Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
UNBEARABLE
/ˌənˈbe(ə)rəbəl/
inability to tolerate anything considered to be unsavory or distasteful; not to be endured or tolerated; insufferable
Uchiha Sasuke could be called a variety of things. He could be called a traitor. He could be called greedy. He could be called an asshole. He could even be called a murderer. They could say these things, because honestly; they were true. Yes, he had betrayed Konoha in his youth. He'd defected with no more reason than the need for power. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and he would make sure he got what he wanted and he didn't really care who had to go through to get it.
He could understand why that would make him an asshole in some peoples' opinions. People didn't really like people who didn't care about what they had to do to get to what they wanted. And, yes, he has killed someone that wasn't a negative target to Konoha. Danzō deserved to die, but he knew that while Tsunade had justified his actions, he has still murdered a public figure that some people in Konoha did trust and care about. They might not know the truth but in the end, it didn't matter. He murdered him. That was what remained.
Uchiha Sasuke could be called a variety of things, but he could never be called someone who enjoys watching people suffer. That was something he didn't have in him to be able to do. He, himself, had suffered with pain for a long time, and he didn't want to see someone suffer like he did, ever. It was cruel, and it was sometimes heart-wrenching to see someone in pain like he had been in. It was hard to think that he had to go through it himself. And it was harder to think that someone in his family was going through it now.
It didn't matter that they weren't close, like normal family members were. What mattered were the facts: they were family. He was his family. He was his cousin, and he cared about him in the only way a family member could. He wasn't just going to sit there an allow him, for even a second more than he was already, to suffer. He wasn't that type of cruel, and he never could be. He had tried, with Itachi, but in the end all it head led to was the utmost guilt about what he'd done. He wasn't going to allow that guilt to conquer him again, and he wasn't going to watch this boy writhe in pain.
He didn't know before this moment that he could take charge in a medical situation, but it was natural reaction. He rolled up the sleeves of the black long-sleeved shirt with the Uchiha crest on the back he'd taken to wearing a couple of years ago, a look of confidence and authority crossing his eyes as he looked down at the boy laying down on the mat in front of him.
"Naruto, how long has he been in pain?" he asked his blonde-haired best friend. Usually, he would've greeted him with some sort of rude term of endearment that was the norm between the two, especially after the four years in which they hadn't seen each other. However, he was watching a young boy sob in pain, watching him try to hold back all of his screams. It wasn't working, and Sasuke could understand why. The poor bastard had two curse marks on him.
Yes, temporary and removable curse marks, but they were curse marks that was only intended to cause him pain and to take his chakra.
"We rushed here. We got held back a day because we had to cross over a lake in our 'shortcut'"—he glared over at Jiraiya—"But it took us a grand total of three days to get here. He's been in pain for about three days, and it's increased every moment he goes without sleep." Obito yelped in pain, sweat practically pouring down his face as he bit his lip, drawing blood.
"Okay," Sasuke said, nodding and turning to his mother, who was trying to wipe the sweat off of Obito's face. "Okaasan, I need you to get me some of the Uchiha brew. I also need some ice and some towels for him." She nodded, completely serious and not daring to argue with her son. He pressed his hand to Obito's overheated forehead. "Lots of ice," he murmured, pulling his hand back. Obito was beyond the point of a high fever and by the flushed look on his face and the dark bags underneath his eyelids, he could tell that he'd been in this condition for a while. "How long has been like this?"
"He didn't look that much better this morning," said Jiraiya with a sigh, pushing Obito's overlong locks off of his forehead. "He wasn't in this much pain, and he's probably gone up a couple of degrees." Mikoto came back, armed with every material Sasuke had asked for. He nodded at her, immediately taking the bottle of brew and pouring some into its cap.
"I need you to sit him up, and to keep him still," ordered Sasuke. Jiraiya didn't like being bossed around by somebody that much younger than him, but then again he'd come to Sasuke because he knew what he was doing. So he did as he was told, carefully pushing his arm underneath Obito's body and holding him up by the shoulder. Sasuke crouched down, coming close to Obito. The boy opened one bleary dark eye, no sign of recognition of his surroundings in its depths. "I know you might not know what's going on, but I need you to open your mouth and drink, Obito."
