53

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE:

Itachi felt drained as he returned to the Akatsuki base. His mission had been a success– of course it had– but he hadn't appreciated being partnered with Sasori, no matter how temporary the arrangement promised to be. He missed working with Biwa Jūzō. Despite his reputed inhumane brutality, the Kiri missing-nin had been patient and meticulous, with a professional approach to missions that Itachi had admired– and now sorely missed, after being paired with the childishly theatrical Sasori. Biwa's recent loss had been a blow for the Akatsuki that Itachi supported in principle but found himself personally disgruntled over as he was rotated through the other Akatsuki members while a new permanent partner was searched out for him.

After they'd reported the success of their mission to Pein, Itachi gladly split ways from Sasori, retreating to the room at the base he called his own. After nearly a month of travelling, he found himself keener than he'd have thought to return to Amegakure– perhaps it was the illusion of safety provided by the base. As an ex-ANBU he should know better than to associate any part of the organisation he was infiltrating with safety or comfort, but Itachi didn't know how long this deep-cover mission would last and he thought he'd go mad if he was forced to remain on his guard the entire time.

Well, madder than he already was. Nobody helped massacre their entire clan, execute their parents and torture their beloved brother only to come out of it entirely sane. But he was an Uchiha– insanity burned hot in their blood and he was adept enough at managing it.

Distracted by his thoughts– and shamefully off-guard as a result of the safety illusion provided by the base– it took Itachi an unforgivable second and a half to notice the interloper in his assigned room.

His entire body went tense the moment he registered the presence of Orochimaru, his fellow Konoha missing-nin leaning lazily back against one of the walls, watching him with a single gleaming golden eye– the other, hidden behind a strip of silk, Itachi knew to now be a vivid, bloody red.

He had barely interacted with Orochimaru following the Sharingan transplant. Konan had taken him aside to question him, the day that followed, obviously concerned about just how willing the donation of a Sharingan could have been. It was only his promise that the transplant had been entirely willing on his behalf that had Konan stepping back from the situation, though Itachi wasn't ignorant to the suspicion towards Orochimaru that lingered. It was partially because of this that Itachi found himself waiting expectantly each day for the announcement that Orochimaru had left the Akatsuki– not that the Akatsuki was the type of organisation one merely left, but Orochimaru had enough skill and cunning that he didn't doubt the man had an exit plan.

This, however– this invasion to the sanctity of his private room– this was unexpected.

"Can I help you?" Itachi asked anyway, because he had been raided a clan heir– proper manners had been drilled into him since before he could even talk.

Orochimaru smiled at him, a mildly disturbing sight. "Ah, Itachi-kun," he said, his voice smooth and deceptively light. "I'm guessing you haven't heard the news?"

"News?" Itachi repeated, carefully mimicking Orochimaru's light tone. Orochimaru's smile widened.

"The Chūnin Exams were particularly eventful this time around," he said and Itachi felt confused as to why the Snake Sannin would choose to mention the Exams, or why a legendary nin like Orochimaru would even bother to take note of the progress of shinobi so far below him in rank and skill.

Orochimaru didn't make him ask for more details, at least, instead offering them up with a sly smile and gleaming eye.

"That Kirigakure was chosen to host the Exams already promised an interesting show," he said, "but to have a real Uzumaki compete in them– well, that came as a surprise to everyone."

Itachi found it suddenly difficult to breathe, though he knew better than to let that show on his face as he stared back at the predator lounging across from him. Orochimaru's single golden eye gleamed with cold, analytical interest, as if Orochimaru was peeling back Itachi's skin, examining the bone and viscera beneath, and he carefully held himself from flinching.

It was blatantly clear to them both that the other Konoha missing-nin was aware of a connection between Fuyuko and himself and that he was assessing Itachi's reaction in order to read into the depth of the connection. Personally, Itachi wasn't even sure how he would classify his connection to the younger of the Uzumaki twins. How did you define a relationship in which you'd met just the once, and yet the other knew your greatest of weaknesses, your darkest of secrets?

And then there was having to contend with the second part of Orochimaru's shocking revelation– Fuyuko had been sent to Kiri for her chūnin exam.

He... wasn't even able to properly comprehend such madness. It had to be a lie. Sending a genin, one so young, to the vicious bloodbath that was Kiri would be a death sentence, no matter how prodigious the child. To send an Uzumaki right into the belly of the beast that had reduced Uzushio to little more than rubble and bones...

