Naruto: The Chosen Undead

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Chapter no.53 Life of Sasuke Uchiha

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Sasuke lay in bed, his body restless even though he'd slept longer than he ever had. Every part of him felt tense, ready to leap into action, to throw a punch or focus his chakra. But there was nothing for him to do. Just a full week of rest, as if rest was what he needed. As if he could just switch off this burning need to move, to train, to chase down the shadows of his nightmares.

Withdrawal. That's what it felt like. His body, his mind—they were screaming for him to get up and train.

He dropped to the floor, his arms already braced for push-ups, when Kakashi's voice echoed in his mind like a taunt: Rest. The word was a curse, a binding chain, and it took everything in him to push himself back up, seething.

How could he rest when Itachi was out there, when his enemy was getting stronger with every passing second?

Sasuke sat up with a scowl, pushing the blanket away. His room felt stifling, almost like a cage. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the plain walls, the small table with its scattered books, the bed he'd lain in for far too long. His eyes drifted to the cabinet in the corner, and then to the old gramophone sitting on top of it. He hadn't touched it in years. It had been a gift from his mother, something she'd brought back from the Land of Snow.

He stood up and walked over to it, his hand brushing against the dusty surface. His mother had loved this gramophone. He could still remember her laughter as she'd explained how it worked, how she'd insisted on playing her favorite songs for him, her face lighting up like she'd found a treasure. She used to play music when the house was quiet, just the two of them. She'd put on one of her upbeat records and take his hands, guiding him in a clumsy dance around the room, her voice soft and gentle as she laughed at his stumbling steps.

Sasuke swallowed, his throat tight. He didn't have many memories like that, not with her, not with any of them. Just fragments, bits and pieces he clung to because they were all he had left. And yet, here it was, something she'd left behind, something he'd barely looked at since that night.

On a whim, he lifted the gramophone's lid and searched for a record. His fingers brushed over a familiar one, the label worn from use. He could almost hear her voice saying, This one's my favorite, Sasuke.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he placed the record on the turntable, set the needle, and stepped back as the music crackled to life. The song was bright, cheerful—a melody that seemed to fill the whole room, lifting the heaviness that had settled over him.

Without thinking, Sasuke took a step, then another, letting his body sway to the music. His movements were stiff at first, awkward, like he was forgetting how to dance, how to let go. But as the melody continued, his feet found their rhythm, and he began to move like he had all those years ago, the way his mother had taught him. His arms stretched out, reaching for hands that weren't there, and he could almost imagine her beside him, guiding him, laughing as they spun together.

For a few precious moments, he wasn't alone.

He could almost smell her lavender perfume, feel the light touch of her fingers as they brushed against his cheek. His mother's hands had always been warm, guiding him gently, like he was something precious. He could still hear her laughter, soft and bubbling as she twirled him around, her face full of a joy he hadn't seen in anyone else since. Her voice echoed faintly in his memory: Sasuke, you'll grow up to be someone amazing. I just know it.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him, letting himself fall into the past. He was a child again, clumsy and carefree, held safe by someone who loved him more than anything in the world.

The song played on, filling the empty spaces in his heart, stirring memories he'd buried deep. For the first time in years, he let himself feel something other than anger. He let himself remember what it had been like before everything fell apart.

As the final notes faded, silence poured back into the room like cold water, flooding every corner, settling like a weight on his shoulders. It was a silence so thick, it felt like he could choke on it. The music had left a ringing in his ears, a phantom echo of the warmth and joy he'd felt so briefly, like a sliver of sunlight slipping behind storm clouds.

He was alone.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the memory.

The blood on the tatami floor. The lifeless look in Itachi's eyes as he stood over their bodies, his face a mask of indifference. Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it was there, burned into his mind, as much a part of him as his own name. He could hear the echo of his taunting words.

"You're weak. Why are you so weak? Because you lack… hatred. Hate me. Detest me. Run. Run and cling to your pitiful life. And one day, when you possess the same eyes as I do… come and find me."

Anger, grief, longing—it all bled together, filling him with a pain that had nowhere to go. He felt like he was drowning in it, like he was still that scared little boy watching his world burn around him.

Before he could stop himself, his fist collided with the wall beside him. He wanted to tear that gramophone apart, to throw it against the wall until it shattered. How dare it bring back those memories, tease him with a warmth that was gone forever? How dare it make him remember?

A single tear slipped down Sasuke's cheek before he could stop it. He wiped it away quickly, almost angrily, hating the weakness it exposed. But the ache in his chest didn't go anywhere. It just sank deeper, a weight he couldn't shake—a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

This is just another test, he told himself bitterly. Kakashi has the Mangekyo Sharingan… he knows what it takes. Rest wasn't some kind of reward. It was a trial, a different kind of challenge, like enduring a brutal training session. Kakashi wanted him to feel this—to sit in the silence, to confront the emptiness instead of running from it.