Obito didn't respond with a vocal response, but he opened his mouth nonetheless, showing his understanding of what Sasuke had told him. Sasuke poured the cap's contents down his throat and gently, but firmly, closed Obito's mouth, tilting his head back so he wouldn't try to spit anything out. His face contorted with pain and discomfort, probably from the burn the drink was giving him, and Sasuke knew that the brew didn't taste that good, either. It was just that the brew, made with chakra, made inebriation possible in its drinkers with no more than a few sips. The buzz this would make would keep him from fidgeting as Sasuke got rid of the marks.
"Jiraiya, Naruto; hold down his arms and legs. His motor function is low right now, but not impossible. He will try to fight, but the drink will just make it easier on you." He waited impatiently as the two shinobi got into their own respective positions, tapping his fingers against his kneecaps. When they finally got ready, Sasuke focused his chakra, releasing a small amount of which was in his own permanent curse mark, his skin becoming brown-gray. He pressed his darker hands against Obito's stomach, directly over the mark, and pushed his almost sinister chakra into it.
"The only way to get rid of this seal is with the chakra that comes from my own seal. His seal sees mine as a fellow, in a sort of way, and it thinks that my purpose is the same as it is."
"So, basically, you're fooling it into thinking you're taking over its job," said Jiraiya as Obito's arm attempted to jerk against its restraints.
"Basically," he agreed as he pulled away, watching the tomes of the seal disappear on its own as he moved onto the next one. "Okaasan, please apply ice to that area. No doubt that it's painful for him there."
Naruto watched his friend, intrigued by the authority Sasuke was taking over this situation. Sasuke was practically like a surgeon, knowing exactly what he was doing and vocalizing what he wanted done well. Sasuke had confidence when he was fighting, but now he was showing more confidence than any other time he'd ever seen him. This was Sasuke's element. Not just healing someone, but helping someone in general. Sasuke was born to help people, Naruto could see it plainly.
Naruto could see Sasuke becoming a great clan head someday—and, maybe, someday he'd become a great Kage too.
There was something ethereally beautiful about Hanabi when she used the Gentle Fist. She was nothing but absolute grace, from the way her muscles moved in a single fluent motion, as if she was speaking a whole other form of body language, or as if she was dancing an alien dance. It couldn't be easily described, but it was a wondrous thing to see Hanabi using the Gentle Fist. It was possibly the one thing she loved more than causing trouble—and she loved to cause trouble.
Turning on the ball of her feet, raising one leg up as she spun, her left arm extended fully and her right bent above her head; she leaped up off of the ground, quickly pushing her right arm towards his chest. He pulled the sword out of its sheathe, placing one hand on its flat surface as he used it to defend himself, not at all intending to slice her with the blade. He could almost see her chakra coursing through the sword when her hand struck its flat surface. She leapt back, landing on both of her feet, one palm held up, flat and flowing with powerful chakra, a wide smile on her face.
"Having fun?" Shizuka asked, tightening his grip on the handle of his katana, a smile on his face.
"Loads," she responded.
"Are you going easy on me right now?"
She shrugged. "Maybe…"
"So don't. Let's not hold back." The two teenagers grinned at each other. Hanabi slipped out of her Gentle Fist stance, turning her body more so her left shoulder was head-on with Shizuka. He could almost see the veins in her temple become more and more pronounced, and her smile slipped off of her face. She was taking this completely seriously now, he could tell—so now he had to do the same, renewing his grip on his katana.
She pushed off her left foot, pulling out a kunai as she whirled around, slicing downwards with her knife. Shizuka brought up his sword, pushing the kunai off with it and aiming to hit her with his free hand. He aimed for her cheek, but she brought up her own free hand, grabbing his hand and pushing it away roughly, a smile on her face as she brought up her knee, managing to brush against his abdominal area before he jumped back, slicing upwards with his blade.
He wasted no time in lunging forwards again, giving the blade the smallest bit of chakra and swiping the air, utilizing the Wind Release technique he had been taught in Sunagakure; a not-so-gentle gust of air meant to throw her off of her feet. She winced in pain, yelping as she brought up her arms, taking the strong gust of wind that seemed to cut into her arms—which, on closer inspection, it truly did. He lunged at her while she was otherwise detained; leaping up into the air and attempting to do a sweeping kick to her in the shoulder. She turned around just in time, using her arms to stop his kick in motion. Gritting his teeth as he fell back to the ground, he brought his fist to hit her. She jumped back, his fist only barely brushing against her arm.
