Chapter Text
Soon…soon his day of revenge, of justice, would arrive.
They thought that they could use him as a whipping boy and fire him the moment he was about to get his moment in the sun, did they? Just toss him off to the side like yesterday's trash and leave him in a dumpster to be forgotten? He'd show them, he'd show all of them.
The stage was already set. Terrible as the fiasco that he witnessed that night was, it was at least made quite apparent that the...replacement they found for him only looked the part, no matter how pretty those looks were. The pretty boy's positive attributes were only skin deep; he had no talent, seeming to have replaced it all in favor of all the emotional range of a teaspoon. One that was even half full even.
If they thought that he hadn't been doing a good job and decided to let him go due to his inability to perform, that would have been one thing. A blow to his pride, certainly, but a storm that could be weathered. He'd lick his wounds, gather himself, and have a nice reference when trying to land his next part.
But they had let him go through all the drudge work, all the hours of busting his butt, breaking his back, desperate to do anything just to get bit parts or to simply be in the background of the action. All of it in the hope, in the implied promise, that his big break was coming. And when the final climax was building, the big finale being put together, they tore it all away. Not only tore it all away, but tore up his dreams just to make way for this...charlatan to take the space that was so clearly meant for him!
Sad part was, that pale imitation was arguably not even the worst part of the whole debacle. He had no idea what purpose that girl served in the story. It was true she had a fine enough singing voice. And her fair but average looks let her stand out just enough for a song and her small bit role without taking away from the stars of the show. But what in the world was that song she was singing? He'd never heard it before, and they'd cut out all the instrumental music to let it play. Did that mean they let this random girl improvise a song? God, standards must be slipping.
That was hardly the only example of slipping standards though. As clearly forced as the girl's insertion into the story was, the writers did the best they could to shine that turd. Whatever writer came up with lines for the blonde, however, was damn lucky he was not around to give them the swift smack upside the head they so clearly deserved. It was nothing but corniness and clichés. "Nothing is over until you have a happy ending"? Really? Good god, someone get him a bag before he barfed.
It just highlighted the exact sorts of problems that were endemic in not only this movie but, in his opinion, across the entire film industry. Cutting costs wherever possible, especially in the areas that actually mattered, and cover up the gaping holes with flashy lights and special effects. Mind you, even he had to admit those very effects were impressive. The work to make a shadow seem like it moved on its own was not something thrown together in a couple hours. And he genuinely did not know how they made and coordinated those two giant narwhals except for the fact that it had to be hideously expensive.
But how many writers with competence greater than that of 12 year old could they have hired if they hadn't spend such a ridiculous sum on stunt doubles for the a blond kid whose character didn’t actually amount to much in the overarching plot of the movie series? It was honestly one of the most egregious wastes of money he had ever seen. Or what about not hiring a "war-train" in perhaps the one place in the Elemental Nations with weather uniquely unsuited to having well maintained trains and tracks? Or maybe they could have refrained from creating a one of a kind monstrosity of a blimp with enough spare power that it could handle the hundreds or thousands of pounds flying through ice storms and blizzards would inevitably add to the weight? Surely they could have saved enough money by cutting such frivolousness that they wouldn't have needed to make already hired bodyguards pull double duty as actors instead of keeping actual trained thespians like himself.
It seemed that hindsight had proven Yukie correct in her unease about the project and her wishes to just ditch the whole thing. It was a shame a star as bright as her had been forced to end her career on such a note. After a finale like that, it was unlikely he'd ever see her acting again.
He couldn't fix everything unfortunately, but he couldn't just let this two hour insult to acting and good taste everywhere stand unanswered. So, he made the trek across the Land of Fire, and that was the sort of trial that was best forgotten, lest he be forced to undergo another one like it again. When that torturous journey through ignorant lice-ridden simpletons finally ended, his reward was the impossible task of trying to find a single person in one of the largest cities he had ever seen. Not something for the slow or faint of heart but sacrifices must be made, had been made. He'd do anything to get his revenge. Even indulge in the very clichés that he hated so much.
Because this time, it was personal.
Making his way through the quiet rooftops of early morning Konoha, ANBU Hawk unknowingly joined his ancestors in the muttered grumbles of a clan that wished the location of their compound didn't make them run straight at the rising sun peeking above the horizon. Upon finally crashing into his familiarly empty apartment, he dropped his pack in its designated corner and finally let go of the tension that had held his neck stiff for the past seven days.
It had been, Sasuke reflected in his last few moments of consciousness, a good week. A hard and exacting week true, he had had to spend a full twenty minutes in the base showers just washing off the sweat he'd built up. And Ocelot's stickler attitude toward the rules both made so much more sense in the context of Kakashi-sensei and baffled Sasuke as to how the two could possibly have belonged to the same organization.
But it was precisely the sort of hard and exacting week that he needed in order to know he was doing good work. And the sort that he needed to push himself just that little bit higher, little bit farther. He'd rest easy tonight because he could fall asleep knowing he was living up to the clan whose grave he'd been forced to make his home.
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A fist pounded at the door, startling Sasuke awake in its impatient swipes. When Plan A of dealing with Academy age Naruto (ignore him until he found something else to pay attention to) failed, Sasuke snarled and tore the covers off of him. ANBU wouldn't be calling him back in this soon after he just got back. And though he didn't have the freaky preternatural senses of Shikako, he had enough to damn well know there was no one he recognized at the door.
Keeping as steady a lid on his killing intent as he could, Sasuke stomped his way to the door. He didn't bother looking at the clock because the time didn't matter. This jackass had come here at too goddamn early to be civil in the morning. And Sasuke would take out of his sensei's and teammate's books and enjoy eviscerating the idiot on the other side of the door that did not know when to quit. No matter how technically very very rude using the Sharingan on an ally was, Sasuke knew as bloodshot as his eyes were no one would be able to tell the difference.
Suddenly swinging his door open, Sasuke hissed out a response that Kushina Uzumaki would have recognized as a perfect rendition of Mikoto at her angriest (having been the one to drive her to that state).
"What?!"
Undaunted, the moron stood on his doorstep had the gall to act as if he was the one with the right to be chiefly offended.
"If I am going to be upstaged, it is absolutely not going to be by some pretty-boy no-talent hack who couldn't act their way out of a wet paper bag! Come now, let's get you up to snuff."
Somewhere beneath the sleep deprived rage that threatened to lash out was a small voice remembering something Shikako said about the best way to beat someone was to give them exactly what they wanted. Often enough, it would give them more than enough rope to do the hard work for you. Well, she had certainly proved that well enough with that Logistics guy….Leaking out enough killing intent to let the self centered imbecile know he was not someone to be trifled with, Sasuke concocted the barest bones of a plan his mind had come up with.
"You will leave my apartment. You will not come back. Tomorrow morning, at 10 am, we will meet at Hironobu's bakery. Good bye."
Having said his piece, Sasuke slammed the door shut and went back to bed.
Walking back toward the more populated areas of Konoha, Kaito was rather pleased with himself. His target was already suffering for the terrible performance he had put on and he would soon be able to relish seeing him fail at the profession that Kaito himself had spent years perfecting. His revenge was already all but inevitable.
"Ah, I love it when life makes sure vengeance and justice prevail!"