Chapter 2

A single tomoe lazily spun over a red canvas in each of my eyes. I swallowed hard. I could feel the energy from within my body feeding chakra to my sharingan like a dull hum. It was odd, the sensation of chakra; how does one explain this feeling of a new internal energy? Chakra, the blending of one's spiritual and mental energies, could be cultivated and used to perform superhuman feats of strength. It had been some time since I had watched the series, but I remembered that it had been the Sage of Six Paths who had spread the use of chakra throughout the world. In the show, one developed as a shinobi through their use of chakra and the performance of jutsu. The show had only given vague details on how one actually summons chakra, but Sasuke's own memories supplemented where my shoddy recollection of the show failed.

I knew how to gather chakra. I could remember performing the leaf exercise and how to cause a leaf to stick to my forehead with nothing more than the spiritual energy within my young body. It felt different than I would have imagined based upon watching the anime. It was less a sense of forceful summoning and, not to be crass, more like relaxing your muscles to take a piss. I grimaced at the vulgar explanation of such a delicate art, but it was the closest approximation of the feeling that I could offer.

I consciously forced the chakra that was being fed to my eyes to cease and they faded to a dull black. I felt sad. There was a heady feeling attached to the sharingan. Everything felt sharper and I could literally feel strength flow through my body as I had activated it. Noticeably, the activation and deactivation of the sharingan seemed tied to my emotions. The flow and ebb of chakra could be heavily affected by the emotions of the shinobi and with the mere thought of Itachi, I could feel my chakra spike towards my eyes.

Anger. Rage. Hate. With the memories of my former life, I knew the truth of the massacre; however, it was the memories of my new self that made the grief real. This was not merely some fictional story. This was real life and everything that had happened to Sasuk-to me- mattered. I remember my aunt and uncle's encouraging words. I remember eating my mother's cooking. Oh the ache in my heart felt so real. I was both my former self and Sasuke Uchiha. The metaphysical implications of this were astounding, but at this moment all I could feel was grief and rage.

Even knowing the truth of why Itachi massacred the clan, it did not change the fact that he had still murdered innocents. He had still taken the lives of countless civilians, children too young to make a conscious choice in the matter, and for that, I hated him. I could delve into the ethics of it all. Child soldiers. Utilitarian calculus. The responsibility to family versus responsibility to village. All of these things could be considered in an intellectual void, but my love for such exploration felt pointless here. People were dead. Innocents were dead. My family was dead. And my brother, whatever his reasons, had killed them.

Vengeance called to me. I could feel it like an ache in my bones. There was desire, foolish desire, to march into the Hokage’s office and slay the old man where he sat; then I would hunt down Danzo and pluck his eyes from his body before feeding him to the ravens. I could feel my heart beat faster. I would hunt down Obito Uchiha and force him to watch Rin die over and over again just so he could understand a measure of my pain. And finally, oh and it would hurt him so, I would slit my own throat before Itachi showing him how pointless his actions had been. The lure of vengeance called to me and I stared into the mirror as my hands gripped the porcelain sink tightly. Red eyes once more spun in the mirror.

But no. I stared at the mirror and loosened my grip, my sharingan fading again. I took a deep breath. Oh it was a temptress, but I felt the pain subside. Vengeance is not justice. I knew where that path led. The anime itself had shown it to me even if the history of my former world had not.

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” I quoted under my breath. A smirk crossed my face. An apt quote considering my kekkai genkai. Still, I was one of the few with the potential to bring my brother to justice. The thought gave me pause. Would I become a shinobi? Technically, there was nothing stopping me from simply living out my days on what I assumed would be my inheritance. Marry a nice girl. Maybe even spend my days writing and developing the intellect of this world.

The memory of a moon suddenly flashed across my mind and I sighed. I slowly made my way back to my bed. I was the incarnation of Indra Ōtsutsuki, if the anime was still be to trusted. Which meant that Naruto and myself were the only two in this world with the potential to face Kaguya and save everyone. Were I to reject the path of the shinobi, I would be dooming Naruto to walk that path alone. Another memory crossed my mind of a character in red and blue spandex emblazoned with the symbol of a spider, “with great power comes great responsibility.”

A simplistic, yet powerful axiom, regarding the nature of justice. Dismantled to its base elements, justice could, in my opinion, be dismantled to the ideal of that which individuals owe to one another and to themselves. Deriving from that ideal, though built upon numerous other axioms, one could make the case that the more capacity that one has, the more they owe to society and fellow individuals.

I had the potential to save the world. It would be…unjust to deny that potential and likely doom thousands to death merely for a life of peace and comfort. I sighed and rested my head against the cold pillow with my hands underneath. I could hear the sound of birds chirping and the glow of the sun indicated that it was early morning. A nurse would likely be by soon and I would have to interact with others. That would be difficult, but far less so than it could have been considering what had happened. Immediately after the massacre, and at this thought I felt a pang of sharp grief, was perhaps the best time I could have…what was the word all those isekai used? Transmigrated. Yes, that was the word.