"You're seeing my attacks before I follow through," Shizuka realized, a smile growing on his face.
"How did you know?" she responded, a smile of her own developing.
"Just an educated guess. Let me make another one—you're analyzing my muscle groups in order to tell how I'll strike out."
She shrugged, "First one to get that one right. Sasuke taught me," she admitted with a full-on grin, wiping at her forehead. "Are we still sparring?"
"Hmm? Ah…" He looked past her, frowning as he noticed someone coming up to them. "No. Someone's coming. Looks like… it looks like Shikamaru." Hanabi smiled and shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck as she turned around to face the approaching Nara heir, who had his young son on his shoulders. She crossed her arms over her chest, patiently waiting for the lazy shinobi to come close.
"Hey, Hanabi; Shizuka," he said with a yawn and semi-politeness as Soyokaze pulled at his hair, which he seemed to not even notice—Shizuka could only figure that he was used to the toddler doing that to him—as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, no time for real pleasantries, but we need to get going. The both of you need to come with me."
Shizuka raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
He could've explained. He could've used the bounty of rich language he must've had at his disposal. He could've given an enriched reason as to why. He could've even wasted all of their time explaining. However, that wasn't who he was. Shikamaru didn't explain things in detail. He was far too lazy for that, and far too intelligent to have to. His bounty of rich language allowed him to get to his point without wasting his breath and time on words, and so he used this to his advantage with a few well-chosen words:
"Obito's hurt."
Most people would call Nara Yoshino a woman of short temperament. She tolerated no disrespect towards herself, not from her family and not from any passing person in the street. She was a woman to be feared by the many she came across, especially by her own husband. She was feared, yet, she was also adored by these people, especially her own husband, mostly because she was fierce in everything, not just anger. She was fierce with her kindness. And she was fierce with her love—so fierce. Anything that took a piece of her heart was something that got the full of her attention when it needed it, as well as all of her love as well. Shikaku was proud of himself for finding such a woman to marry, to fall in love with, and he was more than happy watching her at work on the person they both cared about.
The look on her face as she wiped off the sweat on Obito's forehead was one of a mothers' watching her own child, taking care of her young nephew with Mikoto. Both women had been making sure that his sickness didn't grow anymore than it had from the moment Sasuke had allowed himself to stop tending to him. Yoshino's smile was small as she tended to Obito—it was one that displayed how much she enjoyed taking care of someone again. It had been such a long time since she'd had to care for someone who needed caring for, and she was reveling in the moment.
Obito slept as easily as he could, still feeling the residual pain from the seals, as well as the alcohol's effects. He looked flushed and sickly, and Shikaku knew that he had been lucky that this was all he'd gotten—those seals were intended to take his chakra and kill him, but it hadn't. Sickly, yes; but the fact remained that he was alive, and Shikaku was definitely thankful for it. He'd become like a son to him, and the time he'd spent away had not changed that fact.
Of course, he was a son he'd have to share with Obito's actual father, but it wasn't a big deal—Shisui is not someone he hated. Shisui was a person he was proud to know, and he knew that it wasn't possible for Obito to have a better father. It was the mother he had a problem with, a now nonexistent problem. Obito was going to grow up well now, that was for sure; he'd become a fine shinobi. Especially with the mentors he had—though, he didn't quite appreciate Naruto's retelling of his nephew-in-law's developed perverseness due to extended contact with Jiraiya—and the friends and comrades he had made. Obito would come out alright. Perverted, but alright.
"I can't help but wonder if this is my fault again," Shisui admitted with a sigh, speaking to Shikaku for the first time in hours. Shikaku turned to him, fixing his position in the doorway in order to look at him. "I can't help but think that if I hadn't faked my death, I could've stopped a lot of these things from happening to him."
"Well, if you didn't, the entire Uchiha clan would've been dead, and he would be nowhere near as strong as he is," said Shikaku bluntly. "Besides, our sons are shinobi. Shinobi grow the most by figuring out what to do on their own. And he is too similar to you to allow you to live it down if you hadn't put Konoha first. He would've hated you as much as you would've hated yourself. You would've lost your family, your comrades, and the love of your own son. This way, all you lost was your eyes and your son's mother. Your son still loves you, your family's still alive, and your comrades still trust you. Think about it that way."
