Zaman

Chapter 27

Sasuke all but held his breath as he stood face-to-face with the masked man before him. Something in the back of his mind suggested familiarity, but with the time between his abduction and the present moment so hazy in his memory, he could summon no concrete details.

Sasuke straightened his back, tipping his head upwards to look the man in the eyes–or singular eye.

"What do you want from me?" He knew his words were brazen for his position–he could sense an incredibly strong chakra from the man in front of him, after all–but if the man really wanted Sasuke dead, he would have already succeeded. The man clearly wanted something from him.

The man before him chuckled: a humorless, breathy sound. "I can assure you that I will be offering you far more than you can give to me," he said, and Sasuke imagined that his mouth, though obscured by a mask, curled into a wry smile.

Bristling with frustration from being given such a non-answer, Sasuke continued to push.

"Who even are you?" he demanded, bringing his sharingan just to the point of activation.

Without as much as a warning, a sickening pain lanced through his head, forcing him to his knees. He could feel the familiar tug on his chakra system of a genjutsu, but he could not break free of it, the illusion taking complete hold over his mind. The man wasted no time planting images in Sasuke's mind, focusing only on the intense sensation of pain–pain so debilitating that Sasuke could not begin to conceptualize the sensation. Everything around him faded from existence, hurt his only reality; time ceased to exist as well, leaving nothing but a fresh hell.

As suddenly as it began, the pain disappeared, and Sasuke found himself curled in a fetal position on the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around his head. Slowly, he untangled his limbs, trying to ignore how they shook with the effort.

The masked man offered him a hand to help him to his feet. Sasuke hesitated before taking it, blanching at the sudden change in demeanor, but feared angering the man enough that he complied and took the hand. Once Sasuke was standing, though he had to lean heavily on the door frame, the masked man began to speak again.

"You shouldn't talk to the founder of your clan like that," the man said, perfectly nonchalant.

Sasuke's eyes immediately narrowed in disbelief.

"And you're going to have to learn how to mask your emotions better than that." The man placed his hands on his hips in an incredibly uncharacteristic movement. "You're a shinobi. You can't let everyone know exactly what you're thinking just by looking at your face."

"Who are you?" Sasuke asked again, his voice barely above a whisper. To be the founder of the Uchiha would imply that the man before Sasuke was Madara Uchiha and as powerful as he seemed, Madara Uchiha was dead. So much of the Uchiha's existence depended on that fact.

"Come on, you're a smart boy," the man who definitely could not be Madara Uchiha said. "I am Madara Uchiha and your several-times-great-grandfather."

"But you–"

"But I died," he mocked, and Sasuke could imagine a toothy grin. "Clearly, I did not. You'll understand why in due time."

Sasuke unconsciously took a step back. He could not help but feel as if a rug had been pulled from under him; just the previous day, he had been happy. A rogue shinobi, perhaps, but surrounded by his family: Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi, and finally, Itachi. For the first time since that terrible day seven years ago, Sasuke had felt as if he belonged; the suffocating burn of hatred in his chest had eased, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake. But now he was alone again–alone and dreadfully confused.