☆ wage war on gravity ☆

Sasuke runs faster than he’s run in his entire life.

The soles of his shoes slap loudly against the stone floor, the sound bouncing and ricocheting off the walls of the narrow corridor. There’s a sharp, stabbing pain in his side, in the space between his ribs, but he ignores it and pushes forward despite the lack of oxygen he’s managing to pull through his lungs. Despite his pounding heart, a part of it still screaming at him to turn around and go back.

Back to where Kakashi is fighting—his extreme skill and experience rendered practically useless against the likes of Obito Uchiha. There’s no way Kakashi can hope to best him, not without Sasuke to back him up.

He's going to die.

Sasuke bites the inside of his mouth, hard enough to taste blood. He wishes, just for this moment, that he could go back to when he was seventeen—back to when he didn’t care about anyone except his brother. It would be easier, that way. It would hurt so much less.

Sasuke owes Kakashi so much—for everything he’s done for him. But Sasuke has always been selfish, and so once again, he chooses Itachi. He’s always chosen Itachi over everyone else, even when Itachi hasn’t chosen him.

I’m sorry, Sasuke thinks. And prays, by some miracle, that his sensei survives.

He forces the guilt away—shoves it somewhere deep down in his chest where it can no longer influence thoughts and decisions. Instead he focuses on the desperate pull in his chest that is somehow guiding him. The one that’s blaring his brother’s name at him like a siren—

Itachi, Itachi, Itachi, Itachi—

Something has happened. Itachi is hurt somewhere, is dying, and Sasuke can’t explain how he knows this but right now he doesn’t care. All that matters is reaching him.

Sasuke refuses to lose him again. He can’t.

He skids sharply around the corner as he reaches the end of the hallway. He catches a flash of blonde hair and blue eyes widening, but he’s running too fast to stop himself in time—he collides with the person in front of him, a brutal smack followed by a surprised yelp, and both of them are knocked to the floor.

Sasuke catches himself on his elbows, wincing as the impact reverberates through his entire body. He blinks his vision clear.

Deidara is on the ground across from him, also blinking and grimacing in pain. “Ow! What the hell, man? Watch where you’re going!” He glances down at his arm, which got scraped up by the fall and is now bleeding sluggishly. He looks back up at Sasuke with a glare. “Look what you did!”

He shoves his bleeding elbow into Sasuke’s face. Sasuke shoves it away. “Where’s Itachi?” he demands.

The other Akatsuki member scowls at him. “'I’m so sorry, Deidara, for knocking you over. Are you alri—‘”

“Just tell me where he is! The two of you went off together to find Konan!”

“Yeah, and we split off from each other! Like I want to spend anymore time than necessary with that asshole! Seriously, what the hell—”

With a scowl, Sasuke pushes himself to his feet. He ignores the new soreness throughout his body. “Which direction did he go in?”

Deidara looks ready to snap at him again, but he looks at him and something on Sasuke’s face must give away the seriousness of the situation. The indignation flickers, replaced by uncertainty and concern.

“Why? What's happened?”

“I don’t know, but he’s hurt—badly, I think.”

Deidara pushes himself off the floor, wincing slightly and brushing off his black and red cloak. “How do you know?”

“I just do. Which direction?”

Deidara looks unhappy with that answer. Most likely he assumes Sasuke is lying and not wanting to explain, rather than the truth that he genuinely has no idea how he knows. He just does. But Deidara presses his lips into a thin line and nods.

“Alright. Come on, this way. We’ll find him.”

They turn around and begin going in the direction that Deidara just came from. They don’t run, like Sasuke was earlier, and Sasuke has to bite down on the desperation that makes him want to snap at the other man to hurry the fuck up. But they’re walking at a quick, urgent pace, Deidara’s longer legs causing his paces to be bigger than Sasuke’s. Sasuke is forced into something near to a jog.

“What happened to you?” Deidara asks.

Sasuke frowns. “What?”

“Your clothes—they’re ripped. They weren’t before, so it’s not from fighting with Sasori. Did you fight someone else?”

Observant of him. Sasuke clenches his jaw. “Obito knows.”

Deidara’s mouth drops open, panic in his eyes as he jerks to a halt. “What? Oh fuck—”

“Which is why we need to find my brother now! Okay? Because Obito knows he’s a traitor—he knows you are, too—”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. This is all your fault, Uchiha. You’ve dragged me into your shit—"

“Me? You’re the one that attacked Hidan!”

“You killed him!”

“Because of you—!”

Sasuke cuts himself off as they round the corner. His breath leaves him, a sharp, choked gasp sucked through his teeth. His feet come to an abrupt halt as the blood in his veins turns to ice.

