Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Discworld.


Author's note: Operation split 'em up underway.


Chapter 2

"Shinra Tensei..."

...

...

A...

...tion...

..min...

Abom...

...tion...

Abom...nation...

...Abom...ina...tion...

...Abomin...ation...

A mouth spoke.

"Abomination."

And elsewhere, words were writ onto the living testament.


The world is a place ripe for exploring, said no one who'd ever lived through a war and just wanted to sit down and have a nice cup of tea. And for someone whose entire life was one long back to back sequence of betrayals, tragedies, and mind boggling -not to mention eye popping- revelations, Sasuke had pretty much exhausted whatever wanderlust he'd ever had.

But no, life wasn't done with him. Destiny wasn't done with him. Hell, literal gods weren't done with him. Then why'd he expect that blond haired utter idiot to be done with him? Oh Naruto, let's go enjoy a nice bowl of ramen after I'm out of this stupid cell. He'd meant to ask him that. He'd even planned to be his lifetime ramen supplier, it was the least he could do for the blond for ensuring that he remained safe and hadn't been dissected. Especially with Orochimaru slithering around the corner.

And it wasn't like he was buying his friendship or anything. No, not that. Totally not that. Despite it being so much easier than actually having to talk to the idiot, and maintaining a correspondence, and standing his badgering.

No, he'd never take the easy route. Despite how stress free it would make his life.

But then again, all that Uchiha cash was just lying around gathering dust in the vaults...

Sasuke looked at the ceiling of the room with a sour face.

What cash now though? He was as poor as a beggar. No, he was poorer than a beggar. And had poorer prospects of making money than a beggar.

Sasuke ignored the girl who'd entered the room and started speaking to him in gibberish.

Language was another one of his problems right now. He didn't understand a bloody thing these people said. So he'd kept quiet and acted like his usual self. It was an art he perfected in his academy days. He was always proud of that. Naruto would've called it his natural asshole-aura or assholery, but what did he know? Did he know how long he'd stood in front of a mirror getting his face to look just the right amount of menacing?

And now that idiot would never know.

Because he was fucking dead.

Dead.

Capital D.

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Thanks for all the memories idiot. Would've loved to see whatever diabolically stupid plan you had, but hey life happens.

Or in this case death happens.

The girl continued rattling gibberish at him. Sasuke turned and stared at her. She was the one that had found him and had apparently taken the role of being his caretaker. She would come everyday with new bandages and some kind of liquid medicine. Then they'd begin their daily ritual of him being stubborn and demanding the bandages, and her glaring at him and pointing at his stump and then poking him.

"Ow."

Ah, she'd poked him.

"Ow."

Didn't she know he had injuries and burns all over.

"Ow."

She gave him a challenging smile and gestured that she'd stab him with pokes a million times over if he didn't let her change the bandages. She did so by rapid poking the air. And then-

"OW! That hurt!" he flinched and glared at her.

"Ovv! That hvut!" She made a mockery of and butchered his language.

Sasuke scowled at her. Was making fun of the crippled an accepted form of amusement in this place?

What kind of messed up world did Naruto throw him in.

Sasuke sat up sullenly and threw his shirt away and stared away as she grinned and began unwrapping yesterday's strips.

As she did this she began chatting amicably with him again. A one sided chat. He suspected that she only talked to him because he couldn't understand her. She'd often speak to him and then giggle to herself, and then she'd abruptly stop, and then she try to make her giggle rough and deeper. She also walked weird for someone wearing a skirt.

Was she trying to pass off as a guy or something?

Ah, who cares. He didn't give a shit.

He peered at her with a squint. She had a frown on her face and was delicately peeling off the gauze on his stomach. She winced when the injury underneath came to light. Dabbing a cloth in the medicine, she began running it over the damaged flesh.

Sasuke didn't understand one thing. Why'd she give a shit about him? This couldn't be generosity.

Generosity to strangers consisted of a polite smile, some kindhearted care and then distant well wishes.

This? Coming up to chat with him at least twice a day, changing his bandages everyday, showing him weird stuff she'd find, and get coming up to him and sharing some kind of frothing alcoholic drink. It looked like beer but he couldn't be certain about the taste. Oh and then she'd belch and scratch her head, grin lopsidedly, and guffaw.

