Author's note: Wow...this is unbelievable. Who knew I would be coming back here? I seriously don't know what to say. While writing Chapter 13 of Mathematical Love (which, I assure you, AM HARD AT WORK ON - I'm too excited to show all of you my drastic writing changes) I also had an inner conflict with myself, debating whether or not I was allowed to post a Naruto/Sasuke fanfic when I only just wrote fanfics on straight couples in the long past (alright I'm exaggerating...nearly FOUR years since my last chapter update is the past we're talking about here). I can't ever thank every single one of you for following me and my stories, especially when I would let you down by failing to update a particular chapter :'(

This fic must make it up to all of you, who I have missed so dearly. You stuck by my side through the utter stress...now is the time for me to pay you back with the yaoi I never knew I had underneath my sleeves. My second essential point: [DISCLAIMER] If you do not like boy/boy or slash pairings - or are rather uncomfortable with the idea - I suggest you turn away from this story. There is indeed a main homosexual couple in here, and I will bring my focus onto them when the plot allows. Enough with my lengthy raving! Please enjoy my latest fanfic (NaruSasu seems to be my beautiful obsession this time around) and the enormous changes in my writing style.

~kisses, Yama-chan

Konohagakure was abuzz - restless, undecided, and eager to hear the long-awaited occasion: the successor of the King. It had taken numerous months, no matter how tedious, however His Majesty long since decided that he was ready.

Next annum year was to be a challenge tackled, because no Konoha citizen - not one - ever believed that incompetency existed in their kingdom. Konoha was the most powerful in the state, and presenting an official declaration now would simply strengthen the kingdom's already highly esteemed nature as the all-mighty, the all-knowing, and the all-seeing, out of the Four Lands.

History, though, had a way of presenting itself.

The Four Lands were the four kingdoms surrounding Konohagakure, which was the apex kingdom, in the state: Iwagakure, Kumogakure, Kirigakure, and Sunagakure. Peace once joined these Lands together, expelling the possibility of war. There was the non-existence of conflict. All seemed odious. Perfect harmony was universal. But every peaceful period would touch a violent end.

When the Tenth Great Civil War engulfed the nation the Lands split into two divisions. Konoha loomed alone, with the other four forming the second division, and selfishness had destroyed the universal bond of harmony. Too many lives were torn apart, stranded, broken beyond recognition. Too much blood was spilt. Too much terror. The overwhelming sadness was lethal, an illness. And too many rebellions handed the blame, without hesitation, to His Majesty's great great grandfather: Uchiha Madara.

King Madara was an unmerciful tyrant. He had turned Konohagakure into a pit of greed, and the lower social classes were treated with the utmost disrespect. Favoring his bloodline above all else, he spared the poor Uchiha from his sadism, while the rest were bought, sold and exchanged as slaves. Some Madara had killed because they defied his oppressive demands. He drained resources, broke monetary contracts, initiated unnecessary battles and never gave his word.

King Madara was cunning, arrogant, illiberal and evil, and everyone feared him deeply.

Thus, loathing bitterness towards Konoha - both in terms of power, acclaim and economic tensions - reached a burning high. After the end of the Tenth Great Civil war months later, Sunagakure, the one kingdom that could be considered worthy as Konohagakure's very equal, declared an alliance with the latter. Therefore, the two divisions (one division composed of Konohagakure and Sunagakure) refused cooperation, existing independently.

King Madara's son Uchiha Iji, then Prince Iji at the time, cursed his father and his totalitarian rule, and he ended the King's villainy by offering him a glass of red Cognac, riddled with poison. He rose to the throne, repairing the near irreparable damage to the kingdom that his father had inflicted. King Iji abolished slavery, reconnected social classes, and offered compensation for the unforgivable crimes of King Madara. He built more merchant shops and farmer grounds and additional trade roads that spread to boundless countries...the likes that the Four Lands have never seen. Konoha was once again in rich bloom.

For over a hundred and fifty decades the Kito division (Iwa, Kumo, and Kiri) struggled to seize from Konohagakure a title that they could never hold a candle to as the apex kingdom, and the untimely death of His Majesty's parents created a rift within. He had no choice but to ensure the longevity of the royal bloodline.