Itachi could not think of a single reason why the Hokage would make such a choice.

No– that was a lie. There was one reason why his Kage would send an Uzumaki genin to Kiri, he simply could not bear to admit to such a horrifying truth, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Because how did one confront the realisation that your Kage had sent a child to die? That he had sent her off to be viciously slaughtered?

...perhaps the same way that one was forced to reconcile with the icy revelation that their Kage would simply prefer to look the other way when an old friend committed treason, ordering an entire clan bar only the most inarguably innocent and defenceless among them, executed under charges of treason that only the highest ranked of them were even aware or guilty of.

Orochimaru's mouth had curled slightly at the corners and Itachi could read the cold amusement there, on that sly face. Distantly, he could help but wonder just how aware Orochimaru was of Itachi's true loyalties. He suspected that the Snake Sannin had a suspicion that Itachi was still a loyal Konoha nin. That he still swore his life and loyalty to the Hokage. Why else would he take such obvious, unhidden pleasure in brutally stripping away any illusions that Itachi clung to with desperate, blood-soaked fingers from the truth of the man he bowed to, who he belonged to. Because in the end, Saturobi Hiruzen was as monstrous as any other shinobi; selfish and greedy and uncaring of the mountains of corpses he left in his wake.

"Did she survive?" Itachi couldn't stop himself from asking even as a terrible numbness started to creep out from his extremities.

Orochimaru's visible eye glittered. "Oh yes," he practically purred. Itachi had the span of a single heartbeat to experience the almost crushing relief, only for the Snake Sannin to add, "in fact, she won the entire Exam."

Itachi looked back at Orochimaru in horror.

Surviving the Kiri Exams as a not even eight-year-old Uzumaki genin was one thing– but winning?

There was a reason that two of the Hidden Villages had chosen to ally themselves to destroy Uzushio and hunt down every survivor they could.

(There was a reason, Itachi suspected, in the darkest, most disloyal depths of his mind, that Konoha had been too late to save the island and its people)

And that reason was fear.

Fear of the strength of Uzushio and the Uzumaki who had led them. And now... now Fuyuko had demonstrated for the world that the other Hidden Villages should be afraid, that they should fear an Uzumaki and just what they were capable of.

Fuyuko had just placed a target on her back and Itachi did not doubt that every Hidden Village, allied to the Leaf or not, would be desperate to kill the Uzumaki child who had won the Kiri Chūnin Exams before she could grow into an even more terrifying threat to them than they already viewed her.

Fuyuko may have survived the Exams, but Itachi couldn't help but think she had never been in more danger.

"You understand, then," Orochimaru murmured.

He almost sounded pleased.

"It's difficult not to," Itachi spoke through numb lips.

"She will need to train hard, to grow strong," Orochimaru said, almost idly. "I wonder– do you think Konoha will let her?"

Or rather, as Itachi understood Orochimaru to be implying– did he think that the Hokage would let her?

Sarutobi had already tried to see her dead. He had given her to Danzo, when Fuyuko had proved he could not control her. And Fuyuko had, in turn, seen Danzo disgraced, discredited and destroyed.

It didn't take a prodigy to realise Sarutobi may believe he was next.

Itachi couldn't even say with any certainty that the Hokage wasn't. He'd only caught glimpses, yet he knew Fuyuko's anger to be a frozen, terrible thing that ran deep. It would be so much easier for the Hokage, so much more convenient, for Fuyuko to die before she could become even more of a problem than she already was.

So no, he thought, helpless. No, he did not believe that the Hokage would allow Fuyuko to gain the strength she needed to survive.

"The only question now," Orochimaru said, reading Itachi's answer in his face, golden eye glittering with some emotion that Itachi could not identify, "the only question that matters– what is it will you do, little Itachi-kun?"

~

Sansa almost felt as if she could tremble out of her skin from her excitement as she approached the apartment she and Naruto shared, her attention focused on the bright whirlwind-storm of chakra that was her brother. She had been so determined that she would leave Kiri alive yet there had been no preventing the poisonous doubt that had lingered, creeping through her like winter's first frost with the knowledge of the immensity of the trial before her.

But she had survived. And not just survived– she had won, she had shown the world that not all of Uzushio was lost, that there existed Uzumaki still that drew breath. There was no grander prize she could imagine than that; a promotion she could not possibly care less about, nor the Hokage's disappointment at her victory, sweet as it was, could possibly compare.

