Disclaimer ;; I don't own Naruto, all characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. Any happenings similar to those in thee works of this author are purely coincidental, or done on purpose for the sake of the fanfic. Notice that this is a fanfiction. This is purely a work of fiction, nothing more. Enjoy.
A young boy, not more than 6 or 7 years of age, lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at this ceiling. His dark hair lay spread across his face and pillow, damp with sweat and tears. A strangled sob escaped his lips as he rolled over and buried his tear-streaked face in his pillow.
Am I needed in this world?
Is my mere existence acknowledged?
Thoughts ran through the youngest Uchiha's head, questioning his purpose in life, questioning whether or not he was needed, let alone wanted.
Am I a mistake? I must be. Nii-san and father are such splendid ninja… I cannot even compare. I am worthless, pathetic. My existence will do nothing but bring shame upon my family name.
Sasuke sighed. He had brought home his report card earlier that day. He remembered working hard the whole semester to impress his father, and was proud to bring home a report card saying he was number one in every class. When he had showed it to his father earlier, Fugaku had said nothing but the words, "Continue to work hard and become a fine ninja like your brother." These words were disappointing. Was Itachi the only thing that mattered?
Sasuke slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. Crawling out of bed, clad in pajamas, he shuffled clumsily to Itachi's room, sliding the bamboo door open as quietly as he could. Sneaking in, he scanned the room with wide eyes. His eyes lit up, and he hurried forward, finding what he was looking for – Itachi's weapon pouch.
Kneeling down, he hastily, almost eagerly, unbuttoned the pouch, opening it. Reaching in, trying to make as little noise as possible, he dug around in it and pulled out a kunai, slipping it into his pocket. He then returned the pouch back to its original position, getting up and tiptoeing quietly out of the dark room.
"Otouto."
Sasuke froze, stiffening and turning around slowly. "N…nii-san…" he stammered, dropping to his knees to show respect. "I…I'm sorry to bother you so late at night, brother."
Itachi raised an eyebrow, remaining laid in his bed. "Why are you up, little brother?" he questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I… I was… I was just going to the bathroom, and I… I wanted to see if you were asleep yet," Sasuke manages to stutter out.
"I see," Itachi yawned, sounding somewhat skeptical. "Go back to bed, otouto."
"Y…yes…" Sasuke stammered, getting to his feet.
"I... I love you, nii-san," he said.
:Love you too, otouto," Itachi murmurred.
Sasuke gave itachi one last look beforehurrying out of the room, rushing back to his own and sliding the door shut.
Breathlessly, Sasuke sat on his bed, taking the kunai knife out of his pocket and examining it closely. He felt the sharp tip with his finger, letting out a small cry as it cut into his skin. A pearl of blood oozed out and trickled down his finger.
Sasuke inhaled deeply. Licking the blood off his finger, he pulled a piece or parchment out from under his bed along with a pen, scribbling the words I love you on it as neatly as he could. Water dripped from his eyes and stained the paper. Blinking back a torrent tears, he folded the paper in half and left it on his pillow.
Sasuke closed his eyes. I think I will miss mother the most… he thought. She was the only one who would bother to acknowledge me… to say a kind word or two.
Opening his eyes, he gripped the kunai tightly in his sweaty palm. His heart pounded fearfully. He held up his wrist and examined it closely. Taking a deep breath, he firmly slid the knife across the vein in his wrist. He watched in morbid fascination as wet, shining blood leaked out of the wound, trickling down his arm in the most beautiful cascading patterns. Sasuke felt fear, pain, contentment, and could it be bliss?
He bit his lip as pain began to take over, blood flowing freely from the deep gash he had created in his wrist. Slowly but surely, his consciousness began to slip as the world around him flickered dangerously. Eyes fluttering, he fought to stay awake, but the pain overwhelmed his small body. Emitting one last labored breath, he slumped to the ground, pale, limp body sprawled across the floor.
Relief.