They aren't dead, he reminds himself, as the sudden crushing feeling of loss threatens to overwhelm him. They're still here. Different versions of them-but they're still them.
As an Uchiha, he's extremely susceptible to strong emotions-especially those concerning the ones he loves. It's the curse of his bloodline, to feel too deeply, to lose yourself in it, and he struggles to quickly regain control.
He can't sit around. They were successful. He needs to start moving immediately in his plans-in infiltrating the Akatsuki.
It's night out. The moon and stars are the only lights in the sky. If he's going to leave, this is his chance. Few people will be out on the streets during this hour, and the village's Night Watch has always been extremely incompetent at their jobs. Last time he deserted, he walked right out the front gates and no one stopped him.
Sasuke doesn't waste any more time thinking. He pulls out a backpack from his closet and begins packing.
He doesn't take much with him-only what he can carry on his back. Clothes, weapons, provisions. He prepares himself before he goes, knowing he's going to have a few fights coming up. He wraps his arms and legs in bandages to prevent muscle strain, and he stitches summoning symbols into his armbands. He wraps a few of his shuriken in wire-string before storing them away.
He doesn't have his sword, which is annoying. He'll have to steal one from somewhere along the way.
When he has everything he needs, he stares down at the photo of Team 7 on his dresser. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls the picture from the frame and folds it up in his pocket.
He will return to them. Once the Akatsuki are dead.
(Once Itachi is saved.)
He stands in front of the window in his room, his hands around the straps of his backpack on his shoulders, and stares down at the deserted street below. He's hit with an eerie feeling of déjà vu, recalling the last time he stood in this position. But it's different this time. He's not walking into the den of a snake, driven by vengeance. He isn't severing his bonds.
He thinks about his teammates now tucked away in their beds. Sakura sleeping fitfully, peacefully, still painfully naïve and innocent. Naruto haunted by the emptiness of his small, unkept apartment. Kakashi burdened by memories and ghosts, shaking awake from traumas over a decade old.
Sasuke slips his hand into his pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded picture.
I'll come back for you. I promise.
He leaves one thing behind as he slips from Konoha, to tell what has happened to him. Pinned to the front door of his house with a kunai.
His Konoha headband, a line drawn straight through the middle.
★
The trek to Amegakure should only take him about a week-but before that, he has another stop.
He takes the familiar path to Oto, traversing the roads easily. He knows every inch of the Hidden Sound after spending three years living there. He knows which places to steer clear of and how to hide himself from sight. Orochimaru has spies everywhere, but Sasuke knows them too, and he's well-practiced in ducking them.
It takes him a mere two days on foot to reach Orochimaru's hideout. He has dozens of them scattered throughout the Land of Fire, and even in other lands, but this one is his home base. Sasuke walks straight up to the hideout's entrance, dispelling the genjutsu that hides it from sight.
It's an eerie feeling to walk these halls after nearly four years. And in this body, he feels just as he did the first night there.
He takes the stairs that lead deeper down, travelling deeper inside. Eventually he's intercepted, by a flash of white hair and the glint of glasses.
