Seven-year old Uchiha Sasuke abruptly woke up with cold sweat sliding down his back at 5 a.m. in the morning, dreams of a ten-tailed beast and a man in an orange spiral mask wielding an unusual Sharingan, and a war plaguing his mind. He doesn't understand why, but the dream unsettles him, a sense of urgency seeming to build inside him at the thought of it. But he knew he couldn't do anything about it, not yet, at least, because some parts of him were missing... No; not missing, just not fully integrated.

He blinked, confusion etched onto his face as he rose to sit on the edge of his bed. Integrated? He was quite sure he never knew the meaning of that word. He had heard his father use it a few times, but he never understood what it meant. He suddenly realized he had somehow gotten more perceptive and that his speech pattern--again, words he never knew but now understood--has changed. He no longer talked like he did before. Like how a normal child should. He never spoke this formally and rarely using such complex words, even if his father constantly told him to do so. 'The Uchiha is a prestigious and a superior clan,' his father had said, 'therefore we must always be proper--look at your brother for example.' Then he had gone off with one of his 'you should be more like Itachi' and 'how the Uchiha is superior' tirades.

Sasuke paused. Somehow the thought of his father invoked some feelings or disrespect and bitter disappointment.

And somehow, a part of him knew that his father deserved it. 

RRRIINNNGGG!!!

He was brought out of his musings by the sound of his alarm clock. 6 a.m.? My, how long has he been sitting there? Almost an hour? Turning off his alarm, he stretched, walking towards his bedroom door, passing the mirror on the side of his room. Suddenly, he jumped, the sight of his own reflection startling him, seemingly unfamiliar to himself. Spiky black hair messy with sleep, wild, childish black eyes and a chubby face of a seven-year old. Yet it felt so unfamiliar.

What was wrong with him?! Sasuke thought, still staring at his own reflection with wide eyes. He knew this is his reflection, he saw it everyday. Then, why...why didn't he expect himself to be so young?

An image appeared in his head, a seventeen year old with looks similar to himself, wearing a white haori and black form-fitting pants with a sword on his waist. Now this...this is familiar.

He blinked, and the image was gone, leaving him with many confusing thoughts and a budding headache. He shook his head, continuing his way to the kitchen. Well, whatever it was, he was sure he'd figure it out sooner or later. He doesn't know how, he just knew that he would. Right now, he would act like he usually would to avoid any suspicions. He had a feeling that things would get awry if someone started suspecting him (he's not sure of what though. Being accused as a spy? It was a possible outcome. Sometimes he was sure that his own subconscious managed to figure out things on its own before he could even think about it. Yes, he's aware that many unexplainable things are happening to himself right now.) with his sudden character change unbefitting for an average seven-year old.

Walking into the kitchen, he yawned and greeted his mother and brother in his usual manner.

"Ohayo, kaa-san, aniki..." he murmured, walking sleepily towards the dining table.

His mother turned to look at him while simultaneously shaping an onigiri with her hands. "Ohayo, Sasuke-kun. Take a seat, breakfast is almost ready." she smiled, and he nodded towards her.

"Ohayo, otouto." a smooth tenor voice greeted him and Itachi ruffled his hair, smiling gently as he did so. Sasuke was about to complain at his brother for messing his hair (like he usually did), but his chest suddenly constricted painfully, sadness, anguish, regret, and grief so deep momentarily overwhelmed him, making him stumble as his knees almost gave out on him. Itachi caught him before he fell, scolding him, but he could see a glimmer of worry in his brother's eyes (since when was he so good at reading people's emotion?) as he helped him up.

Sasuke played it off flawlessly as being a bit too sleepy, yawning and rubbing his right eye as a tear fell out of it. They believed him, of course, quickly ushering him to eat breakfast faster or he was going to be late. Taking a quick shower and bringing his bag with him, he hurriedly took off from the clan compound, shouting his goodbyes and making his way to the Academy before his brother could offer to walk him there.

Sasuke didn't know what came over him that morning, but he couldn't stand being in the presence of his brother, not now, not when a glimpse of his brother's face makes his chest hurt, hurt so much, filling him with so much regret and anguish that he hardly could breathe.

No, he decided, he couldn't face his brother for the time being, not when he felt like breaking down and weeping on his brother's feet to beg for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what, he really didn't understand, but he knew the guilt was eating him inside-out. It would be no good to ruin his cover, and he had just barely started.

Sasuke shook himself from that particularly confusing train of thoughts (cover? what cover?), and trudged on to the Academy, trying to keep his emotions in check. Hopefully, things wouldn't get any worse.

Oh, how wrong he was.