4.

Not many people knew the requirements to awaken the Sharingan, the copy-wheel doujutsu Uchihas believe was gifted to them from the Gods. All the wilfully blind villagers saw was the glowing red eyes, its demonic appearance that recorded everything, spinning madly and, in a haste, turned to the other side. 

What many also didn't know, however was that although every single uchiha—even those with diluted blood—had the possibility of gaining the Sharingan, not many ever did. 

To achieve the blessed eyes of the Sharingan, one must experience desperation: that daunting feeling where you stare death in its face and wait for your fate to be sealed as well, only for the last flickers of hope and determination to come roaring to life as you finally taste the power that's been itching to be wielded. The Sharingan almost always turns the battle to your favour and you walk home feeling victorious and bursting with pride, knowing your family is waiting at home to congratulate you.

At least, that's how it usually goes.

Sasuke's Sharingan awakened from the terror, from the sick feeling of betrayal, from the rage rumbling in his chest knowing there's nothing he could do to ever erase the carnage in front of him from his mind. It was a sign of his failure, his weakness. He wasn't even worth enough to be killed. 

(But those civilians and children younger than him were?)

As such, Sasuke never touched his Sharingan and pretended it didn't exist because after all, once you keep telling yourself something for years you begin to even believe it yourself. Sometimes he cursed his fragile psyche for placing so many limitations on himself—he could be training those eyes of his with the scrolls full of carefully written advice in the Naka Shrine. And worse enough this was all because he wanted to believe he could awaken his eyes in the same way the rest of his clan did—through an actual fight, not his palpable fear lashing out as he ran away from his clan's murderer, hoping he wasn't next. He didn't want to be different. He was already the last Uchiha.

It was disgraceful. What sort of Uchiha was afraid of their own eyes? Every time the tomoe spun when he looked at the mirror, he saw red skies and black clouds. He would never speak of this travesty; he would die from shame alone. 

Sasuke knew there were people who could never recover from the shinobi lifestyle. Some of his clansmen used to have to be quarantined due to their unstable mind. The shaking of their arms, the mutterings to the air, their Sharingans unintentionally spinning frightfully, enemies lurking that are only figments of their imagination. It used to unsettle Sasuke but all his mother said to console him was that it was normal for shinobi who had extensive careers in the front lines, something that was the Uchiha clan's specialisation.

She told Sasuke that while the Sharingan was such a useful tool, it was also a double-edged sword. The Sharingan achieved more than perfect clarity of images, making it more likely to be embedded in their minds forever. Every loss, every kill would never be forgotten. This was the price to pay for such steep power.

But Sasuke was only twelve. He had never witnessed a battlefield, only a murder scene, so why was his mind in tatters? Was that Itachi's goal when he was placed under the genjutsu?

Itachi cemented his status as worthless, insignificant and in order to prove his existence wasn't a mistake Sasuke would avenge those he abandoned and couldn't save. The Uchiha name would no longer suffer such scorn and fearful praise. Hopefully, this way he would no longer be kept such a close watch on like he was a rabid dog waiting to strike. It was constricting, suffocating and made his skin crawl—the scrutinising of the higher ups and the council that decided everything for him.

His lack of control was alarming. One single misstep and he would be torn apart like an experiment, all his flaws bore to them only to be rearranged and moulded the way they saw fit. He knew it, the Hokage knew it and he was all alone in this. They knew of his goals and possibly knew of his non-existent loyalty to the village. After all, if leaving the village aided him in his revenge he would never look back and gladly destroy his hitai-ate.

"Well?" Hatake asked patiently. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"That's none of your business," he muttered, sulkily. "I don't need to tell anyone I have the Sharingan. Only clan members." He took in his silvery hair that naturally pointed upwards and his lone grey eye. "And you're obviously not an Uchiha."

"I'm not," he relented. Sighing, he lifted the hitai-ate that covered his other eye, "but I was assigned to be your jounin instructor for a reason."

Sasuke's heart stopped at the sight. "You…"

In actuality, Sasuke was already aware of Hatake's Sharingan eye. That was one of the reasons why he was so hesitant and cautious around him. The audacity to own an eye he was not originally blessed with—how sacrilegious! Did he pilfer the Sharingan from a comrades' corpse? If the day comes where Sasuke decides to defect would he hunt him down with his dogs and pluck his eyes out of his head to replace his remaining original eye with another one?

"This isn't doujutsu theft," the man who owned the eye of his own clansmen said, in a soft, patronising tone. "I was given it as a dying wish. My teammate was an Uchiha."

Sasuke's forehead creased thoughtfully. "I don't like this but if you haven't been forced to return the eye I think it's fine."

"They've sure tried."

Sasuke's glare deepened. "We are a very religious clan. We don't do well to outsiders finding out the secrets of our eyes. But I'm sure they couldn't do anything to stop the Fourth Hokage's student, could they?" he uttered the last part bitterly.

Did Hatake see the Uchiha being against a non-Uchiha owning something that was rightfully theirs as unreasonable? Could it be possible that his teacher was another one of those shinobi who viewed his clan as judgmental and hostile, preconceived notions and prejudice influencing his interactions? Sasuke however was used to insults against his clan over the years even if it was hidden with flowery, tearful condolences.

"Hm, looks like you've done your research," his sensei idly pointed out. "As for what you're saying, I guess you're right. I didn't feel like I deserved this but Ob–he said he wanted to watch the future with me together through his eye." His laugh was hoarse, laced with heavy regrets and self-hatred. He rubbed his face. "Your father… He allowed me to keep the eye. A lot of people were against his decision. He was a good man." 

