Hi everyone, I'm going to go ahead and say a few things now: First, I do not own the Naruto universe nor any characters associated with it. I do however own any out of character creations and this particular story-line. Second, I will be attempting to make this story longer than ten chapters because I just can't imagine rushing through it so hopefully it's good enough to you all so you'll want to stick around. With all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter and please feel free to review and tell me what you like or don't like!

The world had become nothing more than fragmented voices and dreary blurs to him, and he honestly wasn't so sure if he minded. He had been condemned to death as soon as he had stepped foot into Konoha, and was currently awaiting it in pure isolation. No sunlight, no constant companionship, nothing except the things his ears strained to catch and his eyes tried to make out. He was like a plague, contagious in a way that even scarce contact could prove untreatable, and they treated him as such –sliding his food and water in so swiftly that at times they toppled over and he had to lap it up like a mongrel in his chains. He was no longer a prisoner but a monstrosity, steps below the nefarious but otherwise revered kyūbi, and the Godaime made sure that it was instilled in his brain. Missing-nin were not welcomed in Konoha, especially ones that were once natives to the Leaf -especially ones that hit too close to the heart.

He hadn't ever set out to make friends and admirers out of the faceless masses. He had always had his agenda, specific and singular despite the attempts of those around him. They were ever-changing but he was not, set like a pillar of stone, he was impenetrable no matter what had been set before him. He was not unfeeling, but grudgingly accepting that there was more to him than sarcasm only meant that the floods of anger and incompletion were only stronger. He flexed his fingers, wincing at the surging pain that engulfed his wrists, and wondered if the inflammation was due to some sort of infection. Would they have created some sort of complex chakra damning entities in his cell? He didn't entirely rule it out, but he now knew that he honestly didn't care if he died alone or in front of the entirety of the village –death would be the end result regardless. Carefully biting his tongue just to prove he still existed, he wasn't sure if he should be ashamed at his pathetic need of reassurance or if he should carelessly cluck at the fact that his arrogance had once more gotten him into a less than favorable scenario.

He had returned for truth, and in a way he had been granted it.

Slowly roused from his thoughts, he was suddenly very aware of the chakra levels before him, and barely within a moment for him to ponder, had a sudden rush of natural light all but cause him to recoil and hiss darkly like the savage they made him out to be. He was roughly snatched from the rusted hooks he had become intimately acquainted with and dragged carelessly by the tattered threads of the prisoner yukata they had so tastefully clothed him in as they burned his ruined garb, wincing as their crass treatment allowed his torso and beyond to heavily scrape against the tiled floor. Gravity was unkind to him as he felt the burst of pins and needles spread throughout the physique that he had no longer quite registered as his own. His arms had been strum up and angled, fixing his shoulders and torso into a bare kneel, and he had been left that way –having to eat, sleep, and relive himself all in the very same vicinity. He felt a deadly calm wash over him then, uncaring now that he was finally going to be put at ease–for there were no secrets and betrayals in death, only what he hoped to be a thoughtless, blank abyss.

He was then tossed forward like a ragdoll, his bones resounding loudly throughout the area as he slammed to the ground and skidded for a bit, the rug beneath rubbing a few scraps of bare skin raw and bleeding. Nevertheless, he remained still like a corpse, breathing so shallowly that he almost felt as if he would perhaps not allow them the sick satisfaction of taking his life. But soon his heart began to beat as normally as it could, and his inhaling, though raspy, was deep and constant. He faintly heard a delayed gasp and the sound of a rising form per rustling cloth, but he was far too gone to care about the present. He was losing himself, a web of unmarred darkness bleeding through the glimpses of color his vision had begun to pick up. Soon, everything was the color of a starless, moonless night, and he felt an extreme disconnect from his surroundings. There was no sight, no touch, no smell, but there was sound. Yes, slipping through the cracks he could not see, there were voices..

"You may speak now," Hard, unapologetic, feminine- that was the voice of the Godaime, "But do not concern yourself with such filth."

"Please, Tsunade-sama," Soft, airy, prestigious- that of which seemed barely familiar, like a lyric of a song heard only in a single passing, "release Uchiha-san into my care."

A snort. "Foolish child, I ca-"

"He is my betrothed, and I am here on his behalf to plead for his life."

There was a dark, stunning silence then.

"Hinata-chan-"

"Once more Tsunade-sama," Slowly drawn out, each syllabus well executed and thought out like that of a musical masterpiece, "as the heiress of the Hyūga, I, Hyūga Hinata am here on behalf of Uchiha Sasuke to plead for his life. If, and when, released into my custody his body will be handled according to clan rules."

"But-"

"Being betrothed to the heiress of the Hyūga dynasty means that his handling falls into our jurisdiction, an agreement that has been set into motion during the earliest of Konohagakure's beginnings. Hyūga matters are to be held and handled by the Hyūga Council unless it is suspected to fall under treason as is written by the hand of the Shodai Hokage, Senju Hashirama-sama."

"…I see. Tread carefully Hinata, I pray your resilience is as ample as your heart."

Curiosity roused the Uchiha into almost true consciousness, though his mind could not completely comprehend the meaning behind the words.

"His life is no longer of consequence to me then, dismissed."

And then, he was met with a disquieting quiet where even his subconscious was denied entry.