Chapter Text
Seventeen-year old Uchiha Sasuke woke up feeling like an avalanche was falling on his head, pummeling his body and punching the air from his lungs.
He wheezed, and his chest inflated with a cool rush of air, but alongside the oxygen came pain. Everything hurt.
Yet Sasuke shoved it down. Someone had attacked him, and what a fool to let him live. Chakra surged in Sasuke's Sharingan eyes, and they snapped open—
A boy gaped down at him, wide-eyed, pale. Sasuke stared. Spiky raven hair, a high collar, blue t-shirt cladding his lean body, and a Konoha headband tied under his bangs. Yet it was the boy’s eyes, shaped like his mother’s, that made Sasuke’s teeth clench. Itachi’s eyes…Sasuke’s eyes…who dared…
A lesser man would have been dumbfounded at the sight of their twelve-year old self. But Sasuke knew better, so he whisked out a shuriken and flung it at the imposter’s throat.
To his shock, the weapon flew wildly off target and struck the wall behind the preteen. The boy flinched at the thunk! And some awareness returned to his wide eyes. Yet Sasuke hardly noticed as he fixated on the wall.
A bamboo banner, painted with the Uchiha clan symbol, hung by the door, its edges fraying with the red dye almost fading to pink, while the white was nearly invisible. It looked old—six years old instead of a decade old and dusty like it should be if this was truly Sasuke’s original home…and would an enemy really be so meticulous as to repaint an old banner to look four years younger than it was?
Sasuke tensed, heart speeding up while he glanced around—blue sheets, white pillow on the bed, plain design like he preferred—the television outdated by a decade since he didn’t use it enough to bother replacing it—scuff marks under the sofa chair legs because he’d been too small and weak to lift it when he first moved it into this room… This…this was his bedroom in the Uchiha district. And his Sharingan ensured this was no genjutsu…so what was this!?
Sasuke shot to his feet in a blur, looming over the preteen with his Mangekyō eyes flaring scarlet and a demand on his tongue.
“I’m y-you.”
Sasuke froze, stunned by the absurdity the boy uttered.
The boy swallowed, but gaining some confidence from the lack of immediate retaliation, he continued in a steadier voice. “I found a scroll containing a time-space jutsu that allows the caster to temporarily summon their future self to the past.”
His face darkened, all the youthful innocence draining from his expression until only burning hatred remained.
“I brought you here to teach me how to kill Itachi.”
Sasuke’s fingers curled into white-knuckled fists, nails biting his palms hard enough to draw blood. The imposter, noticing, wisely stepped back.
Yet Sasuke swiftly gripped his sword handle, thoughts of Itachi—his lips curving into a bloody smile before the life faded from his eyes—searing through his head. How dare this imposter bring up his brother, he would die—
A black seal on the floor smoldered, right under the boy’s feet. Sasuke’s grip slackened on his sword. An identical red seal was circling his own black sandals, steam rising from the strange symbols and kanji inked on the floor as if the seal had recently been set ablaze or activated.
Sasuke slowly looked up, examining the boy more closely. The preteen was paler than normal, sweat dripping down his face—chakra exhaustion.
The boy gazed back, though his eyes kept shifting like he was self-conscious. Or, more likely, the preteen was buckling under the weight of Sasuke’s killing intent. So, Sasuke reined it in.
Then he glared at his potential—very tentative potential—younger self, and he hissed, “Tell me everything.” He was ready to rip the truth out of the boy’s head if he didn’t reply immediately.
Yet the younger boy seemed more awed than intimidated by the Sharingan locked onto him. Sasuke growled warningly, and the preteen jolted out of his daze, a bit of pink dusting his cheeks—what a child.
“My genin—our genin team.” Sasuke’s face hardened at the correction. “Returned from a mission to the Land of Waves a couple of days ago. While I was there, I found and bought a scroll with the Uchiha clan emblem, assuming it was authentic.”
