Uchiha Sasuke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lostmylight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
one_long_mission2013-02-19 10:06 pm
lostmylight) wrote in one_long_mission2013-02-19 10:06 pm
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He's a wanderer.
Ever since the traumatic day when everything was taken from him, he's been a wanderer. Nothing more, nothing less. A shinobi? Only in the barest terms. A crimson band of cloth covers the ruin of his sockets, hiding the shame from the world; his memories of receiving basic medical care from a civilian village are fogged by the fever that ravaged him during those days.
Ever since then, he's wandered. Slowly learning to survive, slowly adapting, he now moves with some trace of his old grace and confidence, as though he has some perception of the world beyond the reach of his hands. The snakes have taught him, and experience, the slow and bitter sensei, has taught him.
But he will never again be what he once was.
He's entering another village, he knows that; where it is, what its name is, he doesn't know. Doesn't entirely care. Perhaps they'll feed him, perhaps he can trade some manual labor for a few coins, and then move on again. That's all he can hope for anymore.
Ever since the traumatic day when everything was taken from him, he's been a wanderer. Nothing more, nothing less. A shinobi? Only in the barest terms. A crimson band of cloth covers the ruin of his sockets, hiding the shame from the world; his memories of receiving basic medical care from a civilian village are fogged by the fever that ravaged him during those days.
Ever since then, he's wandered. Slowly learning to survive, slowly adapting, he now moves with some trace of his old grace and confidence, as though he has some perception of the world beyond the reach of his hands. The snakes have taught him, and experience, the slow and bitter sensei, has taught him.
But he will never again be what he once was.
He's entering another village, he knows that; where it is, what its name is, he doesn't know. Doesn't entirely care. Perhaps they'll feed him, perhaps he can trade some manual labor for a few coins, and then move on again. That's all he can hope for anymore.
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That hand upon his small back did little to stop the sniffling. He was oh so bravely trying to not cry at the overwhelmingly strange, alien feeling in his little chest.
He tried to speak, but when just a broken whimper got out, he gave up on the attempt. Whatever words he may have been able to form at the moment might have been worse than silence. For now, he hugged his future self a fraction tighter as his body trembled.
What he had here... in his hands... was the future...
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Finally, though, his stomach growled, reminding him how long it had been since he'd eaten. He would need to find some kind of food... and some way to pay for it.
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"If there is something that needs doing, I can still work in exchange for food," he added. No charity, no pity, should be spent on him. He was not disabled, not helpless. Just... blind.
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Insane, he decided to himself. I've gone insane. Perhaps he was still wandering in the wilderness somewhere, his fever unchecked, hallucinating as he died by degrees.
If so, then what difference did anything make? It wasn't as though anyone cared about him anymore. He might as well go along with the hallucination until it faded.
That said, though, he still had his pride. "I don't want to rely on anyone's generosity," he said simply. "I'm old enough to take care of myself."
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"Maybe," he allowed quietly, dipping his head. "If we can be undisturbed." The child was one thing, but others... no. He didn't want to be surrounded by strange other-versions of the people he knew and had left behind or lost.
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"I'll wait at the training field," he said quietly, "if it isn't currently in use." It would be preferable to being trapped in the house.
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"If you're me, I know what you like, so don't worry about it~ If there's anythin that can make eeeeverythin better, it's a stomach full of things y'like~" no, there was no taking his intense positive attitude down.
The training field was thankfully empty when they neared it. "Awesome, I won't have to pull anything on anyone, no one else's here. Want me t'find you some shade to wait in? There's lotsa trees to th'west~"
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Knowing the things he liked... yes, it was true, his tastes had changed little from that age, he decided. So he would accept the child's attentions
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And so, as fast as his little feet could carry him, he rushed home, to the kitchen! He took the stool towads the sink and washed his hands before setting some rice to cook and preparing the okaka which he learned to do rather well thanks to watching when kaasan and niisan made it, along with tomato slices as the rice finished its cooking. The riceballs were ready, and although not looking perfectly professional, they would be edible and yummy!
He made sure to wrap nori all around it and secure it by patting it just a little.
After that, he took all of his foodstuffs to that training ground, grinning happily.
He looked around for his older self and, a soon as he spotted him, called out. "I'm back~" and ran even faster -how is that possible!- to hold the plate up where he could reach. "I got you omusubi! And there's tomato slices too~"
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That innocent eagerness to be helpful, to please... he could remember being like that, and the memories soured him. That innocence only existed to be shattered, mangled, destroyed.
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Indeed, he still ignored much, and had never lived any nightmare, possibly so innocent it would sicken some.