Chapter 1: Prologue (Re-Write)

This is not the original story; all credit goes completely to ShadowofheartsXIII, which is titled, 'Seeking Answers'. Though I've heard that it was deleted a while back, I would like to pick up where he left off – so I am rewriting this from scratch.

Disclaimer: Don't own. No profit.

'We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?'
― William Golding

'Where now are the storm and shadow? Where now is the rain, you promised?'

This is what we call "reality". A *splash* in mindful entropy. The illusion of choice and happiness. Humanity is a creature of extremity... of passion. Where there is middle ground... there is hedonic self-indulgence of it...

A thresh of eyes unrolled its gaping jaws. Its veins lubricating the darkness a faint, bloody glow. My drowning bubbles popped like jellyfish in sputtering vents of volcanic motes. The searing gorge burning flesh till withered and scorched. A sunken galaxy of blossom lilies caressed my skin. Slow skerrick cuts as petals became nails and anthers adorned claws. My verklempt heart was unbound, sinister fingers worming into its valves and screaming...

'Terrible... numberless... glorious...'

Drowning alone, tumbling darker and deeper... tell me, brother... why could I not come with you?

I awoke with the prancing of hairs on my forearm; dashes of sweat left my sides as I bolted to the waking pain of dull sunshine in my eyes. My arm dialled round wet battlefields on my bedsheets. Hills of memories and soon-to-be-forgotten dreams. My nerves buckled with sullen boredom as I went through the odd process of changing the damp doona one-handed. Another strange night.

Peeling the curtains, I went to aerate the apartment. Rays of light eclipsed my hand against the iridescent glass as cold sprinkles of a winter rainstorm danced to the warmth of my print. Fibres of flickering street lights reanimated the afternoon a dull red spindle. I pushed the window ajar slightly, a salty breeze fanning my lungs with a cake of wispy brumal air.

The growl of my gut kicked me into action. My kitchen smelt of the bizarre accent of shuffled shoes and hurried aftermarkets, my ingredients in all the wrong places. I smirked - as I knew they'd gone out to buy some more as I make an effort to own so little. The owner of said marks, however, did leave behind a little beverage. Perked up on the near corner of the counter, bolting down a deftly scribbled note ending with a name.

I peered over to investigate this little breakfast message. It was "Egg... in a cup." I sniffed, reeling back from the waft of fish sauce and something determinably spicy. Jarred, though intrigued... I would not deign to waste my adopted ingredients so easily. Down the hatch, I expected regret. I was, however, pleasantly surprised. Turns out Kakashi could concoct a good prairie oyster.

I flung the note a few times before it stood to attention for me - blinking it all with a dark flash of my eyes. I like Kakashi's' calligraphy. Out of all of team 7, his was most legible – with his humble, low 'i' dots and T bars. Simple yet elegant. There was little time to process before the click of the door handle silenced my mind, "I'm going to need you to pay all this back." Kakashi moaned. His hair angling to the side of a shambling tower of vegetables. There was a slight grunt before his eyes were able to too.

I mumbled an insult under my breath, "... is it too much to ask me first, Kakashi?"

"Well, I figured to at least cook with you before you left... I'm not sure if you're ready or not, so just to be sure," he chortled, shuffling his shoulders with a huff, "... you're not exactly going to get many opportunities. You gonna let me put this down?"

I looked to the empty counter, "As long as you don't throw it... I mean, do you really need my permission? You read so much porn; I'd thought you'd forget it exists."

"Funny. I see prison hasn't dulled your angst, you little shit."

"Was it supposed to? I think I'd melt."

"Sarcasm too..."

Kakashi hobbled around me and soon had most of the ingredients sorted around neatly.

"Mission." I demanded, half spinning a freshly ripened tomato.

"Tonight, I believe."