Beside him, Deidara freezes as well. Eyes wide. “Shit. Is that…?”

Deidara’s eyes are locked in the center of the room, where a broken, misshapen shape is barely visible in the dark. It’s Kakuzu, his body so shredded and disfigured that he’s barely recognizable. A bloody heap of flesh, surrounded by scorch marks and discarded weapons that tell tale of a battle.

But Sasuke—

Sasuke looks right past the sight. His eyes are on another body, a bit further into the room and more to the left. His Sharingan swirls to life, allowing him to see clearer in the darkness. Dark hair—purple, bloody fingernails against the gray stone floor—

Itachi.

It takes a second for him to fly across the room, for him to fall to his knees by his brother’s side. Something thick and wet immediately soaks through the fabric of his pants—blood, from the deep wound that’s sliced through his brother’s chest. The metallic, coppery scent is heavy in the air.

“Nii-san,” Sasuke says. “Nii-san!”

Itachi’s face is deathly pale. He doesn’t respond to Sasuke’s voice. Sasuke’s hands shake, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs, as he pulls the ripped fabric of the Akatsuki cloak back to get a better look at where the blood is all coming from.

He remembers two fingers against his forehead. Dragging a line of wet blood down his face.

(Forgive me, Sasuke. But this is it.)

No. No, no, no, no.

He’s on his side. One of his arms stretched out, fingers smearing blood against the floor, like he was trying to drag himself forward. Sasuke shifts his brother’s body slightly, his head lolling against Sasuke’s folded knees. There’s blood on his lips, and it makes another spark of panic go off in Sasuke’s chest.

Deidara drops down next to him. “God. Is he dead? Who did this to him? Kakuzu?”

There’s actually a thread of something close to fear in the blonde’s voice. Curious, considering how many times he’s expressed a desire to kill Itachi himself. Deidara cares, despite how vehemently he denies it, and any other time Sasuke would never let it go without comment—but right now it barely registers.

His trembling fingers shove Itachi’s hair aside to press against his neck. He finds a pulse there—slightly too slow, but undeniable proof of life.

Sasuke releases a breath. “He’s alive. For now. Help me stop the bleeding.”

“With what?” Deidara demands. “I don’t carry a medical kit with me! Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

“Shut up,” Sasuke snaps. Deidara’s panic is only making his worse. The momentary relief that Itachi is alive is quick to fade, the previous fear returning as he takes stock of the situation—of Itachi’s injuries, probably too serious for them to treat even with the proper supplies.

Sasuke strips off his Akatsuki cloak. He balls it up and presses it to Itachi’s chest in a pathetic attempt to stem the blood flow. “Who here knows medical ninjutsu? Anyone?”

Deidara grimaces. “Sasori.”

“That’s all?”

“It’s not usually an issue! Konan knows a bit of battlefield surgery, I think—Leader-sama, too—but this might be too much even for that. And we still don’t know if Ane-san’s managed to get him on our side, so he might be trying to kill us too…”

Great, Sasuke thinks. The only person with the capability to possibly save Itachi’s life in time is the same person that Itachi kicked through one of Sasuke’s portals less than half an hour ago.

He takes a breath. Looking down at his brother and resisting the urge to flinch at the blood on his lips. Unless Itachi bit his tongue or sliced the inside of his mouth on his teeth, that blood meant internal bleeding. Likely a punctured lung.

He brushes the bangs from Itachi’s face. “It’s okay,” he says shakily. “You’re going to be okay. I won’t let you die again, I promise.”

He turns his head to look at Deidara.

“I’m going to retrieve Sasori. I need you to stay here with him while I do.”

Deidara’s mouth drops open. “Wh—Me? No way!”

“It’ll only take a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

“But what if he dies?!”

“Then make sure he doesn’t!” Sasuke yells back. Leaving his brother is the last thing he wants to do—but unless Sasuke can get him help, there’ll be no saving him. All Sasuke will be able to do is sit here and hold his hand while his life slowly fades away.

No. Itachi will live this time. He has to.

Deidara grimaces. He looks down at Itachi’s bleeding body, then back to Sasuke. “Okay, okay, fine! Just—hurry the hell back, you brat!”

Sasuke slides out from under his brother. His bloodstained hands, holding the wadded-up cloak tightly against Itachi’s chest, are replaced by Deidara’s. He stands up, pushing his hair out of his face and the rings in his left eye whirling as the power activates.

A portal opens up in mid-air. Beyond, Sasuke can see miles upon miles of desert—the same plane of existence where he trapped Sasori. Taking one last glance at Itachi, sending up a prayer, he steps through the portal and leaves the two of them an entire dimension away.