This story is set in the Naruto universe, the Uchiha massacre didn't take place. Sasuke , Naruto and the other rookies are 13, Itachi is 18. It will also contain a somewhat already established NaruSasu.

Also this is my first fic and English is my second language, so without further ado, here's the first chapter.

I once had this cat, her name was Yomi. She was a good enough cat, a good enough companion if you will. Yomi would sit around the house and keep me company, she didn't prey on mice or birds, neither did she ever leave the house unattended, even though the door was always opened for her-she would just sit and convey all her energy in the oblivious task of being a cat, a little furry statuesque presence placed on a pillow, moving her head or tail once in a while, maliciously blinking while doing so. She also used to greet me when I would come home from the academy.

I'm sitting across from my brother at the dinner table, he still has his anbu gear on. I know he was on a mission, but you could barely tell by the looks of his clothes - they're just a little dusty, no blood, no holes made by sharp utensils, no burnt or chemically altered material, he might as well have arrived from the training grounds just like I did a few moments ago. Right now he's answering our father's questions about his work - my father isn't a prying man, he's just thorough and somewhat mean, so he doesn't pry, he interrogates. Itachi is doing his best at keeping up the conversation, although conversation is a generous term.

"So, Sasuke-kun , how was training today."

I flinch when I hear my name, I hastily look at mom but her eyes are averted to her plate, she laid her guns before I was introduced in the battle, so, for the first time today, I talk with my father.

"It was good, I improved my ninjutsu and my nature transformation techniques keep getting better." My voice is unruly and shaky and it doesn't even sound like my voice at all.

But father just nods, he pickers with his food for a while and then he excuses himself from the table, picks up some papers from somewhere and heads back to the police station.

He only asks me something when Itachi's attitude gets on his nerves. Now, it's not like Itachi is being an impertinent or something, he just can't tell father everything that he would like to know, and rightfully so, considering that his inquiry is not that fatherly. He doesn't mean any harm by it but he is more the chief of the police station then he could ever be a father.

Itachi sighs and his shoulders relax, he smiles at me in that primal uncensored way he does whenever he hushes father back to the station. He won for tonight. He can take a temporary pause from being our father's son. I return the smile, even though I know he has bigger worries than our father's foul mood. And I'm mostly doing it - smiling back, that is – because whenever he's like this it's just like I'm a bacteria an he's a mushroom and we're codependent, and his high spirits need to be reciprocated with my symbiotic share of happiness.

It wasn't always like this, our clan and our village are not in good terms, it strained my brother's relationship with father, but not with me.

I grew up listening to people praising my brother as a prodigy - which he was - and in the last few years this prodigious quality of his was also the only think asked of him to display. He is the string that tethers our clan to the village, he has to be an obedient Uchiha when he's in the hogake's presence, a great leader when he puts that tiger mask on, a perfect son at home and a trustworthy member of the Uchiha clan at home with father. He rarely gets to be my brother, which I know hurts us both.

I remember that when my cat died I couldn't stop crying. I put her in a lavender box, that was my mom's, and I buried Yomi in the backyard. It was a sunny lazy day, but while the funeral arrangements we're made my brother had a serious expression, more to assure me that my feelings were validated than to display regret for my cat. Nevertheless he's faked empathy was appreciated.

Afterwards we went out to get some ice cream and when we got home our father was waiting for us. Itachi skipped a meeting or something and by the time we arrived father was fuming. I don't remember how mad he was, or if he yelled while scolding Itachi, I don't even remember if he scolded him at all. The only think I remember is father telling me something like:

"Stop moping, can't you tell that your brother has more important things to do than look after you? It's just a cat, it did nothing all day and now it's dead, so rest assured, it will keep on doing nothing."

Around then my eyes started to water, I didn't want to cry, not while he scolded me about crying, but I honestly couldn't help it.

"Go to your room."

I went, I cried some more and that was that.

But what made me sad then, what still makes me frown now, is the crude way my father made it seem like my cat failed at being a cat by being a cat. Like the way she chose to express her membership to the feline world didn't suit his standards – his concept of what a cat should be. And for some reason, those last few years, I got the impression that father has similar thoughts towards my brother.

Itachi stands up from the table, the smile is now a smirk – an apparent clue that his big brother mode is now fully on. He raises a brow and looks at me expectantly.

I get up too.

"Where are we going?" I know, but I still ask.

"Training field 23." He answers and we both head out.