But knowing that didn't make it easier.

It felt like punishment, worse than any physical training, harsher than any sparring match. Because resting meant facing the silence, facing the hollow ache that wouldn't go away. Resting meant accepting the truth: he was alone. The last of his family, his clan, his memories.

The lone avenger.

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The streets of Konoha bustled with the everyday noise of village life, filling the air with a mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional vendor hawking their wares. Sasuke walked through the paths, hands stuffed in his pockets, letting the noise wash over him. It wasn't the peace of solitude he usually craved, but after hours alone in his room, anything was better than that silence.

He paused at a food stand, his eyes drifting over trays of freshly made onigiri. The vendor greeted him with a friendly nod, and Sasuke handed over a few coins in exchange for a neatly wrapped rice ball. As he walked away, he took a bite, savoring the simple flavor.

A little further down the road, Sasuke spotted a group of kids playing a game of beigoma. They crouched in a tight circle around a small dirt arena, eyes glued to their spinning tops as they clashed, sparks and dust flying. Each hit sent gasps and cheers rippling through the group. One boy shouted with delight as his top knocked another clean out of the ring, his grin wide with victory.

There was a faint tug in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite place. The kids were so… carefree. Untouched by loss or vengeance. They could waste hours on a game without a care in the world, and he almost envied them for it.

He felt a presence behind him and, without looking, knew who it was.

"You know you can go join them."

"Hn," Sasuke muttered, shifting his gaze back to the game. He wasn't interested in playing with a bunch of kids, but the sight of those spinning tops and the happy, oblivious faces was strangely… calming. Like watching water flow down a quiet stream.

"Wow, didn't know you liked beigoma."

"I don't."

"Well, you're certainly staring hard enough. So… how's the resting going?"

"Hn." Sasuke's response was barely a sound. He could feel his frustration building, like a tightly wound coil that had nowhere to release.

Kakashi sighed theatrically. "I'm going to take that as a 'not well.'" He lowered his book just enough to meet Sasuke's glare. "Don't you have any hobbies?"

"Training. Eating. Sleeping," Sasuke replied curtly.

"Ah," Kakashi said, drawing the word out with mock wonder. "When did Guy's craziness infect my cute little genin?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Might Guy," Kakashi said, shaking his head with exaggerated lament. "All he does is train, eat, sleep, or show up to bother me with his ridiculous 'challenges.' I swear, it's like his entire life revolves around his training regimen. Hmm." He tilted his head, giving Sasuke a sidelong glance. "Sound familiar?"

Sasuke's jaw clenched. "His student was fast," he muttered, voice low. He didn't need to explain more—Kakashi would understand. The memory of Lee's speed, the way he'd been defeated in an instant, still stung.

Kakashi chuckled. "Ah, yes. Guy's speed…" He glanced away. "To tell you the truth, even my Sharingan can barely keep up with him."

"Are you… intentionally doing this?"

Kakashi looked back at him, the picture of innocence. "Doing what?"

"You know I want to train, and you keep talking about people I need to surpass."

"Is that really the lesson you're taking from all this?"

"What else am I supposed to take from it?" Sasuke shot back, feeling genuinely confused and a bit stung. He didn't understand what Kakashi was trying to prove, why he was throwing these little jabs at him.

"Even Guy," he said, his tone gentler, "takes time to rest and recover."

Sasuke huffed and looked away, refusing to acknowledge the point. Rest. As if that would bring him any closer to the power he needed. He watched as one of the kids' beigoma spun wildly out of the ring, scattering dust and pebbles. The game ended in laughter, their voices bright and unrestrained. That feeling tugged at him again, faint but persistent—a distant memory of what it was like to be carefree.

"Do you have… any ways I can pass the time?"

Kakashi's eye lit up as if he'd been waiting for that question. He slapped his forehead with a gasp, overacting just enough to be ridiculous.

"Ah, I knew I was forgetting something!" He hopped up from the bench, nudging Sasuke forward with his shoulder. "Come on, let's go, Mr. 'No Life.'"

Sasuke rolled his eyes, muttering a faint "Hn" as he let Kakashi steer him away from the park.

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[ Personal Note: First off, thanks a ton to all of you for sticking with this story. Seriously, you guys are awesome. Now, if you're interested in supporting me on P treon, let me just say that over there, I post these massive 5k-word chapters. But heads up, if you're jumping to P treon, you'll need to start from Chapter 26, since that's where this chapter lines up with the content there.

To everyone here just reading along, please don't forget to leave a comment! Honestly, your comments make my day, and they let me know you're as invested in this story as I am. So yeah, thanks again, and I hope you have an amazing rest of your day!