Floating

The ship he had been on had been attacked. It had come out of nowhere. One minute the boy had been enjoying a slopped together meal of mushy looking food, and the next he was fighting for his life. He hadn't even heard the pirates board the ship, but he definitely heard the screams of pain, the shouts of warning and, most disturbingly, smelled the stench of burning flesh. He'd run up on deck as fast as he could, but the mere number of the pirates had been to much for the meagre crew the ship had aboard.

With the smoke rising up to sting his eyes, the boy had fought with the cheaply made cutlass he had been given with all he had. He swung, hacked and parried as best as he could with the little training he'd had. He got cuts and bruises, his skin blackened slightly from the fire. With a final thrust of his sword he took down the last pirate in front of him. Looking around he saw that the pirate's ship had fled, though he didn't know why. Not until he took a good look around and realised the ship was sinking, fast. The fire had burned the upper deck, and what little of what was left of the sails were hanging in tattered shreds around the wooden poles that had once been used to support them.

The boy turned in a slow circle, horror clear in his crystal blue eyes. His mouth opened, as if to yell, but only a quiet croak emerged. His throat was so sore from the smoke inhalation that he could barely even force words out. He scowled and ran across the deck and searched for any survivors. He could hear some noises from below, and as he turned to follow them, a stray piece of falling wood, singed off from the fire, fell onto his head, splitting open his forehead, and knocking him unconscious.

He awoke the first time to find himself completely submerged in water. He instinctively breathed in, and started to choke as the water entered his lungs. He pumped his arms and legs as best as he could to reach the surface. However as the ship sank, it created a pull in the water, effectively stopping him from making any progress. He kicked his feet and paddled his arms furiously hoping to be free from the watery prison. His vision was starting to get cloudy and his legs and arms were starting to slow down. He could barely make out the light on the surface as he tried his best to pump his arms.

Finally, after he had almost completely blacked out, the boy surfaced coughing out water and taking in as much air as he could. His lungs burned from the combination of the fire and the saltwater. He coughed again, and suddenly all his muscles felt too tired to move and he was starting to feel light headed. He squinted his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun against the water, and noticed a piece of wood he could use as a kind of raft.

He paddled the best he could towards the drifting piece of wood, and when he was close enough pulled the raft towards himself so he wouldn't have to swim. He collapsed as soon as he'd pulled himself up and onto the raft. He lay there, breathing in and out slowly regaining his breath. It still stung his lungs but he ignored that for now and focused instead on the continuous repetition of his breathing. In and out, over and over until his muddled mind forgot about listening and just drifted; slipping into sleep. He slept for hours, the raft drifting on the water as his confused thoughts drifted through his dreams.

The boy's golden hair was plastered to his face and his unconscious form had no protection from the undulating waves and harsh rays of the sun. The saltwater stinging his various cuts, and if he were awake his head would have been throbbing from the gash on his forehead. He was strewn haphazardly across the raft, his legs from the knee down barely even on the piece of wood.

The sun was just dipping under the horizon, painting the sky a myriad of colours and casting shadows across the rolling waves. A shadow reinforced as a ship crossed over the water, gliding as if the waves heeded no problems. There were shouts, and orders issued from on board as they spotted the boy, decisions were made and finally they decided to let down a lifeboat with three people; one to issue orders, and two to paddle. They were all men.

The two paddlers had brown hair, held back by some kind of headband. One had shorter hair and one longer. The one with shorter hair had red triangle like shapes painted onto his cheeks, while the one with longer hair had red swirls painted on his. The man with the red triangles on his cheeks was wearing a white top with short sleeves with brown paints and boots. The one who had swirls wore similar clothing though larger in size as the man was slightly overweight.

The man standing in the forefront of the small vessel and the one 'in charge' also had long brown hair, but it was pulled back from his face in a loose ponytail. His pale lavender coloured eyes were calm, and he wore a loose fitting white shirt with black pants and boots. The only major similarities between these men were the swords at their belts. They looked as if they were well crafted, and something about the way the men moved, even in the confined space of the lifeboat, it was obvious that they weren't just there for decoration.

