the threat of disappointment, but he knows better.
He hadn't expected differently. He'd misjudged, underestimated his brother.
What is he doing?
Itachi lets out a fast, panted breath, just to expel the air from his lungs.]
It's almost physically painful for him to be here. He can feel the way the rooms and walls and floors tremble with him near, as if terrified he's come back for another round. If the spirits of the Uchiha brethren have lingered, they must be in turmoil, hysterical over Itachi's return, twisting in their graves with sorrow.
He wakes early, doesn't sleep more than a scarce handful of hours, and is down in the kitchen cooking breakfast for two people without a word.
While he knows Sasuke can't look him in the eye, Itachi can't stop watching his brother. As if Sasuke is some strange creature, not raising a blade at the sight and sound of him.]
Sasuke. [His dark eyes again, no trace of red, lingering on the boy as he steps into the kitchen.] Here, eat.
[This is their punishment.]
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I'm not hungry, he wants to say, but he finds himself at the table, his head hanging and eyes staring down at the plate before him.
It wasn't Itachi that cooked their breakfasts. It was his mother. Itachi never cooked. Itachi was too busy, too busy for Sasuke himself, too busy to talk, too busy to spare half an hour. But now he isn't. Now he isn't and Sasuke wants to press himself against a wall in his room to avoid seeing him.
The irony almost makes him laugh. ]
When did you learn how to cook?
[ The words feel dry on his tongue, food barely swallowed in his throat. Why he only asks that now, Sasuke doesn't know.
He just wants to say something. ]
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You don't realize that loss until it's gone; you don't realize how much you loved your loved ones until they're gone, leaving behind a great gaping hole. Lonely, and uncomfortable, and strange.
Itachi's not a good cook. He's a fighter, born and bred, meant to die that way -- and now he's here. The rice porridge isn't too good -- it tastes a bit watery, though it's edible; their mother would laugh at his attempt, but pat him sweetly on the shoulder for the effort.]
Spare moments arose between missions, but otherwise, I haven't had the practice.
[Not the kind of practice that Sasuke must have, living by himself after Itachi left, after their family was killed. Itachi takes the chair across from him at the table, gaze never wavering, and he doesn't reach for any food ( ... )
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The bowl is half-empty when he stops, fingers curling around the spoon's warm metal. ]
You're not eating.
[ That feels strange on his tongue too. This whole... caring for his brother thing.
He doesn't know if he really does. He just knows that he doesn't want Itachi to die, he doesn't want Itachi to leave, he doesn't want to be alone again.
He doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. ]
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Itachi sighs, though his eyes never stray far from his younger brother, as if making up for all the years he couldn't watch him grow.]
I'm not hungry, Sasuke.
[He wouldn't mind death. He doesn't want to live long in this village he abandoned, even less than he wants to live here, under this roof. Sasuke is the only reason he lingers.]
You haven't invited anyone.
[Itachi has noticed that his brother's friends don't come around -- Naruto and the Haruno girl, especially.]
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[ So eat. You're too thin, too frail, you're skin and bones and I want you to live--
He eats in silence, stirring his porridge more than he swallows. His eyes stop just above Itachi's collarbone, thin and angular and accenting too-pale skin, then they move to Itachi's wrist, Itachi's hands, Itachi's fingers, making out joints and veins like they were outside that translucent skin.
Sasuke feels his stomach twist. ]
I told them not to come.
[ He doesn't want them to see him like this. He doesn't want them to see Itachi, to see what they've become, to see the pieces they're in, irreparable. He doesn't want to see the look on their faces, he doesn't want to talk to Naruto, to Sakura, or to anyone.
Not right now. ]
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The man's lips curve with the vaguest of smiles, standing to find himself a small dish for a meager serving of porridge. But it's something. Itachi eats for a few moments in silence, swallowing very little at a time. It's not too good, is it, Sasuke? Perhaps next time Sasuke could make the meal.
Itachi raises his head, feeling his brother's eyes everywhere but on his face.]
They must worry.
[He knows, because Sasuke needs to remember that he has friends outside of this home. Sasuke doesn't have to be alone here, forced to endure Itachi's presence.
Itachi finally stands, carrying his empty dish to the sink, his back to Sasuke.]
I'll have tea in a few hours.
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They can deal with it.
He keeps silent from there until he finishes his porridge. It does nothing to sate his hunger, because there is no hunger. He hasn't felt it in weeks. Not after everything was over and he came back here with his brother. Not after this awkward coexistence began.
His sleeve brushes against Itachi's when he comes up to the sink - the closest they have been in weeks. He swallows. ]
I'll make dinner tonight.
[ It comes as barely a whisper, loud enough for him to hear his own voice. And he's gone, leaving the dish there with Itachi's in the sink. ]
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He can feel their eyes on him when he steps out to the garden. He knows where they're hiding. He knows that they know that he knows they're watching him. Him and Itachi, the two missing-nins who barely escaped death sentence.
There are seals around the estate - seals necessary to contain their chakra, contain their strength. They're dangerous, after all - the sole survivors of the Uchiha clan, the most powerful, the most destructive, (the most tragic-) And Sasuke doesn't complain. He doesn't know what to use all of this power for anymore, now that he has nothing to destroy, now that he has no purpose in life to focus on. The thought of reviving his clan lives, but that feels like too far a dream to him, as if he's still living in surrealism ( ... )
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His eyes spin, teeth digging into his bottom lip. ]
What are you doing?
[ I don't want to fight you. I don't want to hurt you.
And he knows it's not simple sparring. With Itachi, it's never a simple sparring. Simple sparrings stopped a long time ago when Itachi was still with him and their clan was still flesh and blood rather than dirt and bones. No longer did he cross blades with his brother so innocently, never aiming to hurt or kill.
He doesn't move. ]
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He hadn't expected differently. He'd misjudged, underestimated his brother.
What is he doing?
Itachi lets out a fast, panted breath, just to expel the air from his lungs.]
I want you to fight me, Sasuke.
[Fight him like you mean it.]
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