Baby Naruto to be Laid to Rest at Last?—forensic examiners confirmed that remains found in an abandoned construction project near the Namikaze summer home matched the DNA of the disappeared toddler, missing for more the three years as of last October. An anonymous tip led to excavation of the site…

Itachi was cross-referencing archived police reports, typing in dates and key words even as he finished skimming the article. Remains could mean so many things—

-ah. Teeth. Milk teeth knocked from a child who couldn't be more than three years old, perfectly matching Naruto's dental record. No immediately identifiable red flags on any of the reports, and if Itachi didn't pick up on any, there weren't any. No tampering with this paperwork, then. Two incisors and a molar, damaged by fire, another sliver that had been part of a fourth tooth… yes, that evidence was brutal enough. And whatever they'd burned in that barrel had certainly had the shape of a toddler.

Contemporary reports from alternate news sources all said the same—this was being viewed as conclusive evidence, the family asked for privacy, Namikaze's early resignation as the country's most popular PM in history touched on in some of the longer articles. Retellings of the whole, harrowing nightmare-come-reality, clips from the public pleas Minato and Kushina had made to the unknown kidnapper, remarks on the apparent senselessness of the act. There had never been a ransom note or any other kind of message from the perpetrator, who remained at large. So unsettling for such a high-profile case.

And Naruto was alive.

Tapered fingers pinched at a furrowed brow, pressing back the warning pains of an impending migraine. He didn't get them often, but when he did, pretending to function normally became excruciatingly difficult. Moving through the next few months of articles, he watched as the public's attention was directed from the tragedy of Baby Naruto to the scandal of Minato and Kushina's split—a public fight at their son's memorial service! Kushina caught on camera throwing furniture through their Penthouse windows! Minato declaring that Naruto was not dead—mad from grief, the public commentators snarked with sympathy so fake the words should have changed color on the screen—.

And, juxtaposed in his mind, images of the Naruto he came to know. Memories rose unbidden, cresting with the first stages of the migraine. Sasuke's missing again. Their mother's voice is too hoarse to be cold as she stares out the window, empty eyes tracking sheeting raindrops. She says nothing else to him, doesn't look at him, keeps thin arms clamped tight around her waste, as though applying pressure to raw wounds in danger of bleeding out. Itachi puts his shoes back on—one shoe, he hasn't had the chance to take the other off yet. His mother whispers as he turns back into the rain, half-caught words about bloody and beaten, and he knows she still sees Sasuke.

The streets in this part of town are always dipped in a grim, grimy kind of shadow, the buildings not as tall as those in more affluent sectors but wedged so tightly together that there is no room for daylight. He stops at a safe house, trades in clothing that might identify him, scours the streets in concentric patterns centered on the spot Sasuke was found last time, semi-conscious and bleeding sluggishly from arm, forehead and nose, trembling and grinning ferociously at nothing until he recognized Itachi.

Last time Itachi was in this neighborhood he was accosted by—"Hey, Hotass, come talk with me a minute—" ah yes, a man just like that one, big, burly, and drunk. Tase him, keep walking. Now he has less time to search for Sasuke. News spreads quick in this neighborhood, quicker still when it's the work of the Gatekeeper, that benighted kyuubi-child who wrecks every setup Itachi masterminds. Faster than a rat running from an exterminator, and brilliant, too, though the day the higher-ups clear Itachi for field work is the day that kid's off the streets for good—and half Konoha's gangs with him, once they crack him—Sasuke, otouto, where are you?

The rain clears, but Itachi is no closer, and solemnly regretting the lack of weapons more lethal than a taser. He is desperate and out-of-depth. Maybe Sasuke didn't come here, this time. Maybe he picked a fight he couldn't handle, this time. Maybe one of the monstrosities who called themselves men and pay to watch half-savage children cage-fight paid enough to make Sasuke do more than figh, this time. Maybe this time big brother will be too late.

Too late, too late, and he's running now, sweeping the pavement with frantic stares and pounding feet, ragged unborn screams cut off on a bitten tongue, Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke—

"They said you'd be here," says a voice, a too-young voice, and Itachi whips around to meet blue eyes, and black hair, and—and—

"Otouto" Itachi breathes, reaching for his brother with both arms, dragging him from where he lolls doll-like against a form even smaller than Sasuke's, unconscious and ghost-pale, cut a dozen times over and—

"Fought against Haku, that idiot," breathes the other boy, sucking in air, shaking his arms free of Itachi's burden. "Knife fight. Told him he ain't trained for knife-fights, but he's so proud and stupid, you know? Wanted the money—"

Itachi is calling 2-1-1, Konoha's emergency line, barking out orders with all his trained proficiency, while within him heart, lungs, and guts melt and swirl together in an agonizing, wrenching fear and his other arms clutches his brother so tight there should be marks but the skin is already too pale and—

""S a good think Haku's so soft, you know, or this baka would be so dead," mutters the other boy. "If he's really your brother, you should lock him up or somethin'. You're a cop, you got bars ta put him behind, right? I don't wanna see him ever again… baka…" dimly, Itachi realizes it's tears the kid rubs from his eyes. "Anyway…those knives aren't exactly clean, you know? So tell the docs—" sirens peel, screaming closer and closer. Itachi stares towards them, wills them closer, faster, forces himself into a calm in which he can count breaths and heartbeats, a crude measurement of Sasuke's vitals. When he glances back again, the kid's gone.

