Disclaimer: the characters in this story were not of my creation. Parts of the story I'm telling aren't of my creation either. I'm just putting my own spin to get it out of my head, this idea has been in my head for well over a year now. The owners of the characters and part of the plot are Masashi Kishimoto, Tv Tokyo, Studio Perriot, etc.

This story starts off at the Kage Summit arc, when Naruto reunites with Sasuke and catches up to Kakashi and saved Sakura already. They charged at each other with their signature Justus: Sasuke's chidori and Naruto's rasengan. The story diverges from then on - as we all know (I hope) whenever Naruto and Sasuke clash with their justu, there's a huge blast, for the most part. This time, the resulting blast is so huge it destroys most of the area, injuring Kakashi, Sakura, Karin, killing Zetsu's clone and literally blowing both Naruto and Sasuke away in opposite directions, giving them both severe head trauma with a side of terrible physical injury: broken ribs, concussions, pints of blood loss, etc. As a result, both of our protagonists get amnesia. Sasuke has retrograde amnesia and Naruto has dissociative amnesia. You'll see how they're different and how it affects them and everyone else in the story.

All he could hear was the flowing of the water nearby. It wasn't the rush of a river or a crash of the ocean but a light flow of a stream. He would have known if he could see, but the heaviness of his eyelids stopped him. He felt faint as the blood from his body continued to slowly spill out of him. He couldn't even feel pain anymore. He should feel afraid, yet all he was feeling was great drowsiness. He knew if he succumbed for a second, he would never awaken.

Maybe I should -

"Oh my! Misuto! MISUTO! There's a young man lying by the stream! So much blood..." The voice seemed like it belonged to an elder woman.

"The boy is still alive. I can see his chest moving, even if it's just a smidge…no one is ever this lucky…" a second voice sounded like an astounded old man.

"You call this lucky? I can't imagine how much pain this boy must be in…We have to try and save him..."

That was the last thing he heard before darkness overtook him.

His eyes opened once more, his body awakening from warmth caressing his skin. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as intense as before. Eyes fell upon a window to his right with sunlight shining through, the surrounding walls made of solid wood. He felt a softness underneath his body as he lay flat, faceup in clothes he did not recognize. The room was very modest, with only the window, a small night table and what seemed to be a cot with a thin mattress he was on top of.

The door opened, with an elderly woman entering the room. She had a kind face marred with wrinkles. Liver spots decorated her face like freckles would on a young girl. Her hair was combed in a tight bun. She was short and wide, walking over to the cot with a slow but steady pace. She carried a tray with a teapot brimming with a fresh brew and an accompanying teacup. Gently placing the tray on the night table, she peered down on him with concern.

"Hello young man," she greeted. "I am Makoto. For a while, I thought we were going to lose you there. How are you feeling?"

It took him a moment to respond, his throat felt remarkably dry. "Sore," was all he could manage as a response.

Makoto poured tea into the cup and slowly took the cup to his lips, so he could drink. He feebly attempted to raise his head, but the pain prevented him from doing so. The aged woman placed the cup against his lips, tipping the tea into his mouth. It was warm and surprisingly went down his throat easily. When it reached his stomach, he began to feel better.

"I made sure it wasn't too hot," she explained. "It's an herbal tea, the old way to treat pain and severe wounds."

"You," he cleared his throat to speak better. "You, I remember you," he said weakly. "Your voice…"

She smiled knowingly, "Yes, I found you at the creek two days ago. It's a half hour walk from here. You were very much at death's door. I cannot imagine what you had to go through to get into such a sorry state. If you don't mind my asking, what happened to you that put you in such a horrible condition?"

"I… I don't remember." He tried but cannot recall what happened to him. "Actually, I can't remember anything about myself," his chest began to heave in panic. "I don't remember anything… not even my own name." What the fuck? He thought to himself.

The elder woman put a hand on his chest, as an attempt to calm him down. "There, there. You've been through quite the ordeal. While I tended to your wounds, you had very grave injuries all over your body, which you are still healing from. You were bleeding out of everywhere, including your head. Your mind should heal fine along with the rest of your body. But these things take time, you cannot rush it."

"Should? You mean there's a chance I won't regain my memories?" he asked warily.

"Yes," the woman said grimly. "There is always a chance you'll live without regaining your memories, just as likely as the chance that you will. As I said, this will take time. I cannot predict how long, as everyone is different. You should be grateful you're even alive. In fact, I believe you shouldn't have even survived. You living after all that is just short of the biggest miracle in history."