It would make sense for Sasuke to have undergone a personality change. I could remain silent and aloof as I grieved and, over time, people would expect my odder traits to merely be the result of trauma. I paused. Damn that was such a cliche thought. Probably written in a hundred such isekai stories. Meh. The logic is sound. My thoughts wondered over the next hour ranging from bouts of grief to random tangents, but my thoughts were broken as I heard the sound of the door open. I swallowed and slowly raised my self up.

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A man in a medic uniform moved the curtain and his eyes widened as he saw that I was awake.

"Ah, you're awake. I'll...get the Hokage."

I silently stared at the man and he turned, hurriedly making his way out of the room. One boon at least, they spoke English. At least I would not have to worry about learning another language. Though a doctorate in philosophy required study in foreign languages, my studies had focused more on Russian and German authors, I did not know Japanese. It would have been quite a pain having to fake being a mute or something until I picked up the language.

I scooted my back up against the wall and waited. Thoughts ran through my mind about how to approach this. Logically, I should tell the Third Hokage everything. I had a great deal of knowledge about the future and that knowledge could be used to avoid some of the more tragic aspects of the series. And yet....yet I found that I could not share such with him. More and more it became clear that I was not just my former self. I was Sasuke Uchiha. And with the knowledge of the massacre, the thought of Hiruzen Sarutobi dying at the hands of Orochimaru brought the barest hint of a smile to my face. I would not blame Konoha. I would not blame the innocents in this village, but Hiruzen Sarutobi's weakness had lead to the death of my family. If not for his weakness, my family would still be alive.

No. It would not be the Third Hokage to whom I shared such knowledge if I ever shared it with anyone.

It was not long before the door opened once again and I met the God of the Shinobi for the first time. The first thing I noticed was the steel in his eyes; it was obvious that the man was tired and age had worn down his face. Liver spots and wrinkles might convince someone unaware that Hiruzen Sarutobi was simply a decrepit old man, but it was his eyes...his eyes were sharp and they seemed to pierce me like a blade. I thought for a moment everything about myself was laid bare and he could see into my very soul, knowing that I was a being from another world.

But then I saw the compassion in his eyes. There was sadness there and grief from a life marred by war. Despite my hatred for the man, I felt some measure of empathy for the Third Hokage. This was a man forced to spend his years watching over a village when he should have been retired, leaving the leadership to the Fourth Hokage. I did not know if I could ever trust Sarutobi, but I felt a small measure of my hatred for the man diminish. It was Obito who was to blame.

"Sasuke," his voice was like old parchment unfurling in a long abandoned library. Crisp and dusty, but there was kindness there, "Do you remember what happened?"

I slowly nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Sarutobi seemed to sense my reticence to speak and merely took a seat beside my bed. The chair creaked beneath his weight and the smell of antiseptic still hung in the air. Despite the weight of moment, my stomach growled and I noticed the barest twitch of the Hokage's lips. I found that I could not measure the strength to be embarrassed as the Hokage raised his hands and twitched his fingers. I found myself surprised as an ANBU appeared at the Hokage's side in the blink of an eye. It was one thing to obsere such in a show, but seeing the speed in reality was something else entirely.

"Frog, please have one of the medic's bring breakfast for young Sasuke," the ANBU gave the barest hint of a nod and disappeared in a swirl of leaves. Perhaps it should not be, considering my possession of Sasuke's memories, but I felt myself shocked at the display of jutsu. To see such superhuman abilities...and more would be coming. I swallowed.

"You're safe here, Sasuke," Hiruzen offered softly and I turned my eyes towards him. Was I truly? If I shared I knew the truth of the massacre would he lock me up? Murder me? For all that Hiruzen had made a promise to Itachi to protect me, his first responsibility was to the Village Hidden in the Leaves. And I did not blame him for that at least. I had no ill will towards this village. It would be my home. I finally forced myself to speak, asking a question I knew the answer to but needed to ask all the same.

"Did anyone survive?" My voice was soft, still that of a child, but it seemed to hang in the air and Hiruzen's face seemed to age even further. The dour expression upon his face confirmed what I already knew. And despite everything, I began to cry. Everyone. My clan. My family. Gone. Once the tears started they did not end. It was not just the massacre. It was everything I had lost. My home. My mom. A career that I loved. Friends and colleagues who I would enjoy a late night pint with. Hell, I even cried for the lack of fucking McDonalds. The tears just kept flowing.

I felt the Hokage's aged hand upon my shoulder and all I wanted to do was scream at him that it was his fault. To shout his weakness to the world, but I found that I could not. I could say that it was not wise and that is what stopped me, but in reality the grief was just far too strong. So much lost. I had died and lost everything. And now, I was truly alone. The loneliness of it was suffocating. Lost. I did not feel like a professor approaching his thirties. I felt like the form I currently wore. I was an eight year old boy lost in the universe.

My sobs began to subside after a few minutes and I found my mind clear. Perhaps numb was the better word, but I felt capable of coherent thought, "So...what happens now?"

"For now, you rest," Hiruzen offered with a strong voice that seemed to brook no disagreement, "I will make certain that everything is taken care of. You do not have to worry about anything. We can make decisions later, but for now, Sasuke, know you are safe and Konoha will take care of you."

I nodded slowly. There really wasn't much more to be said.