うちはサスケ Uchiha Sasuke ("Loyalsuke") (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stirs_the_leaves) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-11-01 08:28 pm
stirs_the_leaves) wrote in towerofanimus2012-11-01 08:28 pm
Entry tags:
03 - Guilt and Hate
Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Romeo; CLOSED
Setting: Floor 13, Cathedral (may or may not branch out with the fighting)
Format: Prose
Summary: Sasuke intends to sequester himself in guilt after the events of October; Itachi discovers him and the inevitable battle ensues. Romeo eventually finds them and tries to stop them.
Warnings: Violence; angst, angst, angst; graphic gore.
Sasuke had managed to keep his composure until he'd made it from the dormitories to the cathedral. He'd taken note, in the short time before he'd changed, of how deserted it usually was, and how poorly sound carried. Perfect. He'd avoided coming into contact with anyone on the way here, thank the gods; once he arrived, he'd chosen a pew on the left side, as far towards the head of the church as he could get without interrupting the quiet whispers from no one. Then he'd taken the seat at the furthest end from center, sat, and wept.
He was a failure of a shinobi. His duty, his number one mission as a shinobi of Konohagakure, was to protect the village. He could hardly do that here, but he could do - and should have been doing - what any Konoha ninja worth his salt would do: protect the civilians. Keep things running smoothly. Be a shinobi. He'd failed utterly at all of it. He'd killed people. Civilians. Innocent bystanders.
And he'd done it wearing the orange skin of a youko.
His fingers clutched deeply into the fabric of his vest as he crossed his arms over himself, squeezing tightly down across his ribs to suppress some of the sound of his sobbing. He was an ANBU. His mission directly from Ibiki, directly from the Hokage, was to keep the Kyuubi in check. He couldn't even control himself at one tail, let alone as the numbers had grown.
One palm lifted to press against the cool metal of his hitai-ate. He didn't bother wiping away his tears.
Setting: Floor 13, Cathedral (may or may not branch out with the fighting)
Format: Prose
Summary: Sasuke intends to sequester himself in guilt after the events of October; Itachi discovers him and the inevitable battle ensues. Romeo eventually finds them and tries to stop them.
Warnings: Violence; angst, angst, angst; graphic gore.
Sasuke had managed to keep his composure until he'd made it from the dormitories to the cathedral. He'd taken note, in the short time before he'd changed, of how deserted it usually was, and how poorly sound carried. Perfect. He'd avoided coming into contact with anyone on the way here, thank the gods; once he arrived, he'd chosen a pew on the left side, as far towards the head of the church as he could get without interrupting the quiet whispers from no one. Then he'd taken the seat at the furthest end from center, sat, and wept.
He was a failure of a shinobi. His duty, his number one mission as a shinobi of Konohagakure, was to protect the village. He could hardly do that here, but he could do - and should have been doing - what any Konoha ninja worth his salt would do: protect the civilians. Keep things running smoothly. Be a shinobi. He'd failed utterly at all of it. He'd killed people. Civilians. Innocent bystanders.
And he'd done it wearing the orange skin of a youko.
His fingers clutched deeply into the fabric of his vest as he crossed his arms over himself, squeezing tightly down across his ribs to suppress some of the sound of his sobbing. He was an ANBU. His mission directly from Ibiki, directly from the Hokage, was to keep the Kyuubi in check. He couldn't even control himself at one tail, let alone as the numbers had grown.
One palm lifted to press against the cool metal of his hitai-ate. He didn't bother wiping away his tears.
3/4
The memories hit.
His eyes widened, hard-furrowed brows relaxing out and up into a picture of shock.
Love. Hurt. Loyalty.
Love.
His whole body twisted back, arm swinging immediately back out to one side, away from Itachi, far away from Itachi. He swung his weight back, shoulders tipping backward, feet throwing forward, just trying not to crash himself and his lightning into the other.
He stopped barely short, feet landing hard inches from Itachi's, weight wavering, rumpled green of his vest almost brushing Itachi's chest. His eyes, wide, one still running blood, stared up into his brother's from no more distance than the difference of their height.