He sighed deeply, "What am I supposed to do now?" Do I have any family? Will they come for me? Would they even look for me?

"You wouldn't by chance, by my family?" he dared ask. Makoto shook her head solemnly, a grimace n her lips. "I'm sorry, young one but I'm not your kin. Nor is my husband. I wish I could help you find them, but without you knowing and us never meeting before, there isn't much I can do. In the meantime, you can stay here with us." The old woman offered. "Us?" he asked.

Just then an elderly man walked into the room, stopping at the woman's right. He put his arm around her and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "Misuto," she said affectionately. "Have you come to check on our guest?"

"Yes, I have," Misuto replied. He took a moment to take in the young man before him. "My God," he marveled at the young man before him. "I can't believe you're still alive."

"He has no memory of who he is or what happened to him," Makoto mentioned. "Not even his own name, poor thing."

"Well then we'll just have to give him one, won't we?" the old man said. "You don't mind do you son?" he asked. The young man shook his head. "It would certainly make things easier if I had a name."

The elder couple pondered for some time lost in thought over a name fitting for the young man in front of them. Makoto seemed to have one, as the sudden expression on her face resembled an "oh!" moment.

"Sutorenja," said Makoto with a smile. "How's that for a name?"

"A mouthful, but it'll do," he replied. "I have a request though. Can you call me Suto for short?"

"You got it, son" Misuto said with a matching smirk. "You're welcome to stay with us as long as you wish." Suto made a motion to object. "I assure you it isn't a burden for us, the company is refreshing. We finally have something valuable to do with our time," Misuto insisted.

"Thank you," Suto said meekly. He couldn't believe his fortune. He may have lost his memories, but he had been saved by an elderly couple who were kind enough to open their home to him. As far as he was concerned, things could be far worse.

The smell of smoke woke him. Nothing else could be felt but pain. His head was throbbing something fierce. As he dared to open his eyes, a brightness blinded him temporarily, as he adjusted to the light of the sun bearing down upon him. Everywhere he turned, all he saw was smoldering forest grounds. It seemed he was in a clearing with ruined trees just mere feet away. All the earth beneath and around him were ash, dust and blackened dirt. Even his skin was dirty with it. He grunted from a quick burst of pain in his forehead. He put his right hand to it, bracing his teeth.

Where am I? He thought to himself. Then he realized, that he couldn't remember anything about himself at all. Not even his own name, or what he looked like. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Why is this happening to me?

Unbeknownst to him, there was a noise emerging from behind the burnt trees that someone was approaching the clearing. Whoever they are weren't friendly as a chant began to reach the hapless man's ears:

"AKUMA! AKUMA! DEMON OF THE IRON LANDS! HE MUST DIE, HE MUST PAY FOR ALL THE BLOOD HE SHED!"

The chant terrified the young man mistaken for a demon. Demon? No, no that's not who I am. I'm not a monster, I can't be.

An ominous chuckle rumbled from within him. That put even more fear in him. It chilled him to the bone.

"There he is - the Akuma!" a large man with a torch pointed right at him. A small crowd of men was behind him, all armed with torches. Every man looked upon him with such abhorrence he forgot the pain in his body. He shot up on his feet and ran as far as his stinging legs could take him. He stumbled as he made his way through the ruins of the forest, running on pure adrenaline.

"Don't let the Akuma escape! He must pay for his crimes!" he heard behind him over his own rushing heartbeat. He dashed like mad through the grounds, hoping for someplace to hide. A rock whizzed by him. The crowd was starting to throw objects at him to try and slow him down. He found a tree and struggled to climb, all the while his body reminding him about the pain he was desperately trying to forget. He whimpered desperately as he failed to claw his way up the bark of the tree.

The chuckle rumbled deeply from within him again, he could feel a smug sense of triumph that he was certain wasn't his own emotion.

Let me help you boy. You cannot face them on your own. It's hopeless. Give in to me…

"No! No, I don't know what you are. I can't trust you," shaking his head violently he was unaware he was talking to himself.

You don't have a choice, after all, you do want to live, don't you?

"There's nowhere to flee now, Akuma." said the large man in front of the crowd. He seemed to be leading the other on the hunt. Torch in hand, another man handed him a rake and pointed it at the Akuma before them. "We will have our justice today."

"What—what are you talking about? Akuma? I'm not a monster," the supposed Akuma insisted.

"Liar!" A third man exclaimed, "You attacked our village two days ago," the others yelled in agreement.