Her expressions said, "heh, wasn't that funny? A good belch between friends after some good drinks?"

He'd give her a flat look.

"It is... isn't it...?" said her body language. Her eyes would become more unsure and her smile uncertain.

Sasuke would bite down his smirk and look exasperated.

"Oh my gosh... I'm making a fool of myself aren't I...," she'd purse her lips and stare down with a sigh.

At which point he'd let out a chuckle at her expense and she'd glare at him.

But despite all the smiles and laughs and glares and grumbles... this wasn't generosity. He of all people should know what that meant. He'd known the dobe after all. And even the dobe wouldn't try to act this friendly.

Not unless he had some other goal in mind.

Ramen...

So, what's her angle? Sasuke thought as she wrapped the last of the bandages around his chest and stepped back. She inspected her handiwork and nodded to herself before she smiled at him and left the room.

Sasuke counted up to three.

She popped her head back in, gave him a bright smile and then closed the door after her.

... yeah, she definitely had an angle. Smiles like that directed at him always meant trouble. He'd learned that from his fan club, especially from Sakura and Ino. Come to think of it, maybe Naruto too... and Orochimaru... those two were practically half woman. And... and... Madara? Even he'd become a woman at the end there, right?

Sasuke then valiantly tried to avoid thinking of his brother and his luscious locks which shone with his every hair flip. He didn't think he could handle any more post fratricide revelations.

So hungry... man...

Shut up, inner Naruto. Sasuke ran a palm over his face and groaned. He hoped he wouldn't pull a Kakashi and start gorging himself on ramen in the dobe's memory. He didn't have a convenient plot device in his stomach to regulate his body fat.

"Yeah, I'm gonna ignore you alright," Sasuke spoke under his breath and stood up. "Just don't want to go off the deep end yet. Not when I don't even know where I am. Maybe I'll accommodate you after that."

Silence was his answer.

Sasuke mentally shrugged. It was better then a confirmation of his crumbling sanity.

Sasuke opened the closet in the room and stared with disdain at the condition he'd been given to step out of his room. His eyes fell upon a faded brown blouse and a dark green skirt that would probably reach till his knees.

He scowled. He really didn't want to wear it but he'd been cooped up in this room for five days. The first day because he couldn't move worth shit. The second because of the incident. And the last three of them because he'd still had more pride than impatience.

Today, the Uchiha swallowed his pride and picked up the blouse. He'd normally not give a damn and strut wherever he damn well pleased, but he didn't want his benefactor to get into trouble. And after the incident he didn't really have any option other than maybe using a transformation. He didn't want to chance a transformation over a damaged chakra circuitry, he'd need to train again before he went around using jutsu.

Sasuke grumbled and slid the cloth over his shoulder and bitterly noted that it fit him quite perfectly. He then sniffed the air and made a face. Damn, he smelled like daisies now. Why the hell was it perfumed? He was a ninja, he didn't need assistance downplaying his masculinity. But the girl didn't know that. Must've thought she was helping him. Or in this case, herself.

The ninja then looked at his pants and then at the skirt. Well, he was back in that phase of his life then. The last time he'd been here he'd gone insane and tried to be a ballerina. Hopefully this time he'd have his wits about him.

Sasuke sighed.

Well, at least the dobe wasn't here to see this.

You know... you want me babe~

...

Kakashi should've taught him how to chidori one's inner demon.

But that's probably just electrotherapy.


"One more fer me lassie!" a voice shouted out slamming a mug on the bar before a skinny girl with blond hair, snapping her out of her reverie.

Polly grabbed the mug, turned around and twisted the tap of the keg, letting the beer flow into the mug and froth its way upwards.

"Say, you got a new gurl round 'ere?" said the man, leaning on the counter and picking at his teeth with his pinkie. "Ol'Jammer's quite taken with the delicate thang."

Polly turned to him in confusion. "New girl, sir?" She passed him his mug.

The man grinned at her, Polly wished he didn't, his smile left much to be desired, namely half his teeth. "Ya, in the lobby of yer Duchess. Gurl with dem short hair. Looks ready to bite his head off. Isn't that what you youngins call aah, what's it called." The man turned around and yelled at a table of men playing cards.

"Hey Fred! Wha's it called when a woman hits ya but likes ya!"

