Ahahaha, I really shouldn't be starting another fanfiction, what with another one still running and another two on hiatus. This has been bugging me for awhile though, and with the help of a really good friend this was born! I haven't read the Naruto series completely, and I've mostly forgotten the dialogue as well as many other events...I'm sorry if this story does not follow events. Well, it is sort of AU.

Warnings: swearing in later chapters, an OC heavily involved in Naruto's past, canon deviation

I don't own Naruto (see me pout).

And a HUGE thanks to angelofdeath8254, my most awesome and brilliant fanfic buddy, for beta-ing! *glomp*

The sky was bleak and grey, threatening rain, the day the mourning service was held.

The people of Konoha shuffled slowly to the town square in groups, dressed in black garments, faces worried, frightened and sad. Quietly they whispered amongst themselves, gossiping, exchanging information on the ones they mourned.

"They were such a big clan…how on earth could one man slay them all?"

"Not even a man! Just a boy, really, a genius but a boy nevertheless. And now he's a nuke-nin roaming free out there somewhere."

At that reminder, several people shuddered.

"Does that mean Konoha is weak, now that we've lost one of our biggest clans?"

"Kami, what if someone tries to invade Konoha? We just lost some of our best ninja!"

"There is still one survivor of that clan. That poor, poor boy. Look, there he is, at Hokage-sama's side. He's standing so bravely."

"He looks so lonely. The last loyal Uchiha…"

Standing on a raised dais, the Sandaime Hokage sighed, and glanced down at the raven-haired little boy standing next to him. Only seven years old, yet his large black eyes were as empty as those of the shinobi who had a permanent residence in the mental ward of Konoha's hospital. They stared straight ahead, watching a scene that seemed to be painted over their open eyeballs, hiding reality with something else. Unlike them, Sasuke-kun actually spoke a word or two every once in a while (even if only to the Hokage when absolutely necessary), while those shinobi in the mental wards tended to go into fits. Sasuke's mind had a chance of recovery from witnessing his brother massacre his clan, far more so than those in the mental wards. Though it was doubtful he would ever be the polite, kind, smiling boy he was before the massacre ever again.

'No thanks to you,' a voice muttered snidely at the back of his head. The Sandaime briefly closed his eyes, and just took his conscience's sneering as well as the wave of guilt that followed.

He wished that Sasuke wasn't here for the mourning ceremony. The boy had just suffered one of the worst tragedies in Konoha's history, barring that of the Kyuubi attack. It was far too soon after the event to bring up the topic. Yet the boy had insisted on coming, when he had heard about the mourning service for his clan. He needed to witness it for them, after all. He was the last Uchiha who could do this.

The other one labelled traitor.

The Sandaime took a deep breath, and began his address to the masses. As he did so, he could not help but flicker his eyes warily over the crowd, looking for a head of spiky, dirty blonde hair. He had promised Naruto he would take the boy for ramen today, but had forgotten it clashed with this service. Naruto would probably come looking for him.

Normally he would love to have the blonde boy with him, but the child would not be well received by the crowd here, during such a sad moment of shared mourning. He wasn't normally well received even on a normal day. He wasn't sure if Naruto was even aware of the Uchiha clan's death, if he was aware of the significance of the Massacre. But to try and seek attention with a loud voice, pranks or wearing bright colours as he had started doing a few weeks ago during this ceremony through sheer ignorance of recent events would be the worst thing Naruto could do. He would unknowingly mock Sasuke, accidentally disrespect the dead, and worsen his standing in the village (though his standing was already near the lowest of the low, and it wasn't even his damn fault).

It was better Naruto wasn't here, Sandaime reflected. He would go find the boy after the ceremony, apologise for being late and treat him to ramen (and remind him to eat other foods as well as ramen) while vaguely explaining the Uchiha Massacre. At the same time he would warn him about playing any pranks on Sasuke. Sasuke's mental condition was too delicate right now to be tested with pranks, even if it was from a boy who, while also only seven years old, probably had the same amount, if not more, emotional baggage than the Uchiha child did.

XXX

In a tiny little run down apartment a small distance from the ceremony, the same small blonde haired boy the Sandaime had been ruminating about lay curled up in bed, hidden under a mound of blankets. Ramen with the Sandaime, or 'jii-chan' as Naruto called him, was the furthest thing from his mind. He was cold, so cold, and it had been weeks since he had felt warm. In vain he drew the thick soft sheets closer to himself, yet he couldn't stop feeling cold.

Just a few weeks ago, it had been warm, warmer than his own bed in his own apartment just two floors above this one. The single bed had been one of his favourite places in this whole apartment, lying on it while snuggled up to the warmth of his beloved nee-chan.

And that was why he was cold. His nee-chan was gone. And she wasn't ever coming back.

He was in an apartment surrounded by objects she bought, all of them christened by some memory or other of them spending time together. The place was teeming with memories, most if not all of them to do with her. This should have been a very warm apartment. And it had been, until his nee-chan had vanished.

And her clan was announced dead. All but one. And it wasn't his nee-chan.

No more snuggling up to her warmth. No more nee-chan.

The apartment dropped a few degrees colder. It had been doing that for the past few weeks. Naruto didn't bother turning the heater on. He had a feeling it was actually him, not the apartment, that was getting colder. And no matter how tightly he curled with his blankets, he just kept getting colder and colder.

I can't feel you anymore nee-chan. I'm cold. Come back.

The sky broke just as the service ended, and the heavens wept, its sobs sending bursts of white lightning shattering the atmosphere high above and thunder rumbling heavily through the air, an almost continual hymn of grief. Rain fell mightily, pelting those who had not managed to get under cover yet, the impact almost harsh enough to feel like hail.

Two sets of eyes, one dull black and one faded blue, stared at the storm under the cover of shelter. And both wondered if nature was grieving for them, when they themselves could not properly express the depth of their grief. There was just too much of it.

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