The apparent Akuma shook his head violently, in utter disbelief of the crowd's accusations. "Why would I hurt you people?"

"I don't know the mind of a demon and I don't care to," spoke the leader acidly, "but it was you who hurt our people and destroyed our homes."

"No, I didn't –" the accused Akuma tried to speak, but the crowd wouldn't hear him out. They were adamant in their allegations and ready to hurt, to kill. The hate in each of their eyes was unmistakable. There was no pleading to be had with these people.

You only have moments before they begin to hurt you. Decide now, hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed.

No, I didn't do anything. This isn't me, this isn't –

A sudden sense of déjà vu hit the Akuma, with another crowd appearing in his mind. This crowd towered over him, jabbing and yelling at him. They seemed to be so angry at him that they wanted him to disappear, to die. Much like the crowd standing before him.

Monster, demon!

Akuma! Akuma! Demon of the iron lands!

Why don't you just die? Disappear! We don't want you here brat!

He must die! He must pay!

Go away!

A lot of people died because of you!

For all the blood he shed!

I'm in control now…

The crowd before the poor Akuma quieted and observed the young one they called a monster. His blue eyes turned red. Nails grew into claws and teeth sharpened to one resembling a hungry beast. Gone was the scared young man. What replaced him was the very thing they suspected him of being.

All he knew then was darkness, and then nothing. The last thing he heard was a wrathful roar.

It had been a week since Suto awoken. He regained enough strength to rise from the bed but walked slowly about the humble cabin Misuto and Makoto lived in together. It was slow, but his recovery was progressing well. He got up to the bathroom across the hall from the guest room he was staying in. It was unoccupied, so Suto got before the mirror to begin. As he got ready for the day, he washed his face with some soap by the sink. As he dried it, he took in his reflection in the mirror.

Suto saw two eyes so dark it rivaled the raven hair growing from his head. He had pale skin with an apparent fair complexion. There were bangs along his forehead, his hair of short length yet messy and spiky. Yet, the hairstyle did not take away from his beauty, for Suto was a beautiful, handsome man. It wasn't a look he was expecting.

"Good morning," Suto was greeted by Makoto who was brewing a fresh pot of tea for breakfast. Misuto was sitting at the dinner table, polishing a wooden cane. Suto smiled and greeted the elderly couple. "Good morning."

"Hello young Suto," Misuto said. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than before," Suto replied, gingerly sitting down on one of the seats opposite Misuto. The pain in his body subsided over a few days after he woke. The tea continuously served by Makoto helped with his injuries and allowed him to sleep as well. Makoto also made a residue for the wounds on his body, gradually healing his skin and ridding those angry red blemishes. Each day that passed Suto felt himself regain strength. He was beginning to feel like a new man. "I feel myself getting stronger every day. It's all thanks to you Makoto-san."

Makoto nodded in gratitude, "You flatter me Suto. You're healing all on your own."

"I wouldn't even be alive if it weren't you both. I know I've said it countless times already, but I can't help myself. Thank you," young Suto gushed. "I can't even imagine how to repay you for everything."

"We're happy to do this son. It's been a fairly long time since we've had company in this cabin," Misuto replied, waving away the gratitude. The smile plastered upon the elder man's face was wide enough to pronounce the crow's feet around his brown eyes. He stood up and went over to get his cane. He hobbled over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

"Well I'm off to go to the local markets," he announced. "I'll be back before sundown." he made to leave the cabin.

"Hang on, Misuto-san," Suto spoke. "Can I go with you to the markets?"

"Someone's getting restless," said the old man cheekily.

"I feel it would be better for my body if I walk around a bit. Is the market far?" Suto asked.

"It's a little over an hour away by foot, are you sure you can handle it?" Misuto asked.

"If you keep at a slow pace it should be fine," assured Makoto. "Be careful you too."

"And when am I never not careful?" admonished Misuto facetiously. "Let's be off young Suto."

As they stepped outside, Sutorenja took care to breathe in the fresh air. It was the first time, he'd been out of the cabin since he woke. He had to blink several times to adjust to the sunlight casting down upon the pair. It seemed to be midday. "Try to keep up Suto," Misuto began to walk forward. "Let me know if you need a break."