As a result Uchiha Itachi was thrust into the midst of royalty all too soon at the the age of thirteen, and the immediate power entrusted to him, including the Uchiha family's undisputed reputation, fueled the growth of a wise and intelligent mind that surpassed years. He had ruled kindly, meticulously, in vera iustitia, for one decade and three years alone.

But...his younger brother had also demonstrated the same conviction, calm, smarts and brevity as His Majesty.

Indifferent to all and devoid of the slightest emotion since the end to King Fugaku and Queen Mikoto's fair, benevolent reign, Uchiha Sasuke, almost of age, was the last living heir who would replace His Majesty when the time came.

And the time is rapidly approaching. Next year annum stands upon their fingers like wooden buttons; by spring his brother's Coronation is to take place.

King Itachi was pacing inside his study, silken robe fluttering behind him and a piece of parchment in hand as he glided, noiseless, over the hardwood floors. Blood-coloured cursive covered the parchment's surface, and the King's fingernails tapped the worn edge of his desk, which was adorned by yam purple spare tapestries that their associate Chamberlain, Shikamaru, had found hidden inside the Masters cabinets.

Itachi wasn't one for excessive luxury. He rather preferred the oversimplification of something that was beautiful, original, on its own, and he also disliked luxurious living in general, thinking it the cause of unnecessary social separation - shoving against one's face a reminder of their place in the kingdom. Unfortunately, as the King of Konohagakure, he knew that nothing could be done to reform this system. Their parents had stamped grandeur throughout all crevices of the Palace, upholding a legendary generation's worth of Uchiha order and opulence, and so Itachi had not the heart to tamper them. At all.

The grand stair could use a little-

Three blunt, hurried knocks from Itachi's door cracked his reminiscing and he sat down promptly with an utter gracefulness that only the Uchiha could manage. The King made not a single rustle of olive robes, and it wasn't surprising indeed.

"Your Majesty-"

"Come in."

This golden door, decorated fervently in rubies and small emeralds (Itachi held back a twisted cringe every time he so much as glanced at the embedded stones), snapped open to reveal vivid pink hair and a basket full of assorted breads in a pair of delicate hands. She stuck her head through, bowed, and blew a strand of pink away from her glimmering green eyes. "I'm so sorry for disturbing you-"

Itachi chuckled mirthfully, waving a non-dismissive, ringed hand. "It's alright, Sakura. I was just taking time to myself." The said young woman, head Pantler of the kitchens, smiled and nodded; it was peculiar to Itachi how the linen maid beret on her head was falling off, much to his amusement.

"Thank you, Your Majesty! But I don't know if anyone has told you already..." Sakura's pretty juxtaposition changed to wariness, lips pursed, and Itachi was aware of a nagging pinch at the back of his conscience. A witch wasn't required to present how obvious it was.

The king never approached his younger brother directly in recent weeks, and Itachi was instead content on leaving him alone to do whatever he desired before kingly responsibilities rendered everything else in his life insignificant.

And then there was their immaculate reputation, constantly established.

His Majesty was frowning, dark eyes tired, and Sakura shuffles nervously, waiting, to say more. Younger brother, did I not advise you, without fail and with sorrow, for so long, about this?

"No need, Sakura. I knew all this time."

"Y-you did?"

"Yes."

"Well, I guess I've been too slow to realize it, then," the pink-haired servant gushed, cheeks doused in fiery red; Itachi laughed again, necklaced bosom shaking.

"You're a flower, Sakura. A flower that has no idea what goes on until the spring breeze passes by them." With that statement Sakura ducked, grabbing a sterling silver plate from the rack beside her, and lent Itachi a warm, toasty bronze baguette. The King sighed in thanks, while past turmoils he had experienced himself during his own reign pierced his memories, unabated and condemned.

And he was purely glad to have Haruno Sakura in his company at that moment. He needed this, more than he had expected.

"You're Sasuke's friend," he murmured ghostly, skilled, precise fingers picking off bits of bread, and seeds stuck underneath the beds of his night black nails. "I fear for him extremely. And I assume you do, also."

"I do, Your Majesty. Since we were twelve, I've been one of Sasuke-kun's closest. Despite his coldness - his thoughts better left unsaid - I didn't back down because I knew that - that I was supposed to be there for him in the future."