And now, as she climbed the stairs of their shabby apartment building, her excitement setting her blood singing in her veins, Sansa could not wait to share her joy with Naruto.

Finally reaching the apartment they shared, Sansa knocked and waited for her brother to answer. She heard his shriek of excitement before the door even opened; it flew open so quickly it almost hit her in the face and Sansa barely had time to brace herself before she had an armful of Naruto.

"KO-ANE!" His shout almost deafened her but Sansa didn't care, she only clung to him tighter, burying her face in his neck. Their chakra mixed, merged; the winds and oceans creating whirlpools– ninshū, Sansa thought, feeling Naruto's love for her, bright and warming her to her icy, winter core.

"I love you too," Sansa breathed and Naruto sniffed.

"I missed ya," he told her.

"Missed you," she corrected automatically and he giggled, the sound slightly wet.

"I missed you," he corrected himself obediently.

It was an awkwardly cleared throat that alerted Sansa to the fact they had an audience– she blamed the bonfire of Naruto's chakra from distracting her to any other presence in their immediate vicinity. There was a moment where she froze up, her chakra twisting into defensive seals under her palms, the memory of bloodshed too fresh behind her eyelids, only for her to look up, over Naruto's shoulder, at the second person in their apartment.

Oh, she thought, letting her chakra flow back into its normal oceans as she released Naruto, stepping back slightly to look over their guest.

Uchiha Sasuke only resembled Itachi in so much as Sansa had resembled her Aunt Lysa; they shared the classic features of their bloodline, but Sasuke's face was softer, rounder. More innocent, even with the loss that haunted him.

Sansa's heart ached for the boy. She understood the choice Itachi had made. She understood why, even. Itachi was a child, backed into a corner and manipulated by those older and smarter and crueller than him into believing a black and white dichotomy where only one choice led to peace in the village and his little brother's survival. Itachi loved Sasuke just as she loved Naruto; enough to burn the world for him. And so he had; he had burned Sasuke's world to the ground so that Sasuke may rise from its ashes– wounded, bleeding, but alive.

Sansa had wondered why Danzo chose Itachi to kill the Uchiha. As Kakashi said, there were more humane ways to stop a coup. But instead, Danzo had taken a child and he'd shattered that child into so many pieces that it had been simple work for him to take those pieces and shape Itachi into the monster, the kinslayer, he'd needed. That everyone believed Itachi now to be.

She supposed it did make sense, in a wretched sort of way. It was a final punishment to the clan head of the Uchiha, Itachi's father, for planning the coup– if the village had ordered their deaths, the Uchiha could be seen as victims to Konoha's government, even if they were charged as having committed treason, and it would have left a stain over Konoha's reputation, just as Kiri's bloodline clan culling had. Instead, it was an Uchiha who was seen as the monster, a clan killer, a kinslayer– and not just any Uchiha, but the clan head's firstborn son, the clan heir, their prodigy, their pride.

Sansa couldn't help but admire the sheer ruthless cunning of it– and be appalled at the astounding cruelty of letting everyone believe a young boy to be a willing, eager mass murderer of his own kin, including this child standing before her, this child who, more than anybody else, deserved the truth.

Knowing the truth might not change anything; Sasuke could still hate Itachi, could still wish for nothing more than to one day hunt him down and kill him in revenge for the lives of his Clan, and she couldn't deny that it would be justified. Or perhaps Sasuke shared that same love as Itachi; that same burning, all-consuming love that held his brother above any and every other life, and he would find it within himself to move past the ghastly horrors Itachi had committed.

Sasuke deserved to know so he could make that choice knowing the truth of the matter.

But for now, Sansa forced herself to smile as Naruto introduced her to their house guest.

Or possibly their new roommate, if the new sleeping mat rolled on the floor was any indication.

"This is Sasuke," Naruto said, beaming at her, all bright sunshine as his chakra pressed against hers, whirlwinds dancing with waves. "He's my friend!"

"...Naruto said it was okay if I stayed over," Sasuke mumbled. He couldn't seem to quite look her in the eye.

"Of course," Sansa said, keeping her voice light. "For however long you want."

She was careful to avoid the word 'need', though she could understand why Sasuke might want to avoid the Uchiha District. How hated and feared he must be, as the brother of the shinobi who had slaughtered all their kin. How unwelcome he must feel in their midst.

"Sasuke is super good at the katas they teach at the Academy," Naruto informed her brightly. "He's teachin' them to me, so I can get better!"

