Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, and am not making any profit.

A Dying Soul

Sasuke lived for the dead.

This, he told himself, set him apart from the rest of the world. His mind was focused so far back, he couldn't move forward. He was filled with so much hatred, there was no room in his heart for love. He had no future—no present even. Only the cold, unchangeable past.

It was his denial of the present that allowed him to withstand his first three months in Sound. Whatever happened in any given moment, no matter how painful, humiliating, or degrading, Sasuke told himself he could not be affected by events so wholly a part of a world in which he had no place. And so, day by day he let events happen as if to someone else, his mind registering nothing but the growth of his power.

His silent acceptance changed the day Kabuto brought in the first practice victim, stripped of clothes and chained at the neck. Sasuke flatly refused—human subjects where not necessary for testing technique impact.

You can't know what any given jutsu will do to human flesh before you try, Orochimaru said. You will do this, or I will not teach you anything more.

For two straight months Sasuke held his refusal, until it became unbearably clear to him that Orochimaru wasn't working on borrowed time, like he was. Orochimaru's dead brethren did not whisper in his ears at night--did not urge him relentlessly forwards. Orochimaru had other monsters under his bed, ones that he was much more comfortable with than Sasuke was with his.

One night, while he stared at the cracked ceiling about his bed, Orochimaru's sibilant voice hissed in his ear, You must sacrifice in order to become stronger. You seek the highest power imaginable. What higher sacrifice is there than a human life? A thin smile he could feel on his skin. Don't turn away now. You knew the price for power when you came to me, did you not?

The next day—without hesitation, least he change his mind or show some weakness—Sasuke drove a fistful of altered chakra through a man's left temple. He crumpled like a dead leaf, and what was left of his body splattered to the floor. Only a slight twitch of Sasuke's right eyebrow belied his distress.

Ku-ku-ku…Never fear, Sasuke-kun. The next one will be easier. And Orochimaru was right. It was.

Sasuke lived for the dead. And little by little, he was dying for the dead as well.

Next Time: A Nice Guy