Sasuke raked his brain for a memory that corresponded with the boy’s claim and was shocked to find one. It was vague and forgotten until now, likely because of how inconsequential that moment had been. Sasuke was just browsing a weapons shop, having run low on shuriken after his team fought Zabuza. Yet he stopped dead at spotting an uchiwa printed on a dusty scroll sitting on a shelf. Back then, Sasuke had been committed to preserving even the tiniest remnant of his clan’s heritage, so he bought the scroll, all the while wondering how an Uchiha relic ended up so far from Konoha.
“I forgot about the scroll until I was unpacking today.”
The preteen gestured towards the deflated backpack beside his balcony door. Something cracked in Sasuke’s head at the sight of Konoha’s colorful skyline in the distance—the ones who murdered his clan were here.
“I decided to test it out now, but..." The boy’s face scrunched, and he shook his head. "I didn’t actually think it would work...” He risked a peek at his Mangekyō Sharingan before snapping his eyes back in a poor attempt to mask his curiosity. Had he truly been so easy to read at this age?
Sasuke brushed aside the thought and refocused on the grainy memory. He’d inked down the seals, got on his knees, and fed heaps of chakra to activate the Uchiha scroll. Over and over again, he tried until he was almost empty of all chakra.
It hadn’t worked. Sasuke nearly passed out from exhaustion, yet the scroll hadn’t so much as sparked. However, the boy before him did the same, and the scroll did work. So, was this some sort of alternate timeline—wait. The scroll…the bolded inscription beneath the instructions...
When Eyes turned to the past, join Eyes turned to the future, only then can Destiny be made manifest.
Sasuke’s brow furrowed, several more memories seeping through. He’d gone to the clan archives…cross-referenced Eyes with other texts and quickly understood Eyes alluded to the Sharingan, but he never could parse the rest of the inscription. Though now that the scroll had worked, there was a growing hypothesis for why it worked in the back of his head. Yet the how didn't really matter, did it? Fact was, the jutsu worked, meaning this really was the past before he left Konoha, before he fought Naruto, before he killed Itachi—
Sasuke stopped. Desperate, ravenous longing pierced his chest. Itachi was alive. Nii-san was alive. He could save him.
“—you had to have already defeated him by now.”
Sasuke refocused just as his younger self’s expression warped into something cruel, almost feral.
“So you can teach me how to kill Itachi," the boy's voice darkened with a bitter anticipation, "And I can finally restore my clan.”
Sasuke stared at him. A speck of red smoldered in the boy’s irises, his hate so profound it was triggering his Sharingan. Sasuke’s past self was…was happy at the thought of murdering his beloved brother.
Sasuke suddenly had the wild thought of stabbing the child through the lungs. Because Nii-san had suffered and died for Sasuke. Just minutes ago, his brother vanished before him, sacrificing himself to end the Edo Tensei and leaving Sasuke hollower than ever. Now, Sasuke was here longing to save his older brother, while his younger self smiled at the thought of committing fratricide.
A snicker escaped Sasuke’s lips. His past self started, the vengeful expression wiping clean from his face. And his eyes went huge as Sasuke laughed, his shoulders shaking until he was cackling to the heavens.
Sasuke tried calming down, but then he saw how disturbed the boy looked, and he just laughed harder. Did the child think him insane? How funny! Considering the preteen was just as mad, because even when they'd hated Itachi, they still loved him too.
“I will love you always.”
Phantom fingers pressed against Sasuke’s temples, pressing harder and harder until they imprinted on his skull. His laughter became wheezing that hissed through his clenched teeth. The preteen looked scared, but he shouldn’t be since everything was alright now.
Sasuke’s laughter stopped, the abruptness probably scaring his younger self further. Yet Sasuke didn’t care because Itachi wasn’t dead. Right now, his brother was alive and—Sasuke could see him. He could reach out, grab hold of Nii-san, and his skin wouldn’t be cold and waxy like when Itachi’s corpse lied on the gurney in Madara’s hideout.