Sansa felt her heart warm as she looked back at her brother, at his bright eagerness and enthusiasm, how he hadn't even hesitated to boast not of his own accomplishments but of those of his peer. "I can help you train too, now that the Chūnin Exams are over," she said and Naruto's eyes lit up with delight at her offer. "I can help you start with ninjutsu."

"Really?" her brother gasped in wide-eyed delight.

"Really," Sansa confirmed with a smile and Naruto shouted out with glee, jumping up and down in his excitement before pausing, turning to Sasuke who was silent, standing far too still as he stared down at the floor, grief-anger-envy-longing twisting in his chakra as his hands clenched at his sides.

"You'll teach Sasuke too, right?" Naruto said, looking over at her with big, blue pleading eyes.

"Well of course," Sansa said lightly, pretending she didn't notice the way Sasuke's head jerked up, badly concealed hope in his dark eyes. "If he's teaching you the Academy katas, it's only fair."

"Yes!" Naruto punched the air and even Sasuke managed a smile, the turbulence of his chakra smoothing out into relief and a heart-wrenchingly hesitant happiness.

Sansa wished she shared their excitement at the thought of training, but as she looked over at them, she couldn't help but think of the broken bodies of children, of the mountain of bloody corpses she had clawed her way over to get to where she was, standing here before them. She thought of the pain and the suffering and she wanted to cry at the thought of teaching these children to become killers like her.

Sensing her shift in emotions, Naruto paused in his celebrations and excitement, looking over at her in concern.

Sansa took a deep breath. No, she told herself. No, she wasn't going to teach them to become killers. She had had no choice about the path they had been forced on– but she would teach them how to survive it.

"I won't shield you from the truth," she said quietly, drawing both Naruto and Sasuke's full attention. "A shinobi leads a cruel life. There is much pain and suffering that we are forced to endure."

And oh, it hurt, to refer to herself as a shinobi.

"I won't teach you to be killers," she continued, "because that is not my way. At my heart, at the heart of my people, our people, Naruto, shinobi are protectors. We are protectors."

"But that's not enough!" Sasuke burst out, an urgent sort of desperation in his dark eyes. "I need to be strong– I need to learn how to be a– a killer, because I need to k-kill Him."

Sansa's heart wrenched in her chest as she looked at him, really looked at him; at the glitter of unshed tears, the desperation, the barely hidden rage burning underneath. She remembered being Sasuke, once; she remembered having her family brutally slaughtered while she was left powerless to avenge them, just a stupid little girl.

"I will help you," she promised Sasuke, "I will help you grow stronger. But only once you've heard the truth."

"The truth?" Sasuke parroted, the confusion clear on his face. 

"The truth," Sansa said, very, very quietly, giving Naruto a look. He immediately hurried over to the wall, peeling back the corner of wallpaper to reveal the seal underneath. He bit his thumb, bloodying the skin to press against the seal. A moment later, the seal blazed gold, ensuring that no sound would escape this room and no one spying through the windows would think to read their lips– their minds would simply shift away from the conversations happening before them.

"What is going on?" Demanded Sasuke with growing anger and unease, his chakra a volatile, crackling energy inside him. Sansa was surprised when Naruto immediately moved back across the apartment to lean into the other boy, his chakra melding with Sasuke's the way it did hers, and was even more surprised when Sasuke calmed slightly, suggesting a greater sensitivity to ninshū. "What truth are you talking about?" Sasuke asked again, this time without raising his voice.

"The truth they are trying to hide from you. I was forbidden from telling you this under threat of being sentenced with treason against the village," Sansa admitted, remembering the debrief after meeting Itachi. "I could be executed if they find out." Putting the weight of this on a child was despicably cruel, she knew. And yet– "But you deserve the truth," she said softly. "And so does your brother."

Sansa watched as Sasuke's expression twisted up in pain and rage and reached up to cradle his face in her small hands, so pale they were for all the blood that stained them. Standing beside Sasuke, Naruto leaned into the boy, ready as a pillar of support.

"Itachi was given orders," she whispered, despite knowing the seals would prevent any sound from escaping the apartment.

Sasuke turned white.

