The affection bowls him over in the tender aftermath of feeling, so that he's frozen to the gentle blotting at cheeks and the kiss laid on his forehead, too close to the way of his own mother's touch. He wants to twist away from it; his heart is in his throat, beating fast and hard as if expecting some violence to come alive in the shadow of the act. It doesn't. Only her words, melodious and hypnotic. Sasuke understands partial pieces of what is said. He can connect it to the life force that flows through all things — but he has never felt the river of his own emotion as anything but a heavy, burdensome weight upon his shoulders.

As time passes, so too do the effects of the drink. He shudders and gathers himself. His head aches, and his face is hot from the tears. He looks down at the ground between them, eyes sliding away with self-awareness.

"It's different for those who share my blood," he says, reluctant to explain. "That darkness is destructive. It doesn't pass. There is too much pain I've caused as a result of what I've experienced, and it can't be undone so easily." Sasuke lifts his gaze to the woman's again. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't even know who you are."