As soon as they reached the boy they studied him, though they all tried to do it surreptitiously so as not to alert the other to what they were doing. The boy was actually quite beautiful. With whisker like scars, (three on each cheek) he was different from all other people. His bright hair, his tanned skin, the way his mouth was open slightly showing off his white teeth, and just the overall feeling of ease the men got from him was slightly overwhelming. They must have stared at him for five minutes before they realised that they were supposed to rescuing the poor kid, for surely he couldn't be a day over fifteen. Sixteen, thought the man with pale eyes. At most, there's no way he could be any older.

They lifted the boy carefully and as gently as they could into the lifeboat and paddled back to the boat. When they'd finally re-boarded their ship, they waited patiently for everyone to crowd around to get a look at the boy in Kiba's (the man with triangles painted in red on his cheeks) arms. They, too, were at first stunned at the beauty of the boy and the feelings they got just from looking at him. However they seemed to snap out of their revelry much faster than the other three men.

Someone cleared their throat from the back of the crowd and they parted as if there was some magnetic force that coerced them to. A man with dark ebony hair, and cool black eyes walked forward. He wore a blue shirt under a black coat with silver threading that ended a couple of inches above his knees. His boots and pants were black. He walked confidently and gracefully down the aisle the sailors had made for him. As he neared the end, he studied the still unconscious boy in Kiba's arms.

A frown appeared on his face, "Neji, your report?"

The pale eyed man answered him, "Nothing much to say Captain. We saw him floating in the water and lowered one of the lifeboats to go get a look at him. We have just now returned with him. That's everything Captain."

The Captain nodded, "Very well. Take him below and have Tsunade look at him."

The pale eyed man, Neji, turned to the slightly overweight boy who had been on the boat with him and said, "Choji, please accompany Kiba downstairs and make sure nothing… happens."

Choji nodded his head and had just turned to motion Kiba forward when a small groan was heard, and everyone turned toward the blonde boy expectantly. His eyes fluttered, and his head turned to the side, burying it in Kiba's chest. The man flushed, and moved his arms away from his chest causing the boy in his arms to flinch and roll out of Kiba's grip. He slammed into the ground with a yelp. His eyes flew open, and he peered up at Kiba with large blue eyes.

"What'd you do that for?" He croaked his voice rough from saltwater, smoke and disuse.

He closed his eyes again and tried to steady his breathing, his hand reaching up to gently prod at the gash there. He winced, and let his hand drop back to his side. He opened his eyes again, and looked around at all the faces crowded around him, still looking at him expectantly.

"Can I help you?" He asked his voice still quite rough.

They all just stared at him, waiting for something else to happen.

"Do you guys understand me? Or are you just ignoring me? It hurts to talk you know." The teenaged looking boy told them as flippantly as he could in his state.

There was a low chuckle and the boy turned his head towards the sound. He studied the man standing there, dressed in his nice clothes when everyone else was either wearing something old, dirty or ripped.

"You look like a bastard." The boy told him, and found that after he'd said it he didn't feel the need to apologize. Different from when he'd used to let his mouth start moving without his telling it to.

The man frowned at him; his eyes darkening if that were possible, "You shouldn't talk to the ships captain like that you idiot. I'm the one who decides whether or not to throw you overboard."

The boy rolled his tired eyes and didn't reply; his eyes slipping closed even as he realized something important.

"Hey, bastard what's your name?" He asked in a voice thick with sleep.

The captain scowled and replied, "It's customary for the person who asks to give their own name first."

The boy smiled slightly and said quietly, "It's Naruto Uzumaki, you better remember it."

The captain grunted and said, "Sasuke Uchiha."

The blonde nodded slightly in response and just before he slipped into the world of sleep replied, "Nice to meet you Sasuke."