Okay, I'm going to need the support of at least three to one hundred people to continue this story. Feel free to read and review. Flames, in my opinion, are unnecessary but welcome.
This is a story that takes place four years after Sasuke leaves. Soooo… everyone is seventeenish. Yay.
Disclaimer: A not-for-profit result of teenage angst.
Prologue
Normally, he didn't care what they thought of him. As he made a cut on his forearm, he contemplated the day's events; if they had played out in any other way, would he have barricaded himself in his own bathroom the moment he walked in the door? If he had just stayed where people could gossip and curse his name but he would never hear any of it, would he be lying on the floor at this very moment, brow furrowed?
Maybe not. But that didn't change the fact that he was.
Sasuke cursed as the cheap razor curved on his left forearm, bleeding thicker in some places. He quickly reached for a wash rag and pressed down to stop the blood. The smell made him sick; he thought of the Hokage. Didn't the dobe say she was afraid of blood? What irony for a top-notch medic. Is it irony that a ninja be sick to his stomach every time he inflicted the lacerations upon himself but not on others? Or did it just prove the fact that he was just human?
That didn't matter though. The others in the village, they didn't consider him human. Monster, they whispered. Some didn't even bother lowering their voices.
Did they not realize that he was suffering without their torment? Probably not. The only time the Uchiha bothered show any emotion was… well, it certainly wasn't while he was surrounded by the countless imbeciles. Actually, it wasn't really when he was around others that he knew either. But how exactly did he deserve this? Did his decision – yes, his decision – did it affect anyone but those that he didn't know personally? He tried to think. The smell of copper entered his nostrils causing him to shiver. The rag was stained brightly from the one cut but it seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Slowly, Sasuke stood up; wincing slightly as he used his left arm to steady himself.
He reached for bandages in the medicine cabinet and rinsed out the rag until the pink was clear once more. Blinking back sleep, he cleaned the cut, bandaged it properly, and looked on the bathroom floor for any evidence. To his disgust, a small smirk decided to grace his features. Was he that unhinged? No wonder nobody wanted him around.
Sure, Naruto was happy enough; he had his brother back. He knew things about his family. Pleasant things. He was told by the Hokage herself that when she decided to finally retire, that he was her successor. Naruto had even teased Kakashi about it. Apparently he was supposed to have taken over if anything had happened. But no skin off of his back, Sasuke thought quietly.
Kakashi was nice to Sasuke after a few weeks of his return. The awkwardness hadn't really vanished – Sasuke was still Sasuke but that didn't mean he was immediately forgiven. Words like selfish and revenge-driven (and although he secretly agreed with the other variations along with these, they still stung) were tossed around more than once. Sasuke turned the doorknob hesitantly before shutting off the lights and making his way through the empty house.
Dust coated every inch of the house and with a pang he noticed some items either missing or broken. A few shattered windows, graffiti splayed on his walls, scorch marks where someone had most likely attempted to start a fire. The state of his childhood home, combined with the day's outcome and the already twisted mishaps that had occurred years before, blinded him with fury. His hands reached for a nearby lamp and Sasuke chucked it against the farthest wall, causing an explosion of glass and hate.
Unbeknownst to him, a pair of eyes watched from outside.
What do you think? I know the concept "Sasuke cutting" is very très cliché but… watcha gunna do? This is really short, but prologue people. Give me a reason to continue. Thanks. ^^
