Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Warning: This is a predominately yaoi fic (romance later) with cursing, drug use, mentions of rape, sexual abuse, general violence, and a lot of other things (like the stuff in this chapter) because I am quasi-fucked up... and I still call this a story about family. Let it suffice to say that this is not a story you should read to your five-year-old.

ENJOY!


"As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I wear my crown of thorns and pull the knife out my chest.
I keep searching for something that I never seem to find.
But maybe I won't, because I left it all behind.
Now I'm stuck with this, and that'll never change:
Always a part of me, until the very last day."


Sasuke nearly died once before.

Itachi had taken the then-seven-year-old Sasuke to an autumn-season fair for the first time, skipping out on school without either of their parents' permission. He hadn't wanted to, but Sasuke had begged and pleaded that they go. He really wanted to see a Ferris Wheel—it didn't matter to him how small it was, but he wanted to ride in one; he wanted to see the tops of trees and see the people as little ants. Their father, who was working at the police department at the time, couldn't take his sons to the fair that year due to work, and their mother was spending a week with family faraway.

It'd taken a lot of begging on Sasuke's part (and a promise that he would do all of his chores for two weeks) to convince Itachi to get him out of school early and to take Sasuke to the fair about two miles out of town; but it was so worth it in the end to get a first look at the fair, with all its bright colors and engineering feats that were rides. Though Sasuke was too short at the time for some of the rides (specifically the roller coasters) he didn't seem to mind as he forced Itachi to run around the fair all day with him, playing boardwalk games and eating candied apple after candied apple.

Itachi didn't get on any roller coasters, though he could, because Sasuke was still seven, and he didn't want to leave him on his own on the surprisingly crowded fair. Instead, Itachi played every game Sasuke asked him too, and did all the kiddy rides with him. He did everything and more of what Sasuke begged him to do, always laughing lightly, poking Sasuke's forehead and saying, 'Foolish little brother' in that gentle voice of his.

It was a wonder what one remembered and what one didn't. Sasuke didn't remember the color of what shirt he wore, nor did he remember how late it was that they stayed in the fair. He didn't remember even what the view from the top of the Ferris Wheel was, though that had been the primary reason for going to that fair in the first place was. Sasuke didn't remember many of the toys Itachi one him, or if Itachi was even having fun at the fair with him.

What he remembered was a knife. It wasn't large, and it wasn't intricate, but it stuck out in Sasuke's mind like nothing else about that fair could. He remembered everything about it. It was a pocketknife, and the hand it was in was pale, with a tattoo starting at the forearm and ending at the wrist, the bearer of whom had long hair and slit pupils, like a cat or a snake. That face was seared into his memory forever, as well as what had happened next to him—he was grabbed by the shoulder, yanked forwards as the knife impaled his abdomen.

He didn't remember why he'd been facing that way, or why Itachi wasn't right there to stop the man, but the next thing he did remember was that Itachi was grabbing him to stop him from falling, his face contorted in an unfamiliar expression of panic. It had been weird to see on his big brother's face, who was usually so calm, and that had been what got Sasuke afraid. He didn't hear anything around him, he didn't see anything but Itachi and the setting sun behind his head, making him seem more like a guardian angel rather than just his big brother. He'd loved his brother before that moment, but now he worshipped him like a god.

Maybe it was because he had worshipped him like a deity that God had chosen to take him away. Maybe it was because he was greedy with his guardian angel that he didn't have one anymore. He didn't know why, but what he knew was that Itachi didn't deserve to die early. Itachi was a good person, much better than he could ever be. Why couldn't he get cancer in Itachi's place? It just wasn't fair, not at all. Itachi could live without him. He'd done it for years before he was born. Itachi would've found a way to keep living. But he… he was weak, and Itachi had been all he'd known. Itachi had been everything to him, and he didn't know how to let him go. He didn't even know if he wanted to let Itachi go. What if he forgot him? What if everything that was Itachi was just disappeared? He didn't want that for his brother. He didn't deserve it. He deserved to be remembered.

But his father wanted him to let go. He knew Fugaku only had the best intentions, honestly. But he couldn't help but feel like he was trying to make Itachi disappear forever. He wanted someone to be angry at, and Fugaku was just the best target. He didn't make his anger known to his father, at least not intentionally, as he piled into Fugaku's car that fateful morning, wearing one of Itachi's ratty old t-shirts and a pair of jeans that Fugaku had pointed out multiple times was too small for him, head-to-toe in black.