Sasuke would never forget walking into that room and seeing Itachi’s body on the table. He’d pressed his ear against Itachi's chest, inhaling the iron scent of his blood, and begged to hear a heartbeat that wouldn't come. He spoke to Itachi, rough whispering at first, but his voice got louder and louder every time Itachi remained silent until Sasuke was screaming. He screamed and screamed and beat his fists on the gurney because he was sorry, so sorry. Please, forgive me, Nii-san! He cried into Itachi’s shirt, grabbing his brother’s bloody hand and laying it over his forehead.
He waited for the teasing poke. He waited and waited—
It never came. It never would.
Sasuke dropped Itachi’s hand and sank to knees, whispering, “Please, Nii-san…please…”
“—it’s the truth!” his past self shouted in his face.
Sasuke blinked while recalling where he was.
“This is the past, and I am you,” he asserted, a wild, desperate look in his gaze—oh. The boy thought Sasuke laughed because he didn’t believe him.
”I can prove—“
Sasuke scowled, hand slicing through the air. “I believe you.”
The boy was taken aback, his expression pinched like he was trying to figure out what else could have caused Sasuke's laughing fit.
Sasuke ignored him as he closed his eyes and opened them to reveal their normal ebony tone. Then he turned to the balcony, peering out past the rooftops to the village border. Nii-san…
His past self shook off his shock and began, “So you’ll train me—“
“No.”
The child gaped. “W-what?” He blinked rapidly, disbelief stark on his face.
“I have better things to do.” Sasuke glared back at his past self, letting him know he was serious.
The boy looked stunned. Then his face warped with rage.
“What do you mean!?” The boy got into Sasuke’s face, teeth bared and eyes wild. “There’s nothing more important than killing Itach—“
“I’m not asking for your permission.” Sasuke stared him down coldly, killing intent flaring.
The boy gasped, flinching back. Yet Sasuke didn’t relent. Itachi was out there, somewhere, suffering for his sake. He couldn’t stay here.
“I’m leaving.”
Sasuke strode towards the balcony, ending his killing intent. He brushed past the child, but the boy was frozen, sweat peppering his face as he still grappled with the effects of Sasuke's killing intent.
Sasuke couldn’t care less if he stayed that way all night while he pulled open the balcony door, stepped out, and bit his thumb.
"Hey!"
Sasuke’s hands flew through several signs before he slammed his palm on the floor. Smoke burst around him, and Garuda emerged from it, cawing loudly while he stretched out his expansive wings until they blanketed the whole balcony.
His younger self gasped, yet Sasuke didn’t turn around while he flipped onto Garuda‘s back, and said, "Let's go."
Garuda didn't hesitate to raise his wings, and Sasuke’s hair rippled in the wind as his hawk took off into the hazy orange sky.
“Stop! You can’t—“
Sasuke twitched, gaze shooting down as he felt a tugging sensation around his midsection. His brow furrowed when the tugging intensified like a rubber band in his gut being stretched too thin. What—
A force slammed into his stomach. Sasuke grunted as he slid back, one foot slipping off Garuda. He swiftly tried regaining his balance when the strange pull seemed to wrap around his waist, and with a mighty tug—
He was torn off Garuda and falling.
Sasuke’s eyes widened, tumbling through the air while his summon screeched in alarm. He glimpsed Garuda swerving and diving after him, but Sasuke knew it would be too late as the balcony neared at a terrifying speed.
So Sasuke spun back and crossed his arms over his face moments before he crashed through the balcony door. It shattered under his back, showering the room in glass shards while he hit the floor and rolled straight into the bed.
His head cracked against the wood, and he choked on a cry, already feeling the bruises screaming up his back and the burning scratches where glass shards bit through his clothes.
Then the world blinked to black, and he must have passed out for a moment because when he opened his eyes, he was sprawled on the floor. His younger self was crouched over him, expression fearful.
“A-are you okay?”
Sasuke reached up and gingerly felt around his head. He took his hand back, bringing it before his face…no blood. So, he grunted, “I'm fine.”