As Sasuke's heartbeat stabilizes, loud and clear through the ambulance monitor with oxygen puffing up his nose every other second, Itachi realizes why he knew that face. The face on the kid who brought him Sasuke. The images they had weren't clear, three-quarters rather than full-face or profile, but he knew those eyes, those scarred cheeks.

He'd met the Gatekeeper.

.

plUlq

.

"I brought up the line-up with Kakashi," Sasuke offered, watching Naruto stare up at the narrow ceiling of the rink-side tunnel, expression strained and fingers tapping at the wall behind him. They were supposed to be suiting up—well, Sasuke was, anyway, as he was still on the starting lineup. "He said it was up to your parents." There was a slight hesitation before that last word, but Naruto didn't flinch away from it. Unsettled blue eyes tracked slowly down from the ceiling, reluctantly meeting Sasuke's conscientiously blank gaze.

"…Yeah," said the dobe at last. "You know, Bastard… when they find out…"

He trailed off, and Sasuke's gaze sharpened, challenging. "Find out what?"

Naruto hesitated. "Eh…Hina-chan's baby," he finished lamely.

"Idiot. That happened yesterday."

"…Right."

Sasuke waited, but Naruto was in a rare close-lipped mood, and while those happened rarely, they happened thoroughly. He had a pretty good idea what Naruto's concerns were, anyway, and no idea whatsoever of what to do about it. Point out that he wasn't all that different, and his family still accepted him? Except that Sasuke held his own, crippling fear, that one day his father would find out everything, and… and…

And he'd never be acknowledged, accepted, as a son. Never.

"Namikaze's not going to stop you from playing," Sasuke said, suddenly. "He's crazy intense when he's watching you skate. Must be important to him."

Naruto looked up, startled, and Sasuke grimaced in return. He hated this emotional crap.

"I hacked Kush—my mom's email," said Naruto in a rush. "Used it to get Kakashi to keep me off the line-up tonight."

Sasuke stared.

"I made my parents promise not to come tonight, said I needed more time to 'adjust' and crap and didn't want anyone to wonder when Konoha's biggest celebrities show up suddenly at a non-tournament game—"

"Why?" demanded Sasuke, unease spiking in his gut. Naruto never missed a game. Never. Unless…

"Gotta go under for… coupla hours, I'll make it quick," came the confession, and Sasuke nearly hit the idiot for confirming his worst fears. "Just an ID thing—someone's a rat or a plainclothes, covering his ass real well so they want me to come sniff him out—"

"No."

"Aw, come on, Bastard. You gotta cover for me."

"No," hissed Sasuke again, fists clenching. "You told me you could tell them no, these days."

Naruto looked thoroughly miserable. "I can, it's just… I think they're on to me, you know? And I need to scope out how much they know—"

"If you're referring to your new-found connection to your parents coming out, you won't be able to stop it. There's nothing you can do but stay out of reach, which Namikaze will certainly help you do—"

"Fine," snapped Naruto, flushed with sudden, scorching anger that startled Sasuke into an instinctive fighting stance. "Don't cover. Don't do anything, Sasuke."

Sasuke grabbed angrily at the shorter boy's sleeve, roughly cutting off his exit. "Idiot. I'll go with you."

Naruto shrugged him off angrily. "Now who's the idiot? Look, I got about forty seconds to split—Rin's locked in the bathroom with a bunch of baby pigs and Kakashi-baka an' that Obito dude are trying to rescue her, but—"

Pigs? Thought Sasuke, filing that disturbing question for a less urgent moment—"Itachi's on duty tonight," he warned. "And you know you don't have any hours. Sensei'll be after you in 10 minutes or less, and showing with a tail isn't going to help you. Unless you're suicidal." He peered intently at Naruto, half-way sarcastic, half-way concerned that that last bit actually was the case.

"I know," mumbled Naruto, alarming his friend further with the lack of bravado. "But if old nine-tails's got something to tell me about my parents, I'm going to be there to hear it."