Sasuke fiddled with the lip piercing with his tongue—which he got pierced a month or so ago-as he waited for his father to get into the car, trying not to note that Fugaku looked like he was about to drop dead from exhaustion, or that he was so sad that Sasuke wanted to hit himself for being the apparent cause. He knew he was causing nothing but trouble, but he didn't know how else to act, what else to do. It was how he got over the empty feeling inside of him. It was the only way he knew how.

Neither of the two of them talked on the way over to the offices, Sasuke having pushed his earbuds in and was playing what Itachi had referred to as 'neck-breaking music' after watching Sasuke, Naruto, and Shikamaru 'dance' to it. The loud screams Danny Worsnop, with the guitar playing of Ben Bruce, kept Sasuke from flipping his top as they crept closer and closer to the therapist's office, his impending doom getting closer and closer with each traffic light and turn.

All too soon, they were in front of it, Fugaku turning off the radio to look over at Sasuke. The teenager caught the cue as he tugged the buds out of his ears, Not the American Average ending with the lyric 'fucking bitch'. Sasuke paused it before another song could play, turning to his haggard father. He noted that the gray hairs in Fugaku's hair, hairs that hadn't been there a few years ago.

"Sasuke," Fugaku said, calling his attention back, "You know I'm just doing what I think is best, right?"

"Yeah," he said automatically, not sharing what he actually felt, and Fugaku knew it, expressing his displeasure with that fact with a heavy sigh.

"Are you always going to avoid talking to me? About anything?"

"I don't know."

"Sasuke, I really do care about you."

"I know."

"I have webbed feet and gills. I'm a merman."

It was a rise and he knew it. His father said ridiculous things when he felt like Sasuke wasn't listening. He had heard Itachi do it a couple of times, with less ridiculous things, and Fugaku had taken it a step further. Memories of Fugaku smiling as Sasuke began to laugh at his odd statements came to the forefront of Sasuke's mind, as well as other times when Fugaku was being otherwise ridiculous, not like the stiff Fugaku Uchiha that others knew. It was a childhood memory Sasuke would much rather leave forgotten and dead.

"Sure."

Fugaku sighed again. "I won't say anything about anyone being disappointed in you, because I know that won't get through to you. What I'll say is that I love you and I truly hope that this will work for you. If it doesn't… I don't know. I really don't know. But I can't keep beating my head against a wall, Sasuke. I can't help you if you don't help me, not anymore. I can't just continue to watch you destroy yourself, Sasuke."

"I know." Sasuke unbuckled his seatbelt and gave him another blank stare. "Can I go?"

Fugaku stared at him for a moment and then nodded, waving his hand and slamming it down on the steering wheel. "I came by already and filled out paperwork. The rest you can do by yourself. Don't ditch, Sasuke. I put a track in your phone." Sasuke had long since gotten over that fact. Ever since the fair experience, the brothers had been put on track.

"Fine."

"Please let her help."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Sasuke. Let her help you."

"I know."

"Can I get different answers?"

"I don't know."

"…Get out of my car."

The therapist's office was oddly nice, and actually comfortable in Sasuke's opinion, what with its modern furniture and large windows, making him feel like he wasn't trapped and being suffocated. He had a slight claustrophobia, ever since some stupid bullies shoved him into an old, abandoned refrigerator back in elementary school (another thing that Itachi had saved him from). The office only had two other people in it, so there was enough seats for him to choose from, thankfully, without risking getting a warm seat. Sighing in relief, he made his way over to the receptionist, placing his hands on the glass countertop.

The receptionist looked up at him with brown eyes and a wicked grin. "Well, aren't you cute?" she purred. The old him would've shivered at that, but he didn't really care now. "What's your name, cutie?"

"Sasuke Uchiha."

"New here, Saucy?"

He saw the play on the letters of his name (SAsuke UChIha) and he chose to ignore it. "Yes."

She smiled again and pulled out a clipboard, placing it on the counter. "If you can't fill in something, don't force it, and don't give false info. I wouldn't want to have to kill you for making me feel like I messed up with the information we have in the system." Though it was said in a nice tone, Sasuke could tell she wasn't kidding.