"Wha? Hits what?" A man at the table turned around and shouted back.

"Hits ya but likes ya!"

Fred scratched his chin, "I... think false torchlighting?"

The toothless man turned to Polly with a triumphant smile, "yes! False torchlighting!" He blinked and looked around when he found no barmaid listening to him. "Ha? Where'd she go off... oh well." The man shrugged and went over to Fred's table with a lop-sided grin. He was drunk enough to win today for sure!

Polly's mind was racing as she ran as fast as it was generally accepted that a young lady could. She didn't think he'd put it on without telling her! Sure she'd asked him to do that, but it really was him who gave her that idea, and then again it was because of her that he had to give her that idea.

Young unmarried women were not supposed to bring home men.

But he was bleeding and possibly dying and she couldn't find her father anywhere.

And with the abominations being what they were... she didn't think people would help him until after they'd consulted the testament, which, given its length, could take quite a while. And then they'd check again just to be sure. After that they might ask their neighbor as well just in case they might've missed something.

He wouldn't have lived that long.

So she'd snuck him in. Snatched a bed sheet from a room in the inn, got a cart, stuffed him in, covered him and then wheeled him to her room.

And then there was her cousin, her drunk and useless cousin, who just happened to be sprawled on the stairs and had seen her haul the man up to her room.

Polly scowled, things would've been a lot less complicated if she'd been more careful. Her grip on the club, which she'd picked up in case she might need it and which every pub had under the bar, tightened as she recalled what'd happened.


The boy had just woken up and was scowling and glaring at anything within scowlable distance. Which currently included her.

He was studying his surroundings, which included her bed, her closet, the picture of the Duchess watching them, and the curtain which she'd somehow managed to nail to the ceiling so that he'd be covered from view in case anyone decided to pop into her room.

She'd seen all his scars, burns and the story his injuries seemed to tell. He was a soldier, she was sure of it. Even her father had wounds like this, the ones you get from being cut by a blade, the kind that forever leave a mark on you. But this boy, much much younger than her father, had them a hundred times over.

And his hand... she'd almost screamed in surprise when she'd touched his sleeve and her hand fell through.

Was this what she had to expect when she went through with her plan? To lose a limb or two? She always knew that soldiers never came back in one piece but this was the first time she was seeing a freshly injured one. Oh Duchess, it must've hurt.

The boy turned his attention to his stomach, which she'd dressed in gauze and some ointments she'd found. He twisted his shoulders and bit back a scream.

"You really shouldn't move!" she hurried to say. "There are nasty cuts all over," she said, sitting before him in a chair.

He pursed his lips and nodded slowly at her.

Then his stomach let rip a mighty growl and his face morphed into a scowl.

She giggled, stopped, corrected it to a chuckle, and pushed a leftover bread loaf from the kitchen into his hand.

He stared at it, looked at her, and stared back at it. Then he placed the bread on the bed and ran his finger over it in the shape of a square. She gaped at him when he pinched the bread and a piece of the exact shape came into his hand.

"Y-You have to teach me how to do that!" she blurted out with wide eyes. He raised a brow at her. "I-I mean after you're well of course," she said.

He scoffed.

Polly pursed her lips. Why wasn't he speaking?

The boy then smiled charmingly at her and held out the cut bread piece to her.

Polly's eyes widened again. Oh dar- Oh damn, not a flirter. Or was he a romantic? She didn't know which was worse. One had their head in the mud and the other had their head in the sky.

She felt unsafe without a club right now. Maybe this is why you shouldn't bring random boys home.

She gave him a shaky smile and eyed the door. She'd take his offering and then make some excuse and get away as fast as she could.

"Thank you," she said brightly, and took the piece and chewed it. "Mmhmm, this is good," she hoped she didn't sound nervous. "Ah, look at the sun! There's some things in the kitchen I've got to..." Polly stopped talking, his face had changed.

A grim and satisfied smile replaced the charming one as he picked up the loaf and tore into it. His eyes passed over her in disinterest and they darted around the room again.

They'd changed the second she'd swallowed...

What?

He turned to her, possibly sensing her confusion. He pointed at her, then at the bread, then at himself, and then drew a line over his throat with his thumb. He smirked at her and bite off another chunk from the loaf and ate it.