Sasuke had nothing to say to that. Of course, his father was a good man. Wicked Eye Fugaku's reputation was not to be underestimated. As for whether he was a good father—well, Sasuke loved and respected him regardless.

(Secretly, in the confines of his heavily guarded mind, Sasuke speculated if things with his clan would have turned out differently if Father didn't pressure Itachi so much to be the perfect tool, but Fugaku wasn't the one carrying the blade stained with blood at the end of it all. Did he even put up a fight? Fugaku was strong enough to be a Hokage candidate, and if he didn't defend the people he was sworn to protect, what did that mean?)

"How long have you had the Sharingan for, Sasuke?"

"I don't know," he lied.

Huffing, Kakashi read between the lines, understanding his reluctance to share any more information. "Do you... want me to help you train to use it?"

If 'Kakashi of the Sharingan', the jounin who copied over a thousand jutsus, was as experienced of a Shinobi as the Bingo Book he found made him out to be, this truly was the perfect opportunity for him to practice wielding the last legacy his clan left behind. As He once told him, the best way to overcome his fears was to face it head on. And isn't it funny? Nothing made Sasuke paralysed with fear more than Him.

So he lifted his head and stared deep into the Sharingan with his own. "Yes," he admitted.

Kakashi ruffled his hair. "You're a good kid."

He really wasn't.

But he would accept the head pats for now, even if it reminded him of That Man, even if it made him flinch because the last time he was touched in an affectionate manner was with his dead family.

Only for now. That Man can't take this from him.

Ever since the day Sasuke yelled at Sakura, something in her personality switched. The polite, cheerful persona that had occasional bouts of anger was replaced with a realistic, headstrong girl. Gone were the disturbing attempts at catching his attention, now replaced with a fiery determination to become strong. Despite how relieved Sasuke was that he had one less fan-girl, especially when it came to his own genin team, this also meant that, coupled with Sakura's natural intellect and new lack of brain to mouth filter, she was being extremely critical. Of course, he would simply ignore her, only if her judgments weren't very accurate and a lot of the time helpful. Now however, it was entirely unwelcome.

With Kakashi refusing to show up on time like a decent sensei would, their team was currently engaging in their own training, Sasuke's in the form getting used to the crisp vision the Sharingan granted him while practicing ninjutsu. With such startling detail, he could clearly see the flow of chakra needed to withstand the fires he created and thus made it easier to optimise the chakra usage instead of wasting any.

Sakura, beside him, dutifully attempted to rectify her abysmal taijutsu with terrifying precision. How weird for it to turn out that the only reason she lacked so much in the physical department was because of her awful food habits. If she genuinely had no such restrictions, taijutsu could easily be her forte. He wasn't going to praise her for her supposed natural talent however. 

"Sasuke, please just talk to Naruto, would you? I don't know what his problem is," she whispered, angling a thumb in said boy's direction. Their other teammate was brooding in a manner that was eerily similar to the way he did. "He's been like this for days now."

Focused on his own training and unwilling to engage with Naruto's uncharacteristic attitude, Sasuke shook his head firmly. "Why? The idiot's being quiet for once. I thought you found him annoying."

It seemed that even if Naruto was on the opposite side of the training ground from the two, he could still hear them loud and clear. "Wanna say that again, bastard?" he growled. 

Defeated, Sakura slumped to the floor. "Not this shit again," she whined.

Pouting at her exasperation, Sasuke refocused on the blond who was glaring at him with such animosity it made his stomach flip. In an attempt to sound firm like his father used to, he crossed his shoulders and sent him the iconic Uchiha death-stare. "Y-you… Stop."

"No."

Not successful then. 

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm always angry!"

Sasuke turned to Sakura who looked back at him with equal bafflement. "No, you're not."

All of a sudden, the pent up frustration visible in the tension of his shoulders dissipated. In an undignified manner, he solemnly stared at the two. "I have to be happy," Naruto explained with newfound patience. "Being happy doesn't mean I can't be angry. Yeah, that makes sense." 

"Hm, I think that does make sense," Sakura agreed, humming in curiosity. "I get very angry too. Sometimes I punch people. Hard. Nobody expects it to be hard."

"I'm only ever angry," Sasuke revealed. "I can't remember what being happy feels like."

Naruto's intense blue eyes seemed to look right through him. "You seem sad too." 

In abject horror, Sasuke recoiled, hissing like a cat. "I am not." Unknown to him, his teammates found the sight strangely endearing.

"Yeah, yeah, if you say so." Naruto then looked away in shame. "Your red, magic eyes… I hate them." 

Scoffing at the audacity to say that, Sasuke shoved his hands into his pockets, locking up any emotion he just revealed. Why did it hurt to hear that when he too at times felt the same? "A lot of people do."

"I–I don't understand why I do. It's the first time I've ever seen it but I just wanted to never see it again." He then let out a weird noise like he was thinking intensely. "Sharingan?"

"Congratulations. You just said the name of my clan's doujutsu."

Naruto then ooohed and muttered something about a stupid fox before replying back to Sasuke. "Never mind, I don't hate them. At least, I don't think I do. Someone else does though."

"Okay."

And then, in a complete flip, he grinned widely and began begging for a spar, as if his previous mood was non-existent. Good. Naruto looked best with a smile.

If Sakura was triumphantly laughing at him, well nobody had to know.