"Thank you, Ms… Mitarashi," Sasuke said, taking the clipboard.

"Oh, that name will just piss me off. Call me Anko instead. I like it when people call me by my name," Anko said with happy and equally evil eyes. "Just have a seat, Saucy, and feel free to take a pen so you can fill it out. Don't forget the little survey on the flip. I made them myself. Allows me to really hash out your character in the system. Okay? Okay. You can go now." Almost immediately her smile faded, her immediate attentions turning towards her computer as she began to type away, the only thing indicating she wasn't actually doing work was the perverted look on her face.

Sasuke, instead of questioning it, found a solitary seat by one of the windows and sat cross-legged in the black armchair as he got to filling it out the usual form almost robotically, not even paying attention to what he was writing. His father had been letting him fill out his own forms since he was a kid, since Itachi had been diagnosed. He didn't even read what the form asked for until he finished with the formal and moved onto Anko's survey, his pen stilling as he read the first question, which read:

In twenty words or less, describe your first sexual experience.

Sasuke stared at it for twenty more seconds before moving onto the next question, which read:

In twenty words or less, describe your first experience with prescription/nonprescription drugs and/or alcohol.

The questions only grew increasingly more personal.

describe your first orgasm.

describe your sibling's first sexual experience (that you know about).

describe your feelings of inadequacy.

describe your love for your family.

describe your hate for your family.

describe your friends.

describe your genitals.

describe your wishes of what to do with your genitals later.

describe your sexual fantasies.

describe your sexual nightmares.

…And so on and so and so forth. Sasuke wasn't sure what to think about these questions, or about how to even answer one of them (especially the ones about sex). He wasn't crazy about sharing his personal life, especially with a stranger.

A small chuckle off to his side drew his attention. His head snapped up almost automatically, taking in the sight of a boy sitting across from him in a similar armchair. He was grinning widely, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in Sasuke's incredulous form, his messy brown locks nearly covering his ears. Sasuke glared at him, disliking that the weirdo (he had to be a weirdo if he was in some therapist's office) was finding his state of confusion to be amusing.

The infamous glare of the Uchiha wasn't one that was taken lightly in this town. Everyone knew that the glare could make someone want to wet their pants. It made one feel stupid and childish and hated, and it was why Fugaku had been able to make a name for himself so easily as a cop. The glare could even make other Uchiha afraid. So when this kid started laughing out loud instead, Sasuke was confused. The boy held his side as he laughed (well, actually, cackled), nearly falling out of the armchair he was sitting in, his chest pressing against his knees, which easily came through the holes in his ripped jeans. His back shook as he laughed and snorted at Sasuke.

Slowly, the boy calmed down, sitting back into his chair as he giggled to himself, his grin wide and his cheeks bright red (though, Sasuke wasn't quite sure how he could tell that, given the fact that his cheeks had giant fang-shaped tattoos on them and nearly hid the blush). Sasuke stopped glaring; instead choosing to stare blankly at the boy as he slowly calmed down and became capable of speaking.

"Y-You don't have to fill out the survey if you don't want," he finally said, wiping his tearing eyes. "It's not mandatory. Anko just gets a kick outta seeing patients squirm. All that would happen if you completed it would be that she would add to your file that you're some sick pervert with incestuous desires." Sasuke stared at him, and he stared right back, though he seemed to be doing it for amusement rather than for lack of anything to say. "Trust me, you'll only hurt yourself if you finish your survey, man."

"Shiba-Inu, don't ruin my fun!" crooned Anko from the receptionist's desk, "I thought Saucy looked cute with that expression on his face. I know you thought he did, too."

The boy laughed again. "Maybe, maybe not; the world will never know!" he said happily, turning to Anko. "But I thought he was gonna explode, and I didn't want little exploded bits of him on Mom's walls. She would be mad at both of us; it was only repainted last week."

The other man in the room chuckled. "You two sure do keep it lively in here."

"You love us, Rhino," Anko purred.

"We're like cable, but we're free!" the boy laughed.

The man shook his head and turned to Sasuke, showing his scars. He knew him from somewhere; he knew he did, he just couldn't place him. "If you keep your head down around them, you'll be fine, I swear. They're harmless… most of the time."