Naruto couldn't even keep his gaze long enough for a proper stare-off. "Come on, Sasuke, at least give me the keys," he gritted out angrily, thrusting out a demanding palm. Slowly, reluctantly, Sasuke reached towards his pocket, calculating. The moment Naruto let himself relax in relief, stepping closer to accept the ignition key to their shared motorbike, Sasuke lunged.

Naruto was stronger, but Sasuke was almost always faster. Using weight and surprise to every possible advantage, he wrestled the other teen to the floor, grappling into a fully-committed jiu-jutsu throat lock, straining the muscles in his right arm to keep vital air-ways blocked off long enough to rob Naruto of consciousness while his legs and left arm fought to keep his position of dominance. If Naruto got out of this, he'd send Sasuke straight to the ER, he could feel the waves and panicked rage radiating and a desperate Naruto was a deadly Naruto—

"NO," he gasped, loosing control of the hold—he just needed a few more seconds, he could feel the other boy's hold on consciousness slipping—"NO, Naruto, I'm not enabling this shit—you're not going—HOLD STILL, DAMN YOU!" And just as his center of balance was thrown from under him, and horrible wheezing breaths sounded from Naruto's throat, and hot knowing hands were grabbing at his own throat, arms like still were gripping them both, tearing them apart and pinning him face down just like Itachi did, like all special-op cops were trained to. Dimly Sasuke caught the periphery of Kakashi's most dangerous heavy-lidded gaze and wondered who it was, holding him, if Kakashi was over there, before his gaze spun dizzily over to where Naruto was spitting and fighting and howling like a cornered cat until he too was wrestled into submission and forced against the wall, where he went silent and rigid, visibly shaking, head falling forward to let jagged bangs hide a furious face. For a moment there was nothing but ragged panting to fill the corridor, and then Sasuke strained his head up as far as he could from his humiliating pose on the dirty floor, and got a good look at the adult restraining Naruto.

Namikaze Minato.

"Now, Uchiha," Namikaze addressed him, gaze and voice cold enough to freeze even Sasuke's well-trained gut, "You will explain what led you to attempt suffocating my son."

.

vVoVv

.

Sakura went to find her teammates, neither of whom were going to make it on to the starting lineup at this point, and found a bawling Hinata instead.

Friends don't leave friends crying alone in darkened, deserted bleachers overlooking shut-down figure skating rinks. Momentarily giving up on her wayward boys, Sakura went to see what she could do.

"Sa-sakura-ch…chan," stuttered Hinata, startled and doing the best to mop up her face while not appearing to do so.

"Hear," offered Sakura bluntly, shoving her hockey jersey-covered arm in Hinata's face. "I'm going to wash it after the match anyways. I have to after every game. You wouldn't believe how bad those boys stink."

Hinata giggled, pushing the arm away in embarrassment. "I—I have a handkerchief," she whispered, sheepishly showing off a dainty bit of cloth crushed into one fist. "It ju-just… stopped soaking up tears…"

Hinata was always crying these days, Sakura reflected. Apparently it was part of being pregnant. Sakura shivered.

"I found another place to live," Hinata whispered. She must truly be desperate for an understanding ear, Sakura reflected, to just begin talking without the usual ritual of cajoling, begging, and occasional blackmailing needed to get the ex-Hyuuga to spill her secrets. But wait—had she said move out?

"EH?"

Hinata nodded despondently. "I can move in any time, I just need to… t—t—t—"

"Tell Naruto?" finished Sakura flatly.

Hinata nodded.

"Why." It was a demand, not a question.

Hinata cringed, just a bit. But she sounded determined. "Everything will ch…change, Sakura-chan. Naruto-kun will move in with his… his… p-parents, a-and, once everyth-thing g-gets out, start a comp…pletely new life…"

Sakura's mind spun, tilting around Hinata's very good points.

"And… the last thing he nee…d..ds, will be a pregnant girlfriend," continued Hinata, voice lower than a whisper. Sakura had to strain to understand. "I… I know that world… the press is… horrible, and, and Naruto-kun has a lot of pro-problems to d-deal with, he doesn't need me too—"

Yes, more good points, thought Sakura, catching the edges of Hinata's misery. But—

"But—Hina-chan—he DOES need you!" she burst out, unable to wait any longer for Hinata to force more reasons past her limping tongue. "Can't you see how much happier he's been, since he's had you?! You mean everything to him, he never stops talking about you, he works so hard to take care of you and the baby, and he enjoys it so much, and besides—BESIDES, if he went and knocked you up, he's gotta deal with it, right? Right. I'll kill him if he doesn't." And she looked very capable of doing just that, in that moment.

"He didn't," said Hinata.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't… didn't… it's not…"

Sakura's stomach began to curled with dread.

"It's not his baby," whimpered Hinata. And started to cry again.

.

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A/N: And things start to get gritty. What do you think?