"There was a coup being planned. The Uchiha were unhappy with the village leadership. I don't blame them," she admitted. She still believed a coup wasn't the right choice, not for the amount of innocent blood that would have flowed through Konoha's streets, but the Uchiha had been justified in their discontent. "I don't blame them for their discontent with the village leadership– I share a similar discontent myself– but a coup would have meant civil war and hundreds, if not thousands, of innocents would have died. That was why Itachi and Shisui went to the Hokage, looking for a solution– one that would lead to the least amount of bloodshed and peace within the village."

Itachi had revealed everything to her, in the hours they'd spent in her mindscape. And now, she told Sasuke. About the spying, the planning, about Shisui's Mangekyou Sharingan, about how Danzo stole it and most likely used it on Shisui, causing him to commit suicide. She then told him about the orders Itachi was given by Danzo. The civilian women and pre-Academy aged children could live, and so could Sasuke, so long as Itachi killed the rest.

She told him how the Sandaime knew of Danzo's actions and did nothing. How he hadn't given the orders himself, but he hadn't done anything to censure or reprimand Danzo in the aftermath. How he had allowed Itachi to be branded as an S class missing-nin at just thirteen years of age, leaving him a target without back-up, all alone in the world.

"You don't have to forgive your brother," Sansa finished heavily, still cradling Sasuke's face in her hands. He was a ghastly, sickly white, his expression frozen. "He did a terrible, terrible thing," she said quietly, "and he hurt you very badly, yet in the end, it wasn't truly a decision made of his free will."

A gasping sound tore out of Sasuke and he collapsed, his legs no longer holding him up. Sansa caught him and Naruto whined, pressing into Sasuke's side, clinging to him both physically and through his chakra. Sansa carefully lowered their bodies down so the three of them were kneeling.

Sasuke's whole body shuddered as violent sobs ripped from his throat; he sounded like he was dying. Sansa thought a part of him was, the last vestiges of any trust he had in the world. He had been betrayed by every authority figure in his life, every person he should have been able to trust, to rely on; his parents, for planning a coup, his brother, for murdering them, and the village, for ordering his brother to murder them and then looking the other way, allowing his brother to go down in history as a kin-slayer.

Sansa knew what it was to feel the sharp knife of betrayal, to feel the bite of its blade as it slipped between her ribs, to pierce her heart, had felt it too many times to count. But she was unsure if she had ever felt a betrayal quite as world-shattering as the betrayal Sasuke must be feeling. The foundations of his life that he had built from the ashes of his murdered clan had just been shattered into too many pieces to ever be fitted back together.

But Naruto seemed determined to try– and for Naruto, Sansa would try.

She hummed quietly, rocking the weeping boy in her arms as she used to rock her children when they were small and soft, before life had turned them sharp and cunning. It was an old Northern lullaby, as much a warning as it was soothing;

"Sleep sleep sleep

Don't lie too close to the edge of the bed

Or the grey wolf will come

And grab you by the flank...

And drag you to the forest...

Down under the weirwood roots*"

The North knew to teach their children caution, even as they sang them to sleep. In her arms, Sasuke's terrible sobs eventually slowed as he exhausted himself until he finally fell silent, slumped in her arms without the energy to lift himself up.

"Grab him something to sleep in," Sansa murmured to Naruto, who nodded quickly and scampered across the apartment to their lone wardrobe, returning moments later with jinbei she didn't recognise, the traditional set of kimono-style top and loose trousers a dark navy.

Between them, they managed to change the unresponsive Sasuke into his nightwear, Naruto sitting with him while Sansa did the same, then trading places. Once they were all in their nightwear, Sansa left Sasuke with his head in Naruto's lap, Naruto's chakra a gentle, protective blanket over the other boy, as she prepared dinner for them.

It wasn't anything fancy; Naruto was a far better cook then her, but she managed to boil the instant ramen Naruto was so fond of, as well as several boiled eggs, spinach and bean sprouts. Naruto pulled a face at the vegetables but didn't complain– Sansa dreaded the day he wised up to the falsity she'd told him about his "belly-fox" and Kurama's need for vegetables.

Sasuke didn't touch the ramen, which didn't surprise her. He was still largely unresponsive, which was concerning but also unsurprising, and Sansa just washed up from dinner, putting Sasuke's bowl in their fridge while Naruto pushed the couch to the side of the room so all three sleeping mats could be pushed together.

Sasuke didn't seem to have a problem with the encroachment on his personal space, as Naruto firmly pushed him into the middle, wrapping an arm around him and burying his face in the back of Sasuke's neck, while Sansa guarded his tender belly from any who would seek to attack in his sleep (though that may be her instincts talking). If anything, he seemed relieved, his chakra reacting even as he didn't, reaching almost desperately for Naruto's; they created a storm where they met, wild, twisting winds colliding with a flame that burned so searingly hot and bright that it sparked and crackled like lightning**.