Sasuke simply nodded, getting up and walking over to the desk, handing Anko the clipboard. Anko grinned up at him. "You're a man of very few words, aren't you, Saucy?"

"Maybe his development got stunted and so he only knows a couple of words. Maybe he has PTSD and can't talk beyond a few words without falling into the depths of his bad memories. Maybe he's on a mission to see how few words society needs to get by. Maybe—" Sasuke began to tune the boy out. He was way too mouthy for his tastes. Didn't the little bastard get tired of talking sometimes? And where the hell was he getting these theories from? The one about PTSD didn't even make any fucking sense.

Sasuke was silent as he made his way back to his spot, bringing his knees into his chest and putting his chin against them, looking out the window. He pulled out his iPod, feeling empty and bored without anything screaming in his ears. He cued up the song quickly, pushing the earbuds into his ears as the heavy sound of Neil Westfall and Kevin Skaff's guitars came to his ears in the form of Violence (Enough is Enough), a copy of which he'd gotten illegally rather than waiting for the album, like he did with much of his music.

His fingers itched to strum the chords himself, though he never would. A guitar would be the last thing he would pick up out of anything in this world. It was the last thing Itachi touched in the house before he went to the hospital for those last six months. He was intent on keeping it in the exact same condition as when he left. It was a shared guitar, bought by their mother just a few weeks before her accident; a Les Paul. There was a time when every moment he had to himself; Sasuke would spend practicing on it, and hoping one day to buy off of the guitars from Synyster Gates' line. The American guitarist was absolutely amazing to both Sasuke and even Itachi. In fact, the last thing Sasuke managed to do for Itachi was take him to an Avenged Sevenfold concert, the first and only concert his elder brother had ever attended.

A hand waved in front of his face, capturing his attention. He glared at the owner of the hand, who was none other than the annoyingly loud boy. He didn't seem to notice Sasuke's disdain, and instead smiled brightly. Sasuke pulled out one earbud, and then he immediately chirped, "I'm Kiba Inuzuka. What's your name?"

"It's Saucy," called Anko.

Sasuke refused to respond to either of them, instead staring at Kiba as if he was a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe. Kiba's smile didn't falter, though, and he opened his mouth to speak again before the door to the therapist opened, a woman with long, wavy dark brown hair stepping out with a smile on her face. "Who's next for me?" she asked, looking at the three males there before she stared at the large scarred man. "Ibiki, did my husband do something stupid again?"

"Other than send me as messenger again? No. He just wanted me to tell you that he's staying late tonight. I would've just left the message with Anko, but I have no idea what she'd say to you if I left it, and besides, I thought it'd be nice to see you, Kurenai," said Ibiki with something similar to a bright smile, getting up and walking over to her.

"Did you draw the short straw this time?" she asked jokingly.

"Nah. Today was rock-paper-scissors." Sasuke stared at the man, recognizing him to be the familiar cop he was. He didn't remember him until Kurenai mentioned his name. Ibiki was an oversized cop if he'd ever seen one in his life, and he'd always made him a little bit more than slightly twitchy with his monumental size. He was a former military man turned military interrogator turned detective who was more than kick ass at making criminals cry. Ibiki used to scare him when he was a kid, and now, he hardly recognized him. That was just how little he cared. "Well, I need to get back. Take good care of Sasuke for us, Kurenai. Him and Naruto are the babies of the department."

Kiba gaped at him. "You knew who he was, Rhino?!" he sputtered.

Ibiki grinned at the incredulous teenager. "I never said I didn't. I don't talk to him often enough anymore." He turned back to Kurenai and smiled. "I'll see you later, Kurenai." She smiled in return and nodded, and Ibiki turned to Sasuke. "I hope you find her helpful. Kurenai here is one of the best I know."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Go back to work!" said Kurenai, playfully hitting his arm with a blush and small smile on her face.

Kiba grinned. "Mom's a married woman, Rhino."

"So you keep telling me, Kiba. Don't do anything stupid. I would hate to have to arrest your punk ass." He shook his head, turning to Kurenai. "I swear you and Asuma run a halfway house. Are you going to adopt Sasuke next?" She laughed and hit his hand again. Ibiki shook his head again, still smiling, and exited the office, waving to the chortling Anko.

Kurenai ran a hand through her hair and looked at the remaining two. "Well, who's next?"