"Hai, Misuto-san" Suto followed the old man. They made their way to the market at a gradual pace, finally arriving sometime later. The markets were thriving with people, products and business. People of all walks of life, of all ages, seemed to be running around. It was a crowded and very hectic, no one bothered to look at the raven-haired stranger arriving with old man Misuto. Suto went over to sit upon an unattended barrel, set by the docks of the market. In the distance, he noticed there was a bridge. A sensation began to wash over in his brain. It was as if a permanent fog lingered upon his psyche, and for a moment, there was a moment of clarity. Words began to sing to him from years ago...

You'll be bodyguards for somebody...

I'm a master bridge builder and I need to get back to my country even if it means giving up your life...

You didn't say there'd be enemy ninja coming after you...

Sasuke! Sakura! Get ready...

You're making a mistake. You won't be able to keep up with my speed.

Deceiving your opponent, catching them off-guard is the art of a shinobi...

I'm not gonna lose here...cause I have a dream and no one's gonna take it away from me.

I fight for someone who is precious to me; I live for him and I face death for him, so that his dream may become reality. That is my dream and for the sake of that dream, I will act as a shinobi and take your lives!

Suto began to feel faint. So many voices were rushing through his mind, he didn't know how much more he could stand of this. His vision was blurry, and his ears couldn't focus on any sound. It was as if the markets faded away and all these reminiscent voices replaced the area instead. They surrounded him as if he were stuck in the vortex of a tornado of memories.

You always...get in the way...Naruto...don't let your dream die.

No air could reach his lungs. There was a pounding upon Suto's like he never felt before. He could feel someone approach him, but couldn't determine who it was. His mind was too focused upon these visions of the past.

Why did you save me? Why did you do it?

I don't know why I just did...

"Suto, Suto! Please wake up young Suto, snap out of it kid!"

Naru-to. Who was Naruto?

"He's completely out of it."

And who was Sasuke? Was that him, was that Suto?

"Somebody get a medic! Is anyone here a medic?"

Sasuke, the name sounded right. It felt familiar.

"Here have him smell this," someone said. The strongest odor of what seemed like thyme made young Suto open his eyes.

"Young Suto," Misuto stood over him, worry sweating through his expression. Suto found himself on flat his back, the pain in his head subsiding. "What happened?" the young one asked.

"It seemed you fainted," Misuto began to explain. "You nearly fell into the water by the docks. Can you stand?"

Suto nodded as he slowly got up off the floor. The pain subsided from his head and as he looked around, concerned onlookers crowded Suto and Misuto.

"You were whispering things, it was a bit hard to hear due to the commotion," Misuto stated. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes," Suto replied. "I had a searing headache but it's gone now. I was whispering things?"

"Yes, you were, you looked a fright," Misuto said, not looking at Suto but the spot where he collapsed. "It was so eerie."

I didn't have time to think. My body just moved on its own.

Naruto

"What?" Suto asked, snapping out of his reverie.

"You were saying Naruto, I think. You kept repeating it over and over. It sounded like you were referring to a person, perhaps one from your past," Misuto said. He turned towards the end of the market, in the direction of his cabin. "I think its best if we went home. I got what we came for anyway. Are you good to start heading back?"

"Yes, I think so," Suto replied. As they began heading back to the cabin, Suto tried thinking of someone by the name of Naruto. But as much as he tried to remember, he just couldn't. He kept coming up with blanks.

"Misuto-san?" Suto spoke. "Yes", the elder man replied.

"I think my name was Sasuke."

He was sitting under a tree, shivering from the cold as the rain poured upon the land. He wrapped his arms around his legs to try and generate some warmth, but to no avail. His stomach was crying from starvation, he couldn't remember even eating since he woke up the weeks ago. He didn't even know how he was still alive at this point. After the mob chased him in the woods, he blacked out. When he came back from unconsciousness, he woke up alone once more, but in another location. He checked to see if he had been hurt, but apparently, he got away unscathed. However, the lingering taste of metal in his mouth and reddish hue of his hands didn't ease his fears. Especially when he couldn't recall how they came about. He hadn't seen those people since; in fact, it seemed where he awoken the second time was completely different from the previous area. Thankfully, he hadn't heard from that strange voice from the other day since the mob chased him.

