Illusion

Author: NayanRoo

Prologue

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They sat together in a room lit with filtering sunlight. His kimono was a beautiful sapphire blue, custom-tailored to fit and made of the most expensive, softest silk. Why wouldn't he be wearing such a fine garment? His lover was one of the sannin, the jutsu-fiend, traitor-redeemed. One mission that he completed gave them enough to put some away in savings and still spend lavishly. This kimono was from one of those after-mission flushes of money, he was sure of it.

His lover sat next to him. Orochimaru's kimono was of the same stuff, except his was a royal purple color, embroidered in such a way that made it appear the kimono was made out of purple snakeskin. Doubtless, had he not been so opposed to harming snakes, the sannin would have a kimono made of snakeskin—it would have been fitting, Sasuke thought. Their hands were clasped gently, warmly between them; a pot of water for tea bubbled on a brazier nearby. Orochimaru always preferred real tea leaves as opposed to bags of any sort; he claimed the leaves held a better flavor.

"We can't stay here much longer," Orochimaru said in that soft but commanding way of his. It never held anything good; all his proclamations of love were said in a softer, kinder—if there had been a shape to it, Sasuke would have said rounder tone. "Our time is nearly at an end, little bird."

"I know," Sasuke replied. He looked over at Orochimaru and squeezed the elder's hand. "I know we're leaving soon."

"You know what you must do."

"I know."

"Would you like some tea?" the snake-sannin asked politely. "It's just about to boil, I think, and you don't like it when it's that hot." Sure enough, the teapot started whistling, and quickly Orochimaru picked it up off the brazier and poured the hot water into two teacups, offering the first one to Sasuke. He took it with a word of thanks and let the leaves steep for a few moments as he always had. Orochimaru took a sip of his tea and sighed. "It is good."

"Why don't we have more time?"

"It is what was decided."

"But I don't understand."

Orochimaru waved his hand at—everything, the world, this room, their clothes, the tea. "It is all iluzi," he said in that same voice. "Illusion."

"Genjutsu—"

"Not a jutsu."

"What then?"

Orochimaru turned to him with a little half-smirk of amusement playing about his lips and kissed him. As they had a thousand times before, Sasuke had been on the verge of asking something else, and his mouth yielded to the sannin's. Lips not full, but not too thin either. Just right, in all ways. "You ask too many questions. You're like me when I was young."

"But what is—"

"Shh, little bird. Now sleep."

Orochimaru's hand lay heavy over his eyes, and Sasuke felt a spinning in the back of his head, and then all was blacker than black and he was vanished.

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"Please state your full name, age, rank and registration number for the recorder."

"Uchiha Sasuke. Nineteen years old, genin, missing-nin. Registration number oh-one-two-six-oh-six."

"Thank you. Uchiha Sasuke, you are charged with high treason against Konohagakure on the following counts: aiding and abetting an enemy of Konohagakure; aiding and abetting a S-class criminal; the murder of seventy-four nins belonging to the villages of Sunagakure, Konohagakure, Kumogakure, Takigakure and Amegakure; providing confidential information concerning Konohagakure to an enemy; espionage; conduct unbecoming of a shinobi; possession of jutsu forbidden by the laws of the village and the laws of shinobi; and defection from Konohagakure."

The Elders of Konohagakure sat above him; one level above that, Tsunade and the other Kages. Thirteen pairs of eyes bored into the Uchiha heir.

"You will be asked a series of questions regarding these charges; answer honestly and completely, and when we deem our questioning complete we will pronounce our verdict."

He could feel the eyes of his former teammates and teacher on his back, and he didn't care. They had heard his testimony before, they had the records of his interrogations from Ibiki; they had their own actions on record. They knew the story; they could see clearly in their world. But all around them was iluzi.

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The first time they had seen each other, there had been a spark of hatred in one eye and a spark of interest in the other. As it would happen, those sparks flew together, struck from the same flint, and grew into a great, roaring fire. Any union between them would be forbidden by religion, society and the laws that had once governed their lives. But love—be it true, forced, or a mutual need between two people—will not be denied when it has found fuel to burn. And if those in charge of the fire are attentive, the fire will burn forever.

Like a flickering spell, the flames leapt up high, consuming all those who stood in their way. Eventually, though, it consumed them too.

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Reviews always loved. Strange idea from a strange mind.