Kiba jumped to his feet. "Me, Mom, me!"

Kurenai rolled her eyes. "Kiba, sit down. I was being sarcastic. I know you're my last patient of the day. You always are. I know it's Sasuke over there whose next." She gave the Uchiha a small smile. "Sasuke, I'm ready for you. Come on in."

Kiba pretended to pout, which quickly faded when Sasuke stood up. "By the way, I like NJ Legion Iced Tea."

Sasuke paused, confused and caught off-guard. "Huh?" he said [rather stupidly].

Kiba blinked. "You were listening to A Day to Remember. Well, my favorite song from them is NJ Legion Iced Tea, though Violence is good."

Sasuke stared at him for another moment before he figured out how to respond. "Hn." Sometimes responses are as simple as that. However, somehow people took that as a right to continue the conversation.

"It's not my favorite band, though. They're up there—I've got a couple of shirts, and I've been to a couple of concerts. You should try Rise Against. They're a little similar to them. A lot of people compare A Day to Remember with Pierce the Veil, but they're wrong. Rise Against is more like A Day to Remember than them. They're a cool sound, if you haven't tried it already—"

"Kiba," said Kurenai in an authoritative voice, "I kind of need Sasuke. He's my patient, sweetheart." Sasuke continued walking; not feeling obliged to speak, even as Kurenai wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He wanted to hate the feeling, but it felt like his mother's touch. It was so gentle, so warm, and so… so motherly. It was making his heart hurt a little just feeling it. He shrugged her off, trying to keep his throat from clenching up at the thought of his mother. If Kurenai felt bothered by it, she didn't make it known. She instead smiled softly and allowed Sasuke to lead the way into her office.

"Nice meeting you, Saucy!" called Kiba.

I don't wish I could say the same, freak, Sasuke thought, and chose to keep to himself.


Naruto sighed as he checked his watch again; tapping his feet against the ground impatiently putting his elbows onto the table before remembering that it wasn't proper etiquette to put them there. Groaning to himself, he pulled back before hesitating and then placing them back onto the cold mahogany surface, deciding that proper table manners didn't mean shit right now. He placed his head on the surface of the table, trying to breathe in and out as slowly as possible.

"Naruto?"

He looked up, blue eyes wide as he took in the sight he'd been waiting to see for almost thirty minutes.

"Hi, Mr. Nara," he said in a shaky voice, giving him the empty smile that he'd been practicing in front of the mirror for weeks after Itachi passed. Shikaku stared at him, midway through pulling off his raggedy scarf when Naruto called him Mr. Nara—the disrespectful little twerp was never that polite, even if he was in this phase of finding himself. Shikaku pulled his scarf off with a tired sigh, pulling off his equally raggedy jacket and placing it on the hook before sliding into the booth across from Naruto. "I ordered you a bottle of wine. I paid for it already. They won't give it to me without ID, though, so you need to show them yours and we should be okay to go."

Shikaku stared at him for a moment longer before he said, "I drove here, Naruto. I can't drive with alcohol in my system."

"It's okay; I was planning to drive anyways," said Naruto, waving his hand to call for his waiter. "So, um… h-how have you been, Mr. Nara? Everything good?"

"What's going on, Naruto?" Shikaku sighed finally.

"Hmm?! Why would anything be wrong?" asked Naruto nervously.

Shikaku leaned forwards. "You're twitching, you're stuttering, you're being polite, you're taking me somewhere without telling me where, you've called me here out of the blue, you're trying to get me drunk, and you're being polite. Based on that alone, I know that you're trying to tell me something unsavory, and you're trying to lessen the blow by giving me alcohol. It can't be that you're telling me I have cancer, because I have doctors for that and you don't work in a hospital. You have also had nothing to do with me except for a few basic interactions forced upon you by your father and brother since Shikamaru left.

"That leads me to believe that either you want money—which is highly unlikely, you'd go to Iruka or to Minato for that, and if that failed you'd see Tsunade or Shizune—or something happened, and by 'something happened' I mean that something's wrong with my son. You have two seconds to tell me what that is before I get back into my car, and go home."

Naruto swallowed. "W-Why wouldn't Shikamaru come to you?"

"Because he knows I'd put him in the hospital if he fucked up."

"Why are you assuming he's messed up, Mr. Nara?"