"Amai would be alive," Shisui sighed sadly. "The fact remains that my choice lost my son his mother. It lost my wife her sanity. It lost my son his confidence. It made people distrust him, for reasons he's not allowed to simply give out. And now he's being targeted."
"You were targeted yourself. You two are Uchiha. His last name may be Nara, but everyone who matters to your son knows where he truly rears from. He is your son, and he wouldn't change anything in his life if he got that choice, if it would give him security. Obito is not that weak to pussy his way out of a tough situation. He'll take care of it in the way he was taught to—taking it head on and praying endlessly that the end will justify the means. That's what his father did, and he is like his father."
Shisui raised his eyebrow at him. "And you're proud of him for being like me?" he asked incredulously.
Shikaku smirked and said, "Yes. It means that I did my job right." Shisui chuckled, turning his face away and leaning against the doorway, watching the two women care for the boy. "I wonder if most kids who have two father-figures in their lives feel sometimes crushed by the attention that they both give them."
Shisui scoffed. "Probably, but this is Obito. He's so self-depreciating that he doesn't even really realize that he even has two men who consider him, in equal amounts and in their own ways, to be their son. Hell, I know he doesn't. He doesn't even realize that the girl he's in love with is in love with him too." He smiled and rubbed his nose. "I just hope to God that he doesn't do something stupid and knock her up. It's not that he wouldn't be a good father someday, but I'm not ready to be someone's grandfather. I am positive that Hyūga Hiashi, who is closer to a grandfather's age than I am by a long shot, is nowhere near ready to be a grandfather. He'll cut off Obito's dick before he rolls over and allows his fifteen-year-old daughter to give birth."
Shikaku chuckled. "I can't say I blame him. Your parents didn't take it quite well, if I remember correctly. They adored Obito, but they were cursing you for the entire pregnancy. And when Shikamaru told me he knocked up Temari… I can't honestly tell you exactly what I did, because I blacked out, but I woke up to find that I'd broken my knuckles and hands beating the shit out of Shikamaru. We were in the hospital for a week."
"I'm pretty sure I'd be a hypocrite if I beat Obito for a teenaged pregnancy," sighed Shisui.
Shikaku rolled his eyes. "Hypocritical or not, if you need to do it, you make sure to do it. Just don't kill him. Killing's illegal. I know that if he does knock her up, I'll hold him down when Hiashi picks up the knife to cut his dick with. I'm already somebody's grandfather; I'm not becoming a great-uncle before I actually reach my sixties."
Humming.
There was humming.
It was a beautiful sound, the humming. It was so sweet, and so simple that the musician within him could've wept for joy upon hearing it. There were only a couple of notes to it, but that was what was so amazing about it. Its purpose was to soothe, and it did just that with its few notes. Without thinking, his arm stretched out, grabbing the hand he felt on his cheek, and quickly pulling on the arm it was attached to it, pulling them down with a squeal, abruptly cutting off the song. He sighed, wrapping his arms around the person's lithe body and pressing his cheek against their warm neck.
"O… Obi…to…?"
The voice sounded as if it should be vaguely familiar, but Obito was too tired to even think about identifying it. No, that wasn't what he wanted to do, anyways—what he wanted was to hear this voice again. That was what he really wanted. "Hum for me," he mumbled against their warm skin, making them shiver. Why did that happen? Were they cold? They didn't feel that way… "Hum that song for me."
"W-What?" the person asked him.
"I want you to hum that song for me. It's soothing." He unintentionally nuzzled their neck, extracting what he identified, in the back of his mind, to be a moan from them. "Please."
"Ah…" they whispered as he pressed his cooler cheek against their collarbone, his body moving on top of theirs to press them into the mattress. Breasts, he identified in the back of his head before shrugging his shoulders. They were fine breasts, nice and big with some definite shape to them, from what he could identify; but he wanted the humming to come back. The body didn't matter much, for once. It should've been a hint and a half for him, but he wasn't thinking about it. He just wanted to hear that hum—that oh-so-beautiful hum that had him so captivated. "O-Okay. I'll hum for you."
