The dense forest on the Land of Fire's border was like an endless green ocean, swallowing every sound except the wind's mournful whisper through the treetops and the faint snap of dry branches underfoot. Sasuke Uchiha staggered through it, waves of exhaustion washing over him, forcing him to stop repeatedly and lean against cold tree trunks to catch his breath.
Konoha's lights had long since vanished behind him, but the storm in that hospital room remained branded deep into his soul, hurting him more than any physical wound. Itachi's calm, despairing account, his own uncontrolled roars, and the icy resolve with which he had finally escaped through the window... everything played over and over in his mind.
He raised a hand and looked at his palm. The moment he stirred his chakra, that trace of cold returned like a festering affliction, silently creeping along his chakra pathways. It brought no sense of strength. Instead, it felt more like a reminder that physically escaping had not ended his entanglement with that dark power, a reminder that his inner turmoil and negative emotions were its finest nourishment.
"Get out..." he whispered, trying to drive the cold away through sheer will, but to little effect. It felt as though it had already fused with his own chakra to some degree, making the two difficult to separate.
Hunger and thirst began to torment his body. He had fled in such haste that he had brought no supplies. Looking at the identical trees all around him, he felt a bewilderment unlike anything he had ever known. Where was he supposed to go after leaving Konoha? His reason for revenge had crumbled, and immense power seemed to come at a terrifying price. In an instant, his life seemed to have lost every point of reference.
Just