Sakura was patient, wrapping an arm around her apron, and she fiddled with the cotton. Cherry pink hair, luminescent and silken, cascaded down her shoulders. Pity ensconced Itachi like a wave, for she was such a beautiful young girl. She was eighteen, like his brother.

But the King of Konohagakure knew better. The kingdom in its entirety knew. They all knew.

Royalty shall not, under any circumstances, develop romantic relationships with the lower class. These transient, arduous feelings mustn't be encouraged or reciprocated. And this harsh rule, reformed to perfection, left many (Itachi had witnessed the tragedies), no matter how devoted - how passionate - in a dark precipice of despair.

Death loomed on the other side.

"You're my brother's good friend, Sakura," the King had repeated, and Sakura looked up. "It is his obligation as Prince to supervise the Court, and Sasuke met...him...simply four weeks ago."

The maiden was silent, apprehensive of the King's next words.

"Uzumaki Naruto is lingering."

There's his name.

Sakura grimaced, as if a rusty knife plunged into her neck and barely missed the critical point. "Yes, Your Majesty. That's what I - the whole Court had inklings before me."

"I'm Sasuke's older brother. His instructor, teacher, mentor, King. And I had known about his...preferences...for a long while - long before widespread suspicion. I just want him to remember. Konohagakure is dependent on his well-being, image, and his choices. The Uchiha name will be lifetimes annihilated. It is not even my decision. Not my choice. This is the practice of centuries of Konoha's royal rule."

Sakura's eyes turned quite watery at the King's hopeless, ruined soliloquy, his tone quiet, yet loud and convicting as it had always been.

In retrospect their conversation was mildly alarming, with a message of urgency and disaster hidden beneath. There was no sign of Prince Sasuke's disobedience; his canoodling and going astray. Not yet, yes, but it was too inevitable.

And Uchiha Itachi, for the first time in a decade and three years, didn't know what to do.

"Oi! Pass the dough! And give some scones to Shikamaru over there, will ya?" Akimichi Chouji, a fairly large, brown-haired jolly young man with a contagious dimpled smile and small brown eyes that twinkled mischievously, yelled to the kitchen pantlers. The newest in the kindred-spirited bloodline that served the Royal Family for years, the Akimichi were known for their inherent loyalty; Chouji, a kind soul, was doing quite well for a first timer, and the King himself had taken a deep liking to him and the extravagant refineries of his cooking.

"Yes, sir," a skittish, blue-eyed young lady gushed, petite hands holding the tray of chocolate scones; she was blushing quite fiercely after being advised to bring it to the Nara, whom she had, coincidentally, stirred the faintest of feelings for. Seeing as her fair skin contained dusty flour blemishes, Chouji paused mid-mix to let out a ringing chuckle. "Aw, Ino, let me wipe the mess off for you," he proposed, grabbing the closest rag next to him and flapping her off, motes of flour swirling dramatically into the rich air. Her lovely face crinkled in subtle disgust and amusement.

"You didn't have to do that for me, Sir Aki-"

"Call me Chouji, Ino. I feel old when people use 'sir' and besides, I'm not even older than you yourself are, aye?" he said, enthused. He was talking to one of the Yamanaka - another reliable, serviced bloodline as honorable as the Akimichi, and they were acclaimed for their provision of quality Maids: efficient, gentle, industrial helpers that the Four Lands envied the kingdom of Konoha for beyond reason.

However, with some of his joviality diminishing for a few moments, Chouji leaned in closer to her, and humid breath gusted against her ear. "I know you want to impress Chamberlain Shika-kun, but the rules of the land apply. His Court rank embalms him as a Royal. Remember...that you can't..." Chouji had not the peace of mind to go on and state what was otherwise known by all, a foreign frown upon his happy face; it was an expression entirely unsuitable for the Head chef.

Ino's fluttery chest deflated immediately, her long eyelashes stuttering, dejected, and Chouji simply wished that he could change the terrible deprivation of things, were he in the possession of absolute rule. He longed to do something worthwhile to change all of this, right arm stirring an egg yolk halfheartedly and staring, anguished, at her.

"I - I know." Her words were nothing more than a hoarse whisper as she turned around and left the kitchen, long platinum tresses swinging behind her clothed back.