He sighed in relief, and gave her under him a gentle squeeze, making her flinch before she did her best to relax herself under his grip. Hesitantly, she began to hum again, soothing Obito. He sighed happily, tightening his grip on the girl who he had forced underneath him. Usually, he wouldn't allow himself to get too close to any girl, but this one felt safe. She felt like… well, home. There was no other way to put it. From the sound of her sweet, sweet melodious voice to the simple and comforting way she fit into his arms, he felt absolutely safe, safer than he had in many years, just holding this girl against him and listening to her hum into his ear like this, so soothingly…
"You're not gonna try and kill me, are you?" he murmured, knowing he would be interrupting her humming by speaking to her, but he wanted to figure out who he was touching like this.
"No." She sounded incredulous. "I… Why would I?"
"Because I usually don't let women touch me, and the last time I didn't put up enough of a fight, they tried to kill me. That's why I'm here." Maybe he should open his eyes. Maybe he should look at this girl he was entrapping underneath his body weight. Or… maybe he should just soak up the moment. Yeah. Soak up the moment.
"I would never try to kill you, Obi-kun."
Obito never knew how eight words could, so totally easily spoken, and with such a little usage of eloquent language; completely and totally snap him out of his daze and also making him jump off the bed as if had literally turned into fire, eyes wide at the smaller figure on the bed as he slammed himself against the wall. "Ah… ah," he said, trying to catch his breath. "Ah… I…"
Hanabi's familiar pale lilac eyes showed her worry for him. God, she'd developed into an even prettier thing, hadn't she? It was absolutely crazy, how she had developed. He couldn't have hoped for her to become more perfect, yet… she had. Her body was just so fucking amazing. Her breasts were firm, she was curvy, and warm and perfect and sweet and, oh God… did he feel like an ass! Laying all over her like that, forcing her to hum to him, what kind of asshole was he?! He could almost feel every ounce of embarrassment. He just… laid all over her! "What's wrong? Weren't you just using me as a human bed?" she smiled at him reassuringly but it only made things worse.
His blush kicked up instantly. "Ah… shit! I'm… ah, I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry." I didn't even say hi to her! Four years I've been away, and the first thing I do is lay all over her and fucking feel her up! The moment, in his opinion, just couldn't get any less awkward, and he wished that he could just stab himself in the stomach with a kunai. Repeatedly.
And, speaking of his stomach … he also wasn't wearing a shirt.
Just. Fucking. Brilliant.
And, thankfully, his stomach had found a way out of this situation.
He clamped a hand down on top of his mouth, bile crawling quickly up his throat, his eyes getting even wider as he located the closest trash can, diving for it and emptying the contents of his stomach into it. He was sure that he seemed pathetic to her, violently vomiting. Truth be told he knew was still sick, and it was only to be expected, but still… there was nothing more unattractive than someone puking, and especially when in front of Hanabi he wanted to be attractive to her.
"Obito-kun, you need to lie back down," Hanabi said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing lightly. He wanted to say, Not after how much of an asshole I just made myself out to be, but all he could do was nod in slight agreement, allowing Hanabi to gently stand him upright, moving him back to gently lay him down on the bed once more. Truth be told, every part of him ached at that moment, and he knew he would be better off lying down. "I'm gonna go get Shizuka."
Oh, shit. "He's here, too?" he managed to whisper. Kill him. Just kill him. Knowing Shizuka, he would have been there the entire time, behind that door, laughing at the predicament he had managed to get himself into in the few short moments he fully conscious. He knew how much his best friend sucked like that. He wouldn't put it past him.
This was not his week. Not at all.
"So, teme, tell me," said Naruto, picking up his bottle of beer, "Have you and Kiba fucked yet?"
Sasuke, who had been taking a drink himself, choked—a reasonable reaction, given what he was just asked by his best friend. Naruto's eyes looked on with concern and confusion, not understanding why Sasuke was reacting in such an away to the question. Had he said something wrong? He'd only asked if they'd slept together!
"What's wrong?"
Sasuke wiped his mouth, eyes wide and looking around the bar nervously, a blush creeping up his face from his neck. "What the fuck?" he gasped out, mortified. "Why would you ask a question like that, asshole? Why is the first thing you say to me when you've only just come back to Konoha is asking me if I fucked dog-boy? What the hell?"
