Mordant -- Holaaaaa. Mmm. This is my first fan-fiction... ergsh, it's a bit badd. But, w/e... ummmmmmmm. idk... nyahnyahnyahhhh...kay... uh... enjoy??

Disclaimer -- I don'na own Narutooo. It ish not be mine. I do wish it could be minee... likkeee... -cough-hakuu-cough-kakashi-cough-

Note -- This will contain yaoi... yeshh, boyxboy-ness... SasuNaru, to be exactly. Urmmmm, maybeh others. You've been told.

x o x o

What is the world now? A complex, forever moving place, where time passes too quickly and the skill of multi-tasking has become an art. A place filled with pessimists, critics, scientists- all bent on picking apart every ideal that once was so simple.

Does a thing like agreement exist? When one statement could have a thousand contradictions from logic to dreamers… Beliefs that are questioned, analyzed to the tiniest fragment, and finally cast aside as myth. It's a world now where everyone must have a say, wanting the last word. And it seems that the harder people work to sound smarter than others, to be the one that is 'right', the quicker they lose their purpose for arguing in the first place.

Everything that once was pure, unsullied by cryptic minds, now grow further from our hearts, and doubts now burrow deeper in our minds. The lines between right and wrong have blurred and twisted and mixed into an intangible gray area. No one knows what they believe anymore, because 'on the other hand' is always on the tip of their tongues. Some call this enlightenment, a 'broadening of minds', but how far is too far? Everyone has an opinion for that too.

Please don't get me wrong. I believe opinions are very important, without them, there would be a duller society living today. But there are some things that people shouldn't have to rip apart and talk of until it loses all meaning. Some things that are just better left alone. Untouchable.

Things like faith and hope and, most importantly of all, love. Yes, it sounds cliché, in fact, it is very cliché. But, it's hard seeing love being thrown around so easily, becoming so battered that it's losing bits of its' essence along the way. A word now being used to placate others. A word used to persuade and twist to ones own design. The fact that 'love' had once been such a powerful bond of commitment is slowly fading. Either people use it too much, or they've lost any belief that there is such a thing.

True love still holds a special place in my heart. I still believe that there is still such a bond between people. A strong, never-failing bond, so beautiful it almost hurts. Where you would die before allowing the one you love fall under your own greed or the selfish vices of others. This connection that makes you cry and laugh, makes you feel as if you held the world in your hands, that anything is possible. Where you give someone your all, your very being, without feeling as if you'd be judged and discriminated, and that one person would accept you no matter what.

A long time ago, I met an old man, creased and withered from age. He was a story teller, traveled mostly, walking from street to street, spinning words to make a living. He had dark, shining eyes, eyes brimming with wisdom- of happiness, pain, sorrow, hope, love. I was just a kid back then, just a child at a crossroads, unsure of anything, with the answer to everything.

I don't particularly remember much about that day. It was sunny, I think, typical in my town. I was bored, I remember that. The restless feeling of wanting something, but uncertain of what that 'something' was. He sat calmly on a chair next to my favorite diner, smoking a pipe, the bluish smoke drifting in lazy curls above his head. His eyes were crinkled at the corner and he had such an expression of joy and laughter that I stopped in my tracks.

"Hey, mister, what's so funny?" I had asked, hands thrust into my pockets, keeping a safe distance from him

.The man looked at me thoughtfully before setting down his pipe. He leaned a little towards me and said, "Not much to do? Me too. How about I tell you a story?"

I suppressed a roll of the eyes. Typical, you ask an old person a question, and they start to ard you with their stupid war stories or whatever. I sighed a little and said with a raised brow, "I just wanted to know what's so funny."

The man chuckled and sat back a bit, placing his pipe back between his lips, "I'll tell you at the end of my story, if you'll hear it."

I looked at him for a moment, balancing back on my heels, and 'hmmming' in consideration. I played the part of deciding quite well, taking a couple seconds before actually replying. The truth was, I'd already been hooked- I was curious, and it was something to do. Even if it was listening to some stranger talk.

"Alright, then. I guess," I said with a shrug, sitting down cross-legged in front of him.

He smiled, tilting his head upward, exhaling a ribbon of smoke, watching it twist further and further towards the sky.

"Once upon a time, there were two boys…"