I paused into a smile, leisurely starting the stove before I noticed the wry gaze of my teacher. His unmoving hands tenderly pinched on a lean mince of crab meat. His eyes slowly searched to the ground, and a sigh hummed through his mask. We quietly plunged along to the singe of frying woks, bubbling broth and wafting herbs. I made an effort to clean on the go. And was amused by several odd hums from my sensei, a copy of make out tactics next to the station he occupied. We continued on into the early evening, the belts of Venus blaring softly through closed bamboo blinds. The creak of the sink echoing with each thud from a slow leaking *tap* *tap*.

He placed four bowls. The realization crossed my mind a little too late, as the doorbell rang and the eager sounds of idiots behind tempered glass made me nauseous. Supper with Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi, a rich crab, pork and tomato noodle soup. It was moments like these where I truly felt like sleepwalking through misery. It was almost challenging to enjoy the meal. With all the screaming, yelling and punching. An abrasive, tough love. Idiots. Nay, borderline mentally challenged... or who am I kidding? Legitimately retarded!

Naruto pretended to dislike the noodles, despite emptying another bowl into his gullet. Every second of every minute, Sakura had passively edged her way closer to me, trying to insert herself into my peripherals. She is an excessively needy person; it is her most unattractive quality. There was some television watching, and snacks I didn't even know existed in my pantry had soon disappeared. Kakashi had a keen eye for hiding things in my home.

"Cya soon, Sasuke!"

"Bye, Sasuke-Kun."

I whirled about to the Hatake, who was still seated at the dinner table. With a moment of hesitation and eyes that beckoned to the seat opposite his – I sat.

Nobody had globes like Kakashis'. They were like black ice on a foggy mountain path, the air thin and groggy, like an insulated darkness cleft by time. They were mature beyond their years. A discarnate glaze heaved his weary, sable orbs. Eyes that when they stare with heartful criticism, demanded you to stay awhile... and listen. And they were pointed right at me.

I blinked him a question, 'Do they know?' and he shook in response. He reached into his breast pocket, daintily driving a leaf headband towards the middle of the table.

"I worry about you, Sasuke," he uttered slowly, his digit tracing the grooved vaults of the leaf symbol, "... mission after mission after mission... much too eager." he sucked at the end of his sentence, the chair creaking as he shrugged his body.

I leered, "Your cooking wasn't that disinteresting to me, Kakashi."

He made an effort to chuckle, "I'm serious. We just got you back."

I gave a reassuring smile and snatched the headband, my body turning into the jolt of a yank. I shifted. Kakashi's hand seized tightly to the other side of the headband. I gifted him a forsworn look, which he seemed to almost entirely ignore. At this point, I was hankering to leave – it was almost midnight, and I needed this.

He spoke in deadpan, "I don't want another friend dying. Naruto and Sakura don't need that either," he stood, his hold on the headband now gingerly ensnared, "... this is an S-rank mission. I was told, it may take several years."

My heart sank. A breadth of emotions surged through my lungs like red, volcanic thunder. My sensei seemed to smile at what was apparently a flustered look on my face. I gripped tighter, "I do not want to be loved... that much is in abundance. I am searching for another... I do not yet know its path or what another destination should be – but I AM looking!"

Kakashi let go. Palming the band in a gesture to my chest. "Honesty, your compass. Passion your sword. Be still..." he slotted it into my sash, purring in satisfaction. He brought out another item. Its glint revealed itself as a syringe of viscous white fluid, "...vulnerabilities are the best exercise in strength, fortitude and ideas. Cloak yourself in wanderlust." he jostled my sleeve for a bit; I blinked at the sting of a needle and breathed deeply.

"And now?" I whispered.

He smirked "Your arm. That will take a little while. Cloaked in innocence... when next we meet... it shall be as men."

Long after he'd left, I slowly gathered a handful of belongings. Did I want to go that badly? Would I miss this? What would it mean if I didn't? I shut the front door behind me and gazed greedily upon Konoha.

Several years? We shall see.