Chouji watched her go, a din of unexplained sadness replacing the gaiety he felt only minutes before.

"Get the pulleys right, you idiot!"

The rusty, invading squeak of the gates rolling together ground to an abrupt halt unpleasantly, and golden, sweaty hands, with the sinew of his sturdy arms twisting under the effort, now found it illogically difficult to close the two looming iron walls when he was almost there.

"Even though I'm new you better stop telling me what to do, Kiba!" he growled in frustration at the brown-haired male alongside him, teeth clenched and strong jawline set; moisture ran down his bare back, soaking his linen undershirt, and his black tunic, despite having rolled the sleeves to his elbows, was the next to be claimed by salty, unbearable fluid.

Inuzuka Kiba mutters something inaudible and jousty, but seems to forget his train of thought as the two men preoccupy themselves with one of the worst, taxing jobs in the Palace. The Uchiha family had reinforced the gates using the kingdom's most robust diamonds, iron ore and titanium soon after the Tenth Great Civil War, and the sheer weight of the elements - slabbed atop one another to form the sleekest combination of steel-hard metals - would obviously give the gatekeepers a disproportionately large run for their monies.

When the last series of the gates' piercing screeches stopped to signify that their third shift for midday was complete, they were both about ready to pass out unconscious among the marble floors, and the olive skinned boy, two stark red triangular marks adorning his cheeks, nudged the second with a ragged leather-clad foot, who was currently face down in a puddle of his own sweat, as distasteful as it sounded.

"I can't believe Nara hired you when you're almost always prepared to knock yourself out, Naruto," Kiba exclaims in lethargic disbelief, setting the newcomer onto his lean feet, and the Naruto boy only grins, dazzling, in reply. "Aren't I?" he remarks, good-naturally presumptuous, and swings a playful arm towards Kiba's shoulder. He dodges the attack, laughing merrily, and it is a little strange to see how quickly they got along from the get-go.

Perhaps it was their strikingly similar personalities. Inuzuka Kiba hailed from the same social pool as the Yamanaka and the Akimichi (while the Nara happened to be positioned two classes above); a courageous member of the Inuzuka clan, they did not abandon their faith in the Uchiha as they battled, weathered and hard and long, for the freedom of the land during the war, and as manifold soldiers of Konohagakure, the Royal Family saw no dire shortage of justice across the kingdom. Kiba, however, opted instead to choose a more internal role within the Palace. Unlike his parents and relatives in the isolated soldier force, who rarely provided service these days except in terms of criminal wrongdoing, Kiba desired to involve himself in the luxuries, embellishments, scandals and thrilling mysteries of royal life - a far more worthy opponent to his mundane little years.

Then, there was also the question of the other young boy, who foolishly crossed the Palace grounds as if he were a fly on the wall, unforgivably undetected.

A damned handsome lad for his age, Uzumaki Naruto was the Palace's new gatekeeper. He was hired on an unexpected whim, and assuming that Shikamaru had decided to do a round of the kingdom itself when he spotted Naruto hauling fifty pound bags of jasmine rice onto a donkey cart using one arm back in the village, the Court was grateful for having finally found someone who is, literally and figuratively, up to par with the iron gates of the Palace.

The peculiar whisker-like scars engraved onto his cheeks, brilliant blond hair, and ultramarine blue eyes made him stand out as he worked, setting him apart from other potentials.

He was rather idiosyncratically strong for a commoner, and Shikamaru stood not too far from the young man that day, tactical gaze calculating and sharp.

Approaching Naruto with smooth grace, he nodded, palm resting upon the sheath of the sword astride him.

"You there. What's your name?"

Naruto had spluttered, speechless and confused, pointing a thumb towards himself. "Wait, me? Are you sure? Who are you? Where do you come from? Wh-"

Shikamaru snorted, indigo cape flying behind him in the chilly February wind, and a smile crept up onto his elegant face, already drawn to the boy's charisma.

The Palace needed more cheerful assistants such as this one.

"I'm Chamberlain Nara Shikamaru, Royal Voice to the King, and on behalf of His Majesty Uchiha Itachi-," he ignored the reaction of the Uzumaki, his mouth gaping in shock,"-I would like to recruit you as gatekeeper for the Palace."