Polly stared at him with a frown. What did he mean? Well, she was the one who'd saved him. And gave him food. He was the one who woke up somewhere he didn't know and... took food from some girl he'd never seen in his life... during a war... and he was possibly a soldier...

Polly blinked as it dawned on her. Did he just use her as a food tester? Her hands bunched up and she felt like giving him a piece of her mind. Why would she go through all the trouble of carting him to her room just to poison him, did she look like who poisoned people in her spare time!

But she stopped herself before she actually blew up on him when she realized something else.

Actually... that was pretty smart of him. Though she might not want to tell him that given the way the boy was radiating smug off of him in waves. Now that she understood why he did that she could understand his reasoning.

Woke up in an unknown place. Some girl is watching me. I'm bandaged and apparently taken care of. I don't know where I am, can't trust anyone. I am hungry. Girl smiles at me and offers me food. Again, can't trust anyone. Girl looks like a civilian, I know I am handsome. Use that. Smile at her, show her I am grateful and force a piece of the food on her. Watch closely as she eats. Good. She didn't hesitate to eat. Mustn't have poisoned it.

Polly looked sadly at the floor... she had a long way to go if she's to be soldiering anytime soon. She doubted if all that would've occurred to her.

...it didn't matter. Good or bad she's going to go through with what she'd decided. She'd learn along the way.

But...

Polly recalled the calluses of his hand and looked up at him, still biting through with a bored expression on his face. He must have more soldiering wisdom like that tucked inside him. He could... teach her. Or at least she could observe him and learn from his actions.

Polly felt a smile creeping up her face. She learnt how to be a boy by observing, right? She could do this too. Yeah, yeah, she could do it. And the more she saw him the more she'd learn to think like him.

She should keep him! Squeeze him till he had nothing left to show off! Polly blinked rapidly and her ears reddened. That thought didn't come out right...

Anyway, better ask him his name.

Polly waved her hand in front of him and he turned his eyes to her. "So, what's your name? I'm Polly Per-"

The door slammed open. Her eyes shot up in panic and she dove in front of the boy and spread her arms out, despite having no hope of blocking him from view. The boy let out pained grunt. She'd apologize later... if there was a later.

"See!" said her cousin Vlopo barging in with his ever present bottle of beer in his hands. "I told you she'd dragged in a boy for a little rustle in the haystack!" said Vlopo pointing at her with an 'aha!-I-caught-you!' smile.

Polly's eyes became horrified when her father trailed after Vlopo into her room. He looked at her with a confused frown. "Polly?" her father said, "what's going on? Who is that?"

Polly hurried to reply, "This isn't what it looks like! H-"

"Oh right! Just wait till Father Jupe hears about this!" Vlopo grinned. "How could you Polly? Who'd have thought you'd commit an Abomination unto Nug-"

"That's enough Vlopo," said her father cut him off harshly. He turned his serious eyes on her, "Polly, who is this young man?"

Polly tried to think up an answer. All she came up with was, "S-Someone I f-found." If she could, she'd have murdered herself right then. Someone she found?! That's just giving her cousin even more fuel!

"Oh. Found, eh?" Vlopo grinned. "You know babies are an Abo-"

"Vlopo! Would you shut up!" her father roared at him, and Vlopo shrunk away against the wall with a panicked face. "One more word and I'll throw you out!" said her father.

Her father whirled back at her and stepped closer. Polly felt her heart pound against her chest, her father didn't look as angry with her as he did with Vlopo, but her heart still pounded away, hammering inside her.

"Polly," her father said, gently. "Just tell me what's happening."

Polly gulped. She really didn't know what would happen if she told him. She glanced back over her shoulder to see the boy's reaction to all this and her eyebrows rose.

He was shivering against her. His eyes were darting between her father and Vlopo, as he clutched onto her back. He seemed to shrink into himself, as if the whole world was out to eat him up. "Are you okay?" she heard herself say, his frazzled face shot up to hers. Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment-

He smirked.

"Polly?" her father eyed the boy behind her and stepped closer. He reached out a hand to her shoulder, "is everything alright?"

She heard the boy take a deep breath and-

"KYAAAAAAAAA!"

He let out the most high pitched scream she'd heard in her life.