"Well, if he was hurt, he'd go to a hospital by himself and go about his business. He's not one for involving people needlessly; at least when he feels it's needless. So the only reason I can think of for Shikamaru not coming to me and going to one of his friends instead is because he fucked up, and because he knows I'll want to kick his ass. All I'm asking for is that you tell me how badly. I can always go to my car, go to the office—you know, the private security firm I started with Sasuke's father—and turn on the GPS tracking I have on his phone and on a few of his belongings and find his ass, if he hasn't disabled it." He settled back in the booth, staring at Naruto.

"C-Can we drink the wine, though? I spent the last of my money on it," Naruto said softly.

"How badly did he mess up, Naruto? Be honest with me. You're not the one in trouble with me."

"Why're you assuming—"

"Do us both the favor. Cut the crap and tell me how badly. You don't even have to say what he did. Just, on a scale of one to five."

Naruto bit his lip. "It's my opinion, but I think it's a six," he said as the waiter brought the wine and one wine glasses, pouring some of the red liquid into it before placing the bottle on the table and walking away. "Maybe a six-and-a-half to a seven."

"So Shikamaru did fuck up?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, he fucked up."

"Okay. Start off by telling me where he is. Is he at school?" Shikaku asked, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. Damned good wine. Naruto made a good choice.

Naruto shook his head in quick and jerky movements. "No. He's… he's at my flat. He's sleeping in my wardrobe. He's literally sleeping there. He's got a bed made outta my clothes. He didn't want my dad seeing him."

"Smart. He knows that the moment Minato sees him, I'm getting a call, especially since we still go out for drinks on a regular basis," Shikaku nodded before saying, "Carry on. How long has he been there?"

"A couple of days. Three or four? I'm not sure. He said he was going to go to you after one night, but then he chickened out, and I let him. I wasn't sure what else to do. He was terrified, and so I let him, but I don't think he'll ever approach you if I don't come to you myself, so…" Naruto sighed and gestured to the table. "Here I am."

"Scared out of your mind. Well, at least I know that Shikamaru knows that he should be afraid of fucking up and telling me about it. Why isn't he in school?" Shikaku said, raising an eyebrow.

"He dropped out four months ago."

Shikaku blinked, staring at Naruto as if he had multiple heads instead of just the one. "What the fuck did he do?" he sputtered, eyes nearly bugging out of his skull.

Naruto rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, Mr. Nara, but… that's actually not the worst thing Shikamaru's done. You might like to have some more of that wine right now."


The one thing Shikamaru treasured most in the world was his parents. Though he didn't show it often, they meant the world to him, their opinions of him, and their love for him. They weren't the best—his father had been in the military as a captain—and so he'd lived a while without his father, and his mother was noisy and she fretted over the smallest thing because she had to do the work of two parents. He was often angry at the both of them, when he was younger, but he respected them, too. His father came back and he really stepped up to the plate, and his mother only fretted because she loved him so much. They did the best they could with him, and he loved them for doing that for him. They weren't ridiculously rich, nor were they depressingly poor. He didn't get exactly everything for Christmas, but he got nice things. They were strict, but not too strict. They were lenient, but not too lenient. They were perfect parents to him. It wasn't their faults that he was just a fuck-up who happened to share the same gene pool.

He knew he couldn't continuously avoid his father. He wasn't that good, and he couldn't hide out in Naruto's wardrobe forever. As much as he would like to, he couldn't. His wardrobe wasn't that interesting, and it certainly wasn't big enough. Besides, he knew that every day he was just pissing Naruto off with his presence. He'd promised the day after, and it'd been nearly a week. It wasn't that he wanted to take advantage of Naruto's hospitality; it was just that every moment he thought about facing his father he died a little on the inside. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to leave and had to face what he had coming for months, and he knew that when it came, Naruto would have to have a hand in it.

So he didn't get mad at Naruto when he found the door to Naruto's bedroom was ripped off by a furious Shikaku.

Shikamaru flinched, knowing that he was still twitchy and afraid of his father's disappointment, which he could see just growing in Shikaku's eyes as he grew more and more justifiably afraid. Shikaku stalked over to him, grabbing him by the collar of his borrowed shirt and yanking him to his feet, bringing the lanky boy to stand upright. When he had become eye-level with his father, he didn't know, but he figured in nearly the same moment that it wasn't something he should be thinking about right now.