Naruto frowned. "What? You said yourself that you were interested dog-boy. That you looooove him." Sasuke glared at him for drawing out the word 'love' like that, and he had to force himself not to reach over the table and throttle his friend for that. "So, have you gotten anywhere with him, teme? Have you guys gotten together in any way? Didja screw?"
"Kiba and I haven't done anything," Sasuke admitted, still glaring. Why couldn't he have a normal best friend? Why did he have to get one who always had his foot in his mouth and never realized it? Why did he have to get an obnoxious one who, after a four-year-long intermission, chose the topic of his sex life (or lack thereof) as a beginning topic of conversation? While Sasuke would admit, it did get rid of any awkward type of conversation quite easily; he just wasn't ready for it. He only really talked about his horrid love-life with Itachi, and sometimes even Suigetsu, Kakashi, or Hinata (depending on whp was near and how drunk he happened to be was at the time). This kind of question was out of the blue, and he wasn't drunk enough for it.
"What do ya mean, you guys haven't done anything?" Naruto asked eyes wide, "You're Uchiha-fucking-Sasuke; you're supposed to be on this shit! You're supposed to fucking gush confidence and be able to charm Kiba outta his pants and into yours, dattebayo!" Sasuke's blush grew more, and he covered it up with another gulp of sake. Naruto is an evil fucking fox midget.
"I think it's scary that none of the people I told about my sexuality questioned it in the least," he admitted, knowingly getting off topic, "You all seemed to know I was gay. You all talk to me about it too well."
Naruto shrugged. "I kinda figured it out when we kissed. The first time around. You just… you denied it way too hard. And I'm pretty sure there was tongue in it." He took a swig of his drink, watching Sasuke sigh. "Anyways, stop trying to switch subjects! You and Kiba have gotta get together, 'cause this is just sad, dattebayo!"
Sasuke's upper eyelid twitched. "What's just sad, dobe?"
"You've got the hots for him, and it's really obvious," said Naruto simply. "Way too obvious. You blushed when I mentioned him getting into your pants—by the way I didn't know you would bottom. Never figured you for that guy. But I guess somebody's gotta, and even with that damned Uchiha pride, you are a little bit more feminine than Kiba…" Sasuke picked up his fork and threw it at Naruto, who managed to react in time in order to avoid the fork hitting him in the forehead. "What the fuck, Sasuke!? What're you tryin' to do to me, dattebayo?!" he barked, the people of Konoha so used to his loud mouth that he didn't draw any attention, thankfully.
"I'm not the uke, you fucking moron," growled Sasuke, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest, "And I'm also masculine."
Naruto smiled sheepishly. "Ah, sorry."
Sasuke sighed, his anger dissipating. "Anyways, Naruto, the situation is more complicated than you'd like to believe. As much as I'd like to be able to… get Kiba into my pants"—he blushed again at that—"there's one fact about him that makes everything really hard on me, and it's the fact that he wouldn't touch me with a fifteen-foot-fucking-pole. He hates me, and I'm pretty sure he's disgusted by the idea of touching me. He's only civil to me when he's told to be. Any other time, he makes his hatred known. And then I fuck up by showing animosity back, even though I hate talking to him like that."
"So don't talk to him like that. Be nice to him."
"I want to, but every time he's rude to me, I can't help it. It's a natural reaction to be rude to the people who can hurt me the most."
"Oh, so that's why you're mean to me."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, yeah. I used to be nicer, but that went down shit creek when Itachi killed the clan. I mean, I've forgiven him since then. I know it wasn't his fault. But it was the first major betrayal I've ever gotten, and I can't find it in me to be nice to anyone all the time, even when I care about them. Especially not Kiba—he hurts me more than Itachi ever could."
Naruto eyed him seriously. "You truly love him, don't you, Sasuke?"
The Uchiha heir sighed, equally serious. "Yeah. I do. Sadly."
Naruto blinked. "'Sadly'? Why 'sadly'?"
He smiled softly and touched his fingertips to his chest. "Whenever I see him with one of those whores he picks up, it hurts like no other wound I've ever gotten. I want it to be me he's hugging, me he's touching, me he's kissing, and I want it to be me he's fucking. Every damn time I see him with one of them, it's like one of Orochimaru's snakes are coiling around my heart and making squeeze happiness out. All I want to do is push them away and wrap my arms around his waist and beg him to be mine. I guess that's the worst part about it—I'm mad at him that he picks up these whores, who only want their own happiness; and then when he drops them, I get happy—like it'll be the last time it happens. Like he'll turn around and he'll see me."
