Penthesilea

Chapter Three

Chapter Beta: Sakura's Unicorn

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戦国時代

Sasuke is constantly exhausted and yet, sleep eludes him every night.

For months, he occupies himself with battle strategy in the bleak, restless hours before dawn. He runs numbers in his head and tries to outthink the plans of his rival. Uzumaki is a bit of an idiot, but Nara Shikamaru is at his side, and the shadow manipulator is known to be a genius. Itachi could keep up with his ploys with ease, but Sasuke struggles. He's not an anticipatory thinker, preferring to react to problems as they present themselves. That kind of approach is fine when it's only himself, but with so many lives dependant on him now, he can't rely on such personal tactics.

As time goes on, however, Sasuke's ruminations change in a bothersome way. Offensive strategies and possible promotions give way to imaginings of brilliant green eyes and a mouth curved into an impish smile. This, more than battle tactics, keeps him awake at night, and he hates himself for being so weak and fallible as to be distracted by a woman of all things.

There's little point in spending hours staring at the canvas ceiling of his tent, and so most nights, he will get up and walk. It's a simple thing to slip away from the constant din of the army camp and into the forest, far enough away that he can't hear people. It is easier to pretend...something. He isn't sure what.

Tonight, Sasuke sits at the base of a large oak, staring up into the sky at the giant moon hovering above the tree line. He wonders if there are people there and if they, too, are embroiled in an endless battle.

He begins to understand why Itachi always yearns for silence.

"Do you know the story of how this war got started?"

Sasuke's muscles tense, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, but as he touches it, the voice registers and he pauses.

"There are few people who can sneak up on me," he points out, refraining from turning to her. However, out of the corner of his eye, he can see her ensconced in the branches of the tree, eyes on the moon, legs swinging idly back and forth.

Sakura, he thinks, as if remembering it for the first time, even though her name has been burned into his brain since he learned it.

"My perfect chakra control has allowed me to mask my presence since I was twelve," she states matter-of-factly. It's not a boast or a challenge or even said to impress him—just an answer to an unspoken question.

"That would be a useful skill for a spy," he remarks.

"Yes, it would."

"Is that why we've never seen you before?"

"Among other things," she replies, a bit of a teasing note in her voice. "So, do you know it?"

"Do I know what?"

"How all this started."

She's avoiding the question, but he allows it for now, if only to spend time getting a clearer picture of this woman. "I do."

The stories were told to him in his cradle, passed down by grandparents, parents, aunts, and uncles. No Uchiha is brought into this world without knowing the story of Indra and Asura—the two brothers who were the progenitors of the Uchiha and the Senju, and the stolen birthright which started everything.

"The Senju have been selfish opportunists from the beginning," he goes on. "They take what does not belong to them—credit, power, control—and then blame others for their failures."