"WHAT?!"

A gatekeeper was an asset, Shikamaru continued, enthusiastic that their lengthy hunt for a gatekeeper came to a quick end, and because the King was particularly selective over certain recruits it was required to run a background check on him. The results were...interesting, to say the least.

Naruto was an orphan, seemingly abandoned by his mother and father when he was two; he grew up on his own, attempting to find work wherever he could, and as an outcome he had earned the sympathy and new found respect of the villagers for eighteen years; he was also considered their good friend despite the loneliness he was forced to endure.

The boy is heaven sent, an elderly female baker disclosed to the Nara. He's a determined, courageous, and very warmhearted young man, never failing to give me a jolly time! He's the radiant life of the village! Oh, and you should remember the time when strange assaults occurred here two years ago - Naruto killed a murderer with his own hands! He saved us!

Indeed he remembered the major incident clearly, and it was one that could have made Konohagakure's own citizenhood an unreasonable liability. The Inuzuka were dispatched, destroying a third of the perpetrators that decided their loyalties lay in Iwa and turned against the kingdom, and the conspiracy to assassinate King Itachi was thrown out the window less than a day later. The successful forces reported to His Majesty's Chamberlain, saying there wasn't a single casualty, a few soldiers sustaining minor injuries. The village was safe, Konoha having extended its administration of justice to Iwagakure's assault source, and Iwa's already unstable trades partnership (the only partnership the two kingdoms kept after the war) with Konoha was cut off altogether, making it a huge economic loss for them.

Turns out that, unbeknownst to the Palace, the soldiers were not the sole ones who had executed the slayers.

Naruto, a mere commoner, had killed?

The intuitive Chamberlain he was, Shikamaru noted - through an analysis of the corresponding testimonies he had received regarding the boy - that there was more surrounding the story than the check had supposedly allowed.

There was more to Uzumaki Naruto than meets the naked eye.

And Shikamaru, wanting a better life for him with this once-in-a-red-moon opportunity, hoped he had done the right thing.

The two gatekeepers were dawdling inside the carpeted hallway to the kitchens, much to the tempered annoyance of a tall man decorated in silver linen who was trying, in vain, to read.

"I claimed the CAKES first!" Naruto yells, and pale, white eyes shot towards the young boys, a slight grimace adorning his handsome face as they rowdily passed by. His slender fingers shook with the effort of holding back some childish, bitter retorts about privacy and decency and resp-

"Hyuuga - they're just gatekeepers. Wipe that suicidal expression of rage off your face," a drawling voice remarked, and the man looked up to meet Shikamaru's amused glance.

Hyuuga Neji stood to his feet in a begrudging huff, closing his book and patting his robes off. "If you'll excuse me, they should be considerate enough to give someone a peaceful time for leisure," he snarls, long chestnut brown hair majestically cascading past his shoulders and rounding off in a loose ponytail, looking for all the world as if Naruto and Kiba's disturbance had rendered Neji permanently and perpetually bitter.

Boy, did the Chamberlain dislike the pretentious Prince during his extended stay.

A fourth cousin of the Uchiha family, Hyuuga Neji and his bloodline were, in simpler terms, a more stately, ostentatious version of Konohagakure royalty, and they, like the Uchiha, produced genius - but exhibitionist - heirs, nobles, and Royal Court Heads, which King Itachi found a little disappointing.

To him, the flaunted ego of the Hyuuga might become their downfall someday. Yet again, the Uchiha were as well known for such a similar grandiose reputation.

Additionally, the Hyuuga proved renowned in royal affairs, extrapolating the best beneficial advantages of the Uchiha's rule in the kingdom through trades and relations with the Four Lands, and Prince Neji was here in the Palace to overlook the ceremonial procedure for Uchiha Sasuke's Royal Coronation, as one might have guessed.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes at Neji's dramatics. "You don't see me getting angry over numerous maids cleaning the Great Hall's floors when I want to pass through."

"Well - you would know the feeling if you yourself tried to read," the Hyuuga adds, turning on his heel and stalking towards the Royal Commons, silver robes swishing theatrically, and Nara snorts again, shaking his head in mirth and sarcasm.

