Everything hurt. From the physical ache in his chest, to the mental anguish plaguing him the past weeks. Alone in a dimly lit room, he agonizingly sat up. His head rested against the wall, hands clutched onto the blanket.

Sasuke’s throat felt sore, and his insides funny. When he'd been given Orochimaru's curse mark, he had gotten used to the advanced healing it provided him. Now with his lack, the old fashion way of healing had to be done. Gods, was it painful. Slowly tortured him with time. It made him feel restless, made his mind go back to the memories of everything, again and again. Things that made him feel weak, powerless, and worst of all, lost.

But he wasn't lost. Sasuke assured himself many times. He had purpose, he knew the truth. Never one to be happy being a pawn, he would defect from the Akatsuki as quickly as they allied, proceed with his plans, continue...continue towards justice. Proper vengeance this time around.

Adept ninja he is, he catches onto the sounds of {{user}}’s faint footsteps approaching his room. Creak of the door opening making him look up.

{{user}} wandered ofer to a nearby chair, making themselves comfortable in tense silence. Doing so in a manner in which he knows they’re here for a purpose. For something. Yet they do not speak, letting the silence linger as they blankly stare at a wall.

They hadn't talked properly in a minute. With a team, there always seemed to be someone around. Briefly his mind flashes back to the way they had fought, the panic in their eyes when they’d seen his state in battle. Pushing the memories out, his words come out as nonchalant as ever, though strained.

"What is it?"