Since the confrontation he mainly kept away from people out of fear of being attacked again. He wandered around forests, woods and marshes. He tried catching some fish and failed, finding it exceptionally difficult to catch any with his bare hands. Each tree and bush he walked by would surprisingly lack any fruit or nuts. He didn't want to light fires to avoid attracting attention. As time passed though, the need to go to a town was becoming more of a necessity. If he kept this up, he'll starve to death, alone. He shivered once more at the thought. Dying in solitude. Something about solitude was so familiar yet terrifying. Even more terrifying than angry mobs or demonic voices in his head. And still, he couldn't remember a single part of his past. His name was still coming up with a blank. No memory of family or home, not even a clue. Light was starting to fade from the sky, signaling the beginning of night in these woods. He'd try getting food again tomorrow. For now, he would try and sleep, trying to keep his mind off of the cold creeping into his body. Ironically, animals that lurked nearby always stayed away from the young man with no memories. Yet, their avoidance increased that feeling of loneliness. Not even wild animals wanted to be with him. It filled him with sadness and sorrow...

He dreamt of a town, normal as can be, with families and councils and businesses run by citizens of the town. The town had a park and a lake and a vast forest, along with a school, filled with children. The town was peaceful, and its people seemed to be good. But only seemed, for there was darkness upon that town. Few knew it was there and even fewer acknowledged its existence. This town used people, used pain of a few to benefit others and everyone was none the wiser...

The rays of the sun moved his eyes to open, two hours after dawn. Birds sung a sweet tune all around him as he walked about the forest. He heard a rush of water not too far ahead. He figured he could go and splash some water on his face, then be on his way. He squatted down on by the riverbank and looked up at the sky. There was no indication of rain up above, just clear blue sky and the sun bearing down upon everything below. The light felt so warm; it must be like what he imagines a hug to be like. He turned to face the water below, rushing on past him as the current controlled its pace and direction. He was taken aback by what he saw staring back at him.

He had blonde hair growing out of his head, with matching eyebrows. His eyes were as blue as the sky above him they were striking against his tan colored skin. He had whisker like marks on his face, three on each side. Were they scars? Birthmarks? He touched them gingerly while still looking at his reflection. They didn't feel like scars. He took some water and washed his face several times. It seemed they couldn't be washed away. Whatever they were, it was a part of him like the rest of his body. He didn't like it; it made him seem feral. Like a monster, like the Akuma he was accused of being. He cupped some more water with both hands and made to drink it quickly. When he was finished, he stood up to walk away.

Behind him, he heard someone walking towards him. He immediately felt a sense of anxiety, but the space was so open, there was no time to hide. He turned to look at the person, and before him he saw a small boy. The child was looking directly at him, and he started to panic.

"Hi," the boy piped up.

"Um, hi" he responded. Was the boy alone? Would there be others with him?

"What's your name?" asked the little boy.

"Uh," he uttered nervously, as he still failed to remember his name. "My name is Tasei," the boy said. "What are you doing here?" Tasei questioned. The boy looked at him with curious expression. "I, I – I'm just,"

"Tasei," another voice spoke this time, belonging to a man much older. Behind some bushes emerged a man bearing resemblance to the small boy. They seemed to be father and son. "I told not to wander off -" the man stopped and took notice. "Oh, hello there." the man greeted in a friendly tone.

The young Akuma couldn't speak, as the nerves worsened. All he could think was will they try to hurt me too? Last time, he didn't get a chance to defend himself. He scanned widely around the area for ways to run. The erratic behavior caught the man's attention and piqued the little Tasei's curiosity.

"Where you coming from son?" asked the older man gently. His eyes were different than the others, the Akuma noted. They had a soft sincerity to them, kindness was the word he was looking for. It was a breath of fresh air.

"I," he realized he didn't even know where he was or where he came from. He inhaled deeply out of frustration. He was tired of this constant state of not knowing anything about himself.

"Son?" the father asked again, this time with concern.

The young Akuma started to hyperventilate out of this overwhelming sense of helplessness. "I," he breathed, "I don't know," he started to sob. "I don't know anything; I don't know my name or where I come from or where I live and a bunch of people chased me around for something I don't know and I've been out here for days and-" he stopped, finally running out of air to breathe and speak. The father held up a hand to stop the poor Akuma. "Breathe son, come here and sit with us, we have some food left over from having breakfast," the man grabbed his child by the hand and gestured the Akuma to follow. It seemed that where he was now, the Akuma was finally catching a break.

And that's chapter one! Sasuke's much better off than Naruto, who poor thing doesn't even have a name yet. These are two different types of amnesia that are affecting them and I don't want to get too technical since this is fan fiction, focusing on the characters and their emotional journeys. I don't want this fic to be a slow burner but I feel like it should, because the condition the main characters are in is going to take time for them to get through and I don't want to rush things. Thank you to everyone who has read it; feel free to review if you're up for it!