"Sasuke," whispered Naruto, his own eyes filling up with sorrow for his best friend. He didn't know anything about these people that Kiba was picking up, but what he did know was that he felt sorry for Sasuke—sorry that Sasuke had to deal with that. Honestly, Sasuke had done absolutely nothing to deserve something like this, and anything he might've done; he'd repented for enough that he deserved to be happy. But he wasn't. He was in love but he wasn't happy, and that wasn't something he would ever want anyone to feel.
That sad smile that Sasuke made was the final straw in Naruto's opinion, as he slammed his closed fist down on the table, making the Uchiha snap his head up and look at him.
"What? You okay?" he asked, frowning.
"Kiba is a dumbass little shit who doesn't deserve YOU, Sasuke," Naruto said, surprising Sasuke before he sighed, "But you love him, and so, as your best friend… I'll help you get him, although he's lost a hell of a lot of my fucking respect by making you suffer, unintentionally or not. I'll help you get him not because you're both my friends, but because you're my most important nakama, and you deserve to be happy—even if it's with a stupid shit like Kiba."
Sasuke stared at him for a moment before he smiled softly. "Thank you, Naruto," he said sincerely, his onyx eyes showing more sincere, positive emotion in their depths than Naruto had ever seen before. "Thank you."
The blond-haired loudmouth grinned brightly, rubbing the back of his head with a blush in his cheeks, closing his eyes by habit as he basked in the moment. "Hehe… you're welcome, dattebayo."
"You know, when Naruto came in with the mission report earlier today, I did expect to see you right next to him. It figures you would flake out on him," Tsunade said with a grumble as her longtime friend and comrade slipped into her office (well, actually, he has transported himself into her office with a puff of smoke, which was possibly more irritating than the window thing).
He grinned at her, cheekily and annoyingly. It actually made her heart hurt a little bit. The grin was so disarming and familiar. It was as if she hadn't spent so much time thinking he was dead. As if she hadn't spent so many nights crying and drinking and screaming because she'd lost her best friend.
"Well, if I did that, I couldn't make my dynamic entry," he said cockily, winking at her.
She blinked. "You sound like Gai. Stop it."
"It isn't my fault that Gai worshipped the very ground I walked on," Jiraiya said with a chuckle, leaning against Tsunade's desk. Tsunade rolled her eyes, pouring herself a cup of sake. Nothing changed. Absolutely nothing about him changed, and she was glad. Jiraiya was still disarmingly Jiraiya. This was her best friend, Jiraiya. His grin slipped as he watched her, and he said seriously, "I bet you want to know why I didn't come back, don't you?"
"No, gee, you think?" she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes again and downing her cup in one go. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"The fact that you're not cursing at me for being moronic was the giveaway." Jiraiya took her cup out of her hand and poured in fresh sake, taking a sip. "I had my reasons."
She leaned back in her chair. "You always do. But faking your death was something you didn't have to do. There was no reason for that." There was no need to cause me that sort of pain.
He shook his head in disagreement. "There was all the reason for that. Naruto had to become independent of me in order to defeat Nagato and his Six Paths. He also needed to confront the Akatsuki on his own. I'm an old man; Tsunade, I can't keep helping him with absolutely everything."
"He was destroyed. He refused to take missions for weeks afterwards. I had to force him to take up a team so he could feel important to someone. Something. It was a last-ditch effort."
"Ah, so that explains the sensei-thing, to a degree. You really just wanted to get him out of a depression? How valiant of you." He handed her the cup. "But I had more reasons than just that. It has—well, had, now—to do with Orochimaru." Tsunade raised an eyebrow, allowing him to continue. "It seems that those kids are in a lot more trouble than they previously realized."
"I thought Kabuto was the problem," she said slowly.
"Well, yeah, he is. But he's not completely the issue. There are several factors, I believe," Jiraiya responded before he sighed. "Honestly, I'm not completely sure on all the details. But I've gotten wind that the immortality project has started up again, but… I think it's worse than it used to be."
"What, he's just murdering for fun? He already does that," she grumbled.