Her father snatched his hand back as if burned. He shared a bewildered look with Vlopo and stared at the boy, who was now sobbing a river into her blouse.

Everyone was confused. Her mouth was opening and closing. Her father looked like he'd just lifted someone's skirt by accident and felt ashamed. Vlopo looked like he needed his ears checked.

Polly yelped when the boy dug his elbow into her back and glared when she looked at him. He gave more feminine boohoos and elbowed her again.

Heeey, feminine... the clever bo-,the clever bugger.

Light appeared at the end of the tunnel for Polly.

"Dad! Vlopo! Out! Out with you! Now!" she yelled at them with female outrage.

"Wha?" the both of them blinked owlishly at her.

"Can't you see the poor thing behind me is practically naked! She's had a hard time! You two don't need to make it worse!"

"She?" They both blinked at her again and craned their neck around her in their confusion.

The boy wailed again and clutched her around the waist, pulling himself closer and sobbing like no tomorrow. Polly felt blood rush to her face. This was a little much...

"Get out you two!" she screamed, this time for her own sanity.

Her father began, "but Poll-"

"Ouuuut!"

Polly snatched her shoe from her leg and threatened to fling it at them.

The two men quickly filed out, each eager to be the first to leave.

Polly quickly stood up, leaving the boy's grasp, and shut the door to her room. She sighed and wiped her forehead. Thank Duchess for that. That was one disaster averted.

"You know you'll have to follow up with that," she said, leaning back against the door.

He raised an eyebrow, wiping away his faked tears with his hand.

"So... what's your name? I'm Polly Perks," she said. She opened her closet and began rummaging through it.

"Polly?" she heard him say. And that foreign accent of his confirmed it. He didn't speak her language. At least he didn't sound Zlobenian.

"Yep, Polly Perks at your service." Huh, where did she leave it? It should be in this drawer. In here? No... Ah. There it is!

Taking what she wanted out of her closet, Polly went back to the chair and sat down. "So, I'm Polly." she said, pointing at herself. "And you are?" she pointed at him. Her question should be obvious right? Despite the language barrier.

"Sasuke. Uchiha Sasuke."

"Sa...suke?" she said, trying out his strange name.

He nodded.

"Sasuke," she said again.

He rolled his eyes and nodded.

Polly frowned, that just won't do. His name didn't sound delicate enough for the premise he'd set up before her father and Vlopo.

Polly smiled roguishly, like the boys do, and gave him his correct name. He was gonna be stuck here for a few days anyhow.

"Sarah," she said.

His eyes crinkled in confusion.

"Uchi... Uchiha Sarah," she pushed what she'd taken from her closet towards him.

He took it and unfolded it. "Sarah?" he said to himself. His eyes widened as the petticoat in his hand unfurled. He whipped his head at her and lifted the garment accusingly. "Sarah?!" His eyes twitched violently.

Polly grinned, "welcome to my family's inn, the Duchess! My good friend Sarah!"

Polly happily ignored the burning glare he was sending her way and began chatting with him. He did this to himself after all. No wait, she did this to herself. And she didn't know who the she was. Her, or him, or her.


Polly could hear someone groaning painfully as she walked into the lobby. Her father and the kitchen maid were gawking at... Sarah, who was leaning back against the door to the supplies room and was inspecting her nails.

Polly noted that Sarah had somehow shaved her legs. She also noted that Sarah pulled off a blouse better than she herself ever did.

"Ah, come on gel let me ouuut," a voice moaned from behind Sarah. "I'll behave, I promise!"

"Do you know her, Mr. Perks?" the kitchen maid asked her father with stars in her eyes. "I never seen a girl move that fast!"

"Polly? Is this same young lady in your room?" her father asked her. He'd been too embarrassed to come into her room again.

"Everyone," said Polly, raising a hand towards the girl of the hour, "this is Sarah."

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk," said the soft voice of the girl leaning against the door.

Sarah shook her finger and gave them all a menacing grin.

"Uchiha Sarah," she said and flipped her hair.

The kitchen maid clapped in excitement and began eagerly bombarding Sarah with questions. Sarah looked annoyed at the attention, which further spurred the maid.

Her father said to her, "interesting young lady."

"Huh? I guess..." said Polly, hoping Sasuke didn't prove too interesting.

That would just be inviting trouble now, wouldn't it.