"Ko-ane," Naruto asked quietly, "will you tell us a story?"

"Of course," Sansa said softly. "Once upon a time," she began, "there was a King. This King ruled an ancient land, as his ancestors had, for eight thousand years. But a Conqueror came, flying fire breathing monsters of legend, and he threatened to turn the Kingdom to ash, should the King not kneel before him and hand over his crown.

"And so, the King looked at his people in sorrow and fell to his knees before the Conqueror, surrendering his sword and his crown both and the Conqueror placed the crown upon his brow and declared himself King. But the man who had once been King knew better. For his ancient land could not be conquered and the Conqueror had angered the Old Gods when he tried.

"Once the Conqueror rode his fire-breathing monsters away from the kingdom, the once-King went to the sacred forest of the Old Gods and knelt before them. 'By my blood,' he declared, slashing his hand open and letting his blood drip onto the pale trunks, 'I vow my Kingdom will one day be free once more– and until that day, let the Conqueror and his descendants know no peace, for in their greed they have claimed what is not theirs to claim, they have taken what is not in their right to take.' And the Old Gods listened, for the once-King spoke wisely and truly.

"For three hundred years, the Conqueror's family ruled. And for three hundred years, they suffered misfortune and despair, their numbers cut down until they were banished and at last the once-King's descendants were free to rise up again, reclaiming their lost crown."

"Winter is Coming," Naruto said softly, meeting her eyes over Sasuke's dark head. Sansa smiled, even as her chest ached with old memories.

"That's right, my love," she murmured.

Sasuke hadn't moved during her retelling of Torrhen Stark kneeling and Robb Stark's crowning, but Sansa could feel the faint flicker of interest in his chakra, which was the most sign of life he'd shown so far.

"Can you tell the story about the Lady Samurai Brienne next?" Naruto asked and Sansa settled in for a night of story-telling, the gentle cadence of her voice setting Sasuke as at ease as was possible until eventually the boys fell asleep as Sansa could close her own eyes and rest.

Sasuke woke screaming during the night. This didn't surprise her. Sansa had disrupted Naruto's sleep more than once with her own nightmares, and considering everything that had happened in Kiri she was honestly surprised it wasn't her that had woken them all with her cries.

Naruto was already restraining Sasuke with a very firm cuddle, carefully pinning his limbs to stop him from flailing and hurting himself. Sasuke was panting hard, the whites of his eyes showing.

"He– he killed them," he wailed, his voice so raspy it was barely audible. "He killed them! I hate him!"

"It's okay, sweetling," Sansa said softly, leaning over to cup his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. "You're allowed to, you're allowed to hate him." The gods only knew Itachi hated himself for what he'd done.

"I hate him," Sasuke sobbed wretchedly, "I hate him– he killed them, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him–"

"It's okay," Sansa whispered, her heart aching in sympathy. "It's okay to love him too."

Sasuke cried. He stopped fighting Naruto and curled forwards, his tears soaking into the curve of her neck as he clung to Naruto. "Why didn't he kill me too?" the boy sobbed. "Why did he leave me alive if it wasn't because I was too– too weak?" 

"Because he loves you," Sansa answered honestly.

"Then why did he hurt me? Why did he say I was weak?" Sasuke demanded, anger now colouring his voice through the thick tears.

Sansa hesitated. "I don't know," she said quietly, "he didn't tell me... but I suspect he wanted you to kill him, as atonement for what he did."

"And he thinks that will make things better?" Sasuke asked, incredulous and half-hysterical. "He thinks– he thinks him dying will make me feel less– less–" Sasuke didn't appear to be able to find the words to describe how he felt, instead dissolving into shuddering, choked off, enraged sobs. "He's so stupid!" The boy spat out, between sobs.

"He's alone and without any good options," Sansa sighed. "I think a certain degree of stupidity is to be expected. But you certainly won't find me disagreeing."

It was a miserable situation all around and there were no true words of comfort she could give. No explanations or answers that would ease Sasuke's mind. All she and Naruto could do now was be there for him.

~

* edited version of Russian lullaby 'Bayu Bayushki Bayu'

**rare forms of lightning can be sparked by extreme forest fires and volcanic eruptions.