"Princes," he mutters, absentmindedly wondering if there were more of Chouji's coconut cakes left, when he hears the rustle of another set of robes moving across the tiles to his right, silent and unfading.

"Nara."

The low tone of the person's authoritative, silken voice makes him look back inquiringly, and of course he was right.

Prince Sasuke had emerged from the Royal Commons, an irked expression dawning on his void, beautiful pale face. He held a violet scroll in his hand, faux fur and red robes framing his lean, built body; his broad shoulders protruded beneath the bejeweled collar he was wearing. The sharp, prominent cut of his jawlines were enough to send a mass female (and male) following into unnecessary hysterics, and as the Prince tilted his head, raven black bangs of hair falling imploringly on either side of his profile, Shikamaru tensed, awaiting his order.

You see, the young Prince was rarely welcoming, and his older brother the King happened to be the more open, and accommodating, of the two.

When one was graced with Sasuke's presence they distinctly remember the cold, biting aura of his movements, no matter how slight (like the point of a thumbtack) emotion his tone contained, and therefore the Court was (irrationally, Shikamaru thinks), afraid of him.

Maybe it was the thick air of superiority, gracefulness and frightening beauty he carried himself with, or the way he would grunt, one-worded, in reply, but either way, Prince Sasuke was a mysterious, shadowed enigma.

No one in the Court had managed to come close to him and peer within the folds of his conscience, as well as read his mere emotions - if he even had any.

Except for one.

In the four weeks since Naruto was hired as a gatekeeper, it was Sasuke's responsibility, as Prince, to supervise the Court's daily affairs, and Shikamaru had witnessed unbelievable behaviour during these events.

At times he wasn't quite as confident himself that he was looking at the same vacant, introverted Prince.

Uzumaki Naruto was courageous enough to exchange even a few words with Uchiha Sasuke, and to the Chamberlain's complete, boggling surprise, the Prince had smiled: a fond line forming upward north of his snowy cheeks as the nosy, intrusive gatekeeper kept on, blindingly bright and talkative, tan hands flailing.

What on earth did the Uzumaki possess, as well as show, that immediately marked him a candidate for Prince Sasuke's first acquaintance? Never before, in the five years the Nara was Chamberlain, did he see Prince Uchiha Sasuke present genuine interest in something a gatekeeper had to offer.

And Shikamaru did consider the possibility that he was going mad.

Unfortunately, this did not hold true.

Prince Sasuke was, in fact, becoming friends with gatekeeper Uzumaki Naruto, and Shikamaru had felt nothing but pure fear for himself, for the Royal Family...for the state of everything in Konohagakure as he scrutinized both of them, the Rule sticking out threateningly in his mind.

Yes, the Nara had no business in knowing the sexual preferences of the young Prince, yet it never did one good to be a close-minded gallstone, and the hushed, gossiped whispers that circulated throughout the Court in the last few weeks confirmed the worst of Shikamaru's suspicions otherwise.

His Majesty himself had disclosed the untouchable secret of his younger sibling to the Chamberlain at the same time the rumours had spread, unstoppable, a forest fire, and Shikamaru recalled his despairing, tinged words.

Please take care of him.

The Nara feared, rightfully, that he was to fail in doing so.

"Have you seen Naruto?" Prince Sasuke asked, dark onyx eyes haunting, flashing in demand, as he stared at Shikamaru and waited for an answer; the Chamberlain could sense the unseen - slightest of the slight - tingle of hope ingrained in his voice, and the Nara was absolutely torn between telling him the truth and lying about the Uzumaki's whereabouts for his own - for Konoha's - good.

A brief period of uncomfortable silence saw Shikamaru replying, his conscience and his mouth disconnected with the sudden impulse.

"He went to the kitchens."

Just as the Nara had expected, Sasuke exits his presence before he could finish his sentence, royal robes flowing like a waterfall; his hand gripped the purple scroll tighter, and Shikamaru thinks he can feel a satisfied echo of an exhale from the exquisite Prince, disappearing as soon as he is gone from the Chamberlain's view.

"Shit."

*in vera iustitia - Latin for 'in true justice'.

Please review! Did you like any element of my story? Disliked anything? I once again thank all of you for reading this new story from me :')! Ahh! ~yama-chan