A/N: With all the recent American episodes dealing with the massacre of Sasuke's family and his quest for power, I felt the need to dive into his head a little. I personally don't think he's "emo", I think he's lost. I think he's actually a lot like Gaara before Naruto got to him. Maybe things could have turned out differently if he'd had someone to intervene immediately after the fact, if he'd had someone like Naruto had Iruka. Just a one shot taking place about a week or so after the massacre.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or anyone/thing in this story.
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"Sasuke, wake up bishonen. Sasuke."
Sasuke rolled over and his eyelids fluttered open.
"Okaa-san?"
No one. He was the only one there now. The sun shone brightly in his eyes and they grew wet. He rubbed at them fiercely with his sleeve, what would Otou-san say about such a display of weakness? No wonder Itachi left him here, he was pathetic.
Sasuke lay flat on his back staring up at the ceiling of his room.
The day after the funeral he'd been summoned to the Hokage's office. The Third had suggested he take an apartment in town, like that Uzumaki kid. The Hokage had told him that the Uchiha Compound would be locked until he was of age. He'd declined. He might be weak, he might be pathetic, but he was an Uchiha, and his place was at the compound. In his father's house.
Sighing, he rolled out of bed and got dressed. His stomach growled. There was no one to get his breakfast now but him. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed two rice balls. He'd eat the umeboshi now and pack the tori-gomoku in his bento for lunch. He sat at the table and ate, replaying past breakfasts in his mind. Right about now his mother would stroke his hair and tell him to hurry so he wouldn't be late. His father would grunt at him to study hard so that he would bring honor to the clan like Itachi.
Itachi...
The rice got stuck in his throat. He closed his eyes and struggled to swallow around the ever growing lump. Tears traced lines down his face. He finally managed to swallow, and then finished eating quickly. He grabbed his school bag and closed the door on his ghosts.
As he made his way to the gates of the compound, he passed Obasan's garden. The tomatoes were ripe, so he stopped to pick one to add to his lunch. He loved tomatoes, and Obasan had always tried to grow them. She was never very successful, but this year one scrawny plant had survived to bear fruit.
He held the tomato in his hand and inhaled the scent of the vine. He came to the realization that pathetic though this plant may be, it had lived while all the others around it had perished. It had grown, borne fruit, and would feed him. He'd have to remember to save some seeds and plant it's offspring. Something that tenacious deserved to have it's line preserved. Thinking about that brought him comfort, and he smiled as he continued on his way.
o-o-oOWARIo-o-o