The Boy in the Painting

Chapter One

Sasuke Uchiha was a teenage tragedy. Everyone knew about the horrific night his whole clan was suddenly murdered. They hardly cared anymore to set their tone to a whisper as he passed, expressing their pity for him, and gossiping about his missing brother. It used to bother him, but these days he was haunted by something else that happened that night. Years had passed without a thought spent on the moments of his daring escape from Uchiha mansion, but recently his dreams had been plagued by a pair of glass blue eyes.

Two blue azure orbs that pierced the veils of darkness in the depths of his nightmares. He felt like they were watching more often than just in his dreams though. He could not shake the feeling.

Sasuke tried to reason with himself. He had not seen or heard of the painting since that night.

When he asked the nurses about it when he awoke in the hospital, they gave him no answers. The doctors and nurses tending to his wounds would often proclaim the miraculous circumstances, but he barely heard them. The overwhelming loss of his entire clan was debilitating, and his mind found it hard to stay in one place. He rarely felt like there was air in the room. That, however, could have also been attributed to the smoke damage he still had in his lungs.

A week later the authorities came to question him about that night, and he gave them his full account. He only left out what he thought he saw within that painting's brush strokes... He felt silly about mentioning it. They questioned him about his brother, whether Sasuke thought him hidden in a crevice of the house or run off like a thief in the night. It angered him to think the detectives could even dare to think his brother was responsible for the death of his entire clan. Itachi loved their family, he was a dedicated member of their clan, sworn to guide and protect everyone. Yet a week later they found his notebooks in the rubble. Some burnt too badly to be read. Others were simply fine, seemingly protected somehow. In those books, they found the rambling of a madman and a sort of confession.

The detectives didn't go into details with Sasuke, but he got the gist that the evidence now was overwhelming that Itachi did indeed facilitate the events of that night. Sasuke felt shattered. All he had ever known, stolen away by his brother whom he had looked up to and respected. He couldn't much remember what they said after that, his mind a dark hazy with thoughts that pounded against his ears like war drums.

I'll murder him!

I'll kill him for what he's done!

He was supposed to be my brother!

He was supposed to protect me!

I'll find. And I'll kill him.

This, I swear.

Detectives tried again a few days after, trying to get their questions through to him. 'Where do you think he would go? Do you know if he had any friends that would help him?' Sasuke had no answers for them, only reciting information they already found in his notebooks and journals. Again, he tried to ask about the painting, but the officers also had no clue what he was talking about. He was not questioned again.

A few days after that his adoptive father came to pick him up. His name was Kakashi Hatake, and Sasuke immediately recognized the man. Relief welled in his belly. For the first time in weeks, since the morning of his birthday, he realized that that ball of anxiety had a grip on his lungs now. His body let go of the breath he was holding. The man was young, Sasuke guessed somewhere in his early thirties, but he had gone white-haired early. Sasuke was surprised to see it did not age him, but instead gave him a timeless look. He wore a black mask, something his father had told him Kakashi never removed, for fear of disease. Still, his crinkled eyes left Sasuke feeling like it was going to be okay.