He sat up, and his hawk summon was trilling worriedly behind the preteen, glass door so decimated that Garuda was halfway in the room.
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “What was that? What pulled me down?”
An odd mix of concern and irritation flashed across the twelve-year old’s face. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” He huffed, yet crossed his arms and looked away—nervous. “The scroll tethers the future self to their past self, which means you can't travel too far away from me or…" He glanced at the shattered door. "You get pulled back."
Sasuke stared expressionlessly at the preteen. The boy shrank as Sasuke hissed, “Are there any other conditions I should know about?”
His teeth clenched because there was no way he could drag his twelve-year old self out of Konoha and find Itachi without getting the boy killed…so he was stuck here…stuck in the accursed Village that murdered his family, looked down on his clansmen, and played him for a fool.
Wrath pulsed in his veins, so he was surprised when a similar anger flashed across the preteen’s face.
“Since you won’t train me,” he spat, glaring, and Sasuke wanted to laugh at the intimidation attempt. “I would prefer to send you back, but...” He bit the inside of his cheek, looking away petulantly. “The jutsu is supposed to cancel itself after a certain time, and I don’t know when that time is...”
Sasuke thought over his words for a second. Then his lips pulled back in a snarl. “Give me one reason not to punch you.”
The boy balked, yet abruptly turned smug. “The scroll has a built-in clause that prevents the future self from harming his past self.” Sasuke’s eyes widened. “A safety measure to protect the flow of time.”
The teen quickly recalled his shuriken flying into the wall, though he’d aimed for the boy's throat. It was true then.
Vexation twinged in his chest, but he bit it down. “Okay," he growled, and his younger self flinched. "In that case, we need Kakashi’s help.”
He got to his feet, shaking off the glass sticking to his clothes and carefully stepping around the shards to reach Garuda. Sasuke stroked the hawk’s side reassuringly before he dismissed the summon with a wave of his hand.
“Why Kakashi?” The preteen’s face wrinkled, confused.
Sasuke arched a brow, like he couldn't comprehend the boy's stupidity, and his younger self scowled. “Because he knows more about seals than either of us, and I’m certain he’d have questions if you showed up at tomorrow’s practice with an older version of yourself.”
The boy blinked, having not thought about that, just like he never considered what he would do if his older self refused to train him. Was Sasuke really so single-minded back then? It hurt internally admitting he was still rather single-minded.
“How?”
Sasuke raised his head. Dawning horror crawled up the boy’s face.
“How did you get those eyes?”
Sasuke’s lips parted, stunned by the twelve-year old's boldness. Yet his silence seemed answer enough because the boy paled, voice wavering with dread. “Did…did you kill your best friend?”
Sasuke hesitated, considering lying, but ultimately, he said, “No. I didn’t kill Naruto.”
The boy’s eyes widened, shocked by his easy admittance of Naruto being his closest friend. Though soon he slumped, relieved.
However, the teen’s face went blank. “I killed the person I love more than anything.”
The boy choked, shock and horror seizing his chest. Yet already his older self was heading out the door. “Let’s go.”
The younger Sasuke didn’t hear him, remaining frozen in the room. He…he was going to kill someone—murder someone, all so he could awaken his Mangekyō Sharingan. For his own personal, selfish gain, Sasuke would get close to someone, so close the teen said he loved them, and yet, he would kill them anyway…
“Come on,” the older boy called, mild irritation breaching his impassive face, and finally, the boy numbly trailed him into the hall.
They headed down the stairs, the twelve-year old too dazed to notice his future self watching him from the corner of his eye, a faint smirk tilting his lips. His plan was already working.
Because, for all that Itachi's lies and Orochimaru's manipulations had guided Sasuke towards vengeance, it had been Madara's truth about the massacre that stirred Sasuke's feelings like no other. So Sasuke would be honest with his past self, allow the preteen to make his own conclusions, and if some of those conclusions were wrong… Well, it might make it easier to steer the boy off the path of vengeance and set him on the road Sasuke should have taken from the very beginning.