WARNING: This story contains graphic violence and men engaging in sexual situation of dubious consent with other men. But on the upside there's no swearing!

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A hand reaches out; I believe it's my own. It is reaching for a back that is receding, being swallowed up by darkness. My mouth struggles to form words that will not come, they never do.

I know this dream and yet I am still startled by the feel of his breath on the back of my neck, I always am. I don't yet turn, but I allow myself to pictures his face in my mind. Blood red rubies set in alabaster stone.

"Why do you chase my after my little brother? He's a rather low goal for the container of the nine-tailed fox."

"Because he's my friend. Because he's my brother." It's the same answer I give every night this dream occurs, I wonder what would happen if I said something different, I wonder if I could.

"No, he's my brother. He lives only for me." There should be emotion, passion, in those words but they are a cold and still as the darkness between the stars.

"Only to kill you." My words hiss out from between my teeth.

"Only for me, and you are merely a distraction." His teeth graze my skin, but never break it, some nights I wish they would.

"A distraction from what? Chasing your bloody shadow?" Now his teeth bite to break skin and my ear is left pierced and bleeding. I make a noise half way between a hiss and a growl.

"From reaching his goal. What sort of friend are you to stand in his way?" The blood from my ear runs down my neck and I feel it seep in to the black fabric of my collar. His flat tongue runs through the blood, tasting it, smearing it. I shut my eyes as his tongue probes at the bleeding wound left by his teeth.

"No answer? I'll tell you then. You are selfish and you are weak. You stand in the way of his dreams because you will never reach your own." It is at this point in the dream that I always wonder what happened to our clothes, but it never seems terribly important with his arms wrapped around me and his fingers running down my chest leaving trails of blood in their wake.

"Your dream is be Hokage, but your destiny is to die. Your own father set you to walk that path before you could even stand."

"You're the second prissy clan boy I've had to tell I don't believe in destiny or fate. I will be Hokage because that is my dream and I will bring Sasuke home because that's what a friend is for."

"They you will destroy your friend by forever keeping him from following his dream and end your village by delivering it into the hands of a devil. You live only for yourself, don't try to pretend 

otherwise. You're no better than the demon inside you, no better than an animal." It is here that I always turn and throw a punch at the pretty face I never see. His hand catches my fist and bends it till it presses against my arm. The dry sound of breaking bone and the sickening squelch tearing muscle echo with my first scream through the empty darkness. He jerks my arm roughly dislodging it from my shoulder and spins me to press it against the back of neck. The pain makes me retch and from my eyes hot tears escape.

"See nothing but a vicious animal." At this point one of my arms is still free of his vice grip and as of yet has sustained no damage. I slam it backwards with the hope of catching him in the gut, but he has a free hand as well and he catches my elbow. I see red and a silent scream rips from my body as he uses one hand to rip my joint apart.

Now that both my arms are destroyed he pushes me forwards and I cry out as instinct tries to move my arms to catch my fall. My face hits the cold hard blackness of the floor and I feel a fracture run up my bottom jaw. I open my mouth to gasp for air through the pain and both blood and shattered teeth pour to the ground.

I won't stay on the ground for long and stubbornness forces me struggling to my knees. I am able to rise for no more than a few seconds before a sharp blow dealt to the back of my head by one of his knees sends to me the floor again. This time it is my nose that takes the impact of the fall and blood cascades down my face in a brilliant waterfall.

My obstinacy requires me to try to get up again but he has other ideas. A set of stomps on the back of my knees make it impossible to force myself to rise. The first one splits the kneecap neatly half, but the second is not so cleanly preformed. It carries enough force to rip the patella clean of the ligaments and I cough blood as the feeling of it sliding down my shin takes my breath from me.

He lets me lay still on the hard coldness for a few moments to watch me writhe and struggle to breathe through hurt and blood. Then I feel a weight settle in around me as he lowers himself to his knees. He leans forward to bite the base of my neck, but such a little prick is lost in the pain overwhelming my nervous system from lower down on my body as he pushes into me without preparation or warning.

A third scream, this one unrepressed and brilliant, shatters the silence as he slams harshly into my bleeding body. It's a wonder I haven't passed out, but I suppose it's harder to pass out in a dream.

He yanks my head back by my hair and I notice that the ground as reflective properties I had failed to make note of before. In the reflection I can see my own face contorted with agony and painted with blood. In the floor I can see his face to, too far from the surface to be clear. Only those horrid eyes burn clearly and they are enough to make my heart want to stop.

When he is done he dismissively release my hair and stands. Before he disappears like his brother into the darkness he gives me a kick in the side. There is enough force to break my ribs, the only 

bones he intentionally breaks that didn't offend him first. It is the sharp pain of these innocent bones snapping that always wakes me up.

After that dream I also lie panting, sometimes in my bed alone in the night, something on the ground during a mission not five feet from my team mates, and try to slow my racing heart. I also do my best to cool the heat that flushes my body while trying vainly to ignore its humiliating source.

It's just a nightmare that does these things to me, nothing more than a bad dream in the dark, but as my heart slows and my body relaxes I know the sickening truth – it's my favorite nightmare.

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AN: Who ever heard of studying for their AP Biology test? Most certainly not me. This just a lovely little oneshot written because somewhere I promised to at least try to write another ItaNaru. Perhaps after all my AP tests and final exams are over I'll do something about making this a chaptered story, perhaps not though. -Morana