"Well, yes, and no. It seems like Kabuto's taking several approaches to it. I've caught words of Kabuto's attempts, but the one that troubled me the most was word that Kabuto has been studying Jashinism lately."
She groaned. "The last thing we need is sadists like him in Jashinism."
Jiraiya nodded. "I agree. But apparently, he approached them to ask about one topic. One singular topic—the chosen one. Jashin's most prized disciple. Their psychotic version of a living, breathing, tangible Jashin, I suppose. Anyways, he was refused answers. This is just word of mouth, but apparently, the church is currently looking for his head on a platter."
Tsunade arched an eyebrow. "Interesting. They rarely target fellow psychotic murderers, even if they're considered to be heathens. Do tell."
"Apparently, Kabuto stole from them," Jiraiya responded, his dark eyes full of thought and care with his wordings.
"Money?"
"No, I doubt that. The church isn't known for having things of absolute value to them, so I ruled out money or land, or physical objects—unless it has Jashin's symbol, it isn't worth shit. So I could only assume one thing… it's got to be something—well, someone—of extreme importance to them. Someone to do with the chosen one."
"Someone? Jiraiya, Jashinism is a cult. People to recruit into their crazed following are a dime a dozen. You think they're fretting over losing one person? That wouldn't make a difference."
"It's the only thing I could come up with. This is a religion—yes, cult, but it was a religion first—that holds no value in things like money or objects. All they believe in is killing in the name of their god. Everything else goes against him. Considering the questions that Kabuto supposedly approached the church with, about Jashin-on-earth, I can only make the assumption that he took someone who may be the answer to his questions."
"You're saying that there's such thing as Jashin-on-earth. You know that right?" Tsunade said.
"I'm not. I'm saying that Kabuto wants to be immortal, and if the Jashinists have a way, he'd be stupid not to explore it. It was a wonder Orochimaru never did. Again, everything I'm saying is word-of-mouth. Nothing's concrete. I have my sources looking for more info. I will let you know as soon as I know."
"So you're going to be working with me this time? You're not going all lone-ranger on me?"
"Oh, I really hurt your feelings, didn't I, slug princess?" Jiraiya said, teasing her now.
Tsunade growled under her breath. "Get out now. Don't come back unless you have information for me, old toady ecchi."
Jiraiya chuckled. "I missed you, Tsunade."
Yeah, I missed you too, you idiot. "Fine, get out." Be safe.
He smiled again. He always seemed to read her mind.
"Always am, Tsunade."
Welcome back, you old pervert.
"Kabuto-sama; the Nara boy, the Sannin, and the jinchūriki are all back in Konohagakure."
Naito looked up from his bare feet to look up at Kabuto's face, trying to gauge his reaction to the messenger's news. The snake-like male stopped playing with the anaconda winding up and down his arms, a slow and sinister smile creeping onto his too-wide lips. Naito wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them into him. He really hated Kabuto. He hated every single thing about him, and he really wanted to plunge his knife into Kabuto's neck and watch his blood pour over the blade, but he was realistic in his capabilities and therefore knew he wouldn't get away with it. He knew that he was a toy, a plaything, his pet; and he knew that unless his men got stupid that wouldn't change.
"Perfect," he hissed, sending a shiver rolling down Naito's back. Naito may hate him, but he was also justly afraid of him. Anyone who was able to overpower his church the way he did deserved his fear. His hand moved, grabbed Naito behind the head and beginning to painfully pet him. Naito scowled, but said nothing. Saying anything would not help him. Kabuto would just continue. "Did you make sure everyone was marked, Naito?"
"Yes," Naito responded, knowing better than to hesitate with his response. He was no immortal, after all, and he needed to keep alive. If not for himself, then for his all-too-important precious person, who he wanted desperately to find.
"Including yourself?"
"Yes."
"Excellent," Kabuto hissed again, his smile widening as he regarded the angry youth to his side. His bloodlust and murderous rage, as well as his fear, were all amusing to Kabuto. He loved overpowering such a strong soul, and he couldn't wait to kill the little psychotic bastard and taking what he wanted from his cold, dead body. Immortality. This boy was the key to it all, to the secret of being truly immortal, to being everything Orochimaru could never achieve. He turned back to his messenger, who flinched at the sinisterly happy look in Kabuto's crazed eyes. "Then commence with phase two. Get me the pieces I need."