"You have less than six minutes to get your shit, get downstairs, and to get your narrow ass into the car. Do you hear me?" growled Shikaku, his eyes displaying every shouted word that he refused to say. Shikamaru didn't trust his voice, and simply nodded, allowing his father to push him away (literally) and walk right back out the room, a wide-eyed Naruto staring at him with a gaping mouth. With shaking fingers, Shikamaru picked up his things, grabbing the magazines and the travel Shogi board given to him for his thirteenth birthday and stuffing it into the biggest pocket he could find, not worrying about if he had all the pieces. Without saying a word to Naruto, he ran out of the flat, running downstairs and pushing his few things into the backseat, following closely behind it.

The car seats had been shiny when it was new two years ago, and it'd smelled like it to. Now it smelt like shaving cream, musk, and the slightest bit of ash, and the only thing these seats were reflecting anymore was the almost red angry aura that his father seemed to take on.

"Get in the front seat," he ordered. Within ten seconds, Shikamaru was there, buckling his seatbelt. He knew that his father would hit him if he felt like, regardless of where he sat in the car, but the only difference between sitting next to him and sitting in the back seat was that he would feel less like a taxi driver. Shikaku didn't look at him before he put the key in, immediately flooring the pedal and jumping off the curb. Shikamaru swallowed but remained silent, knowing that his father would start yelling when he chose to, and that talking would only make things worse.

Oddly enough, though, Shikaku didn't yell. He didn't scream. He didn't hit. Besides for the sounds of the engine trying to appease the Nara by going as quickly as possible the car ride was quite silent. Definitely tense, but quiet.

The sight of his boyhood home wasn't the reassurance it should've been, but it was where the death-defying car ride ceased. He didn't dare step out of the car without an order, twiddling with his thumbs as he glared down at his boots, waiting for Shikaku to either hit or strike—or maybe do both. He didn't know what to expect. He'd never fucked up this badly. He wasn't sure how Shikaku would take something like this. He'd been okay with cigarettes, and he'd been okay with the need for anxiety medication. He'd even been okay with the weed. But heroin? Dropping out of school? Living with a group of drug addicts, in a perpetual orgy? He wasn't sure if Naruto told him all these things, but it was so beyond simply fucking up that he really wasn't sure what Shikaku wanted to even say.

Shikaku finally looked over at his son, his eyes betraying nothing.

"I could yell. I could scream. But that wouldn't do anything, would it?" he sighed finally, leaning the back of his head against the seat. "It wouldn't change the fact that you've taken what you had and decided to toss it aside in favor for of drugs. It won't change the fact that… that I can't even recognize you right now, as my son. It won't change the fact that you've been blatantly lying to me for months, and instead of looking in myself on you, I decided to let you be independent of me and your mother. I thought I didn't have to treat you like a three-year-old, honestly. I thought I could relax, and have peace of mind that you moved on with your life. That you've grown up, and I would never have to worry about you." He sighed again. "Obviously, that was a wrong thing to hope for."

"D-Dad—"

"Don't speak. I don't want to hear your voice," Shikaku growled. "The only time I want to hear your voice today is when you tell your mother about this. I don't want to hear you, or even see you while you stay here. I want you to get yourself through this, whatever way you have to, and then I want you to find a job and get the hell out. I can't baby you. I've already done all I could for you, but since you've already fucked up every opportunity you already had, I don't know what to do for you." He turned away, looking out to the street instead of at his son. "Just… just get the hell out of my car, Shikamaru. Go upstairs. I already called your mother, so she's waiting for you in the guest room."

"I—"

"Just fucking go, Shikamaru."

This was definitively worse than the hitting or the screaming. In fact, he would rather that than the sound of his father giving up on him, when he needed his father the most.


Lyrics of the chapter are "Hear Me Now" by Hollywood Undead, from the album 'American Tragedy'.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter might not be coming out any time soon; I have two routes this can take on Hinata's part and I'm deciding if I want her standardly and understandably traumatized or go the oddball route that sounds just as appealing. Also trying to write a turn of events for Hidan and involve Asuma more (I've only used Asuma once in one of my fics, so I want to bring him more to the forefront).

Thank you, guest reviewer flare! Glad to know I've piqued your interests! :)