The Red and the Black

By Kay

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, gave up trying a long time ago. There's a 12-step program for it, you know.

Author's Notes: Whew. So. Here's the prologue, after having planned this entire monster out and decided on a style to finally use. I'm not sure I like the prologue because it feels overly dramatic and OOC on Kakashi's part, but I chalk it up to the fact that he's young—he won't sound like the guy we know and love until later in the story. And trust me, he'll be there. All our favorites will be there. Though the majority of this is Sasuke's story, and to that extent Naruto's, I won't be leaving out the Konoha residents that captured our hearts.

This is ridiculously AU, because it's not even specifically set in our world, though it's absolutely similar to the modern earth around us. It's not confusing, I promise. But it also means that sometimes the police force or healers work differently (okay, so I didn't know how to write out the procedures, shut up) and some things are off, but they'll always be explained. That being said, there are several questions in this multichapter fic that won't be resolved until a long time after—but if you're dying to know something or are curious, I'll answer my reviews. :)

This is NARUSASU, along with several other pairings between Konoha residents that are for the majority heterosexual save for a few. Not everyone is gay. Just Naruto and Sasuke. And Sasuke doesn't even know it yet, nor will it be a huge deal in the story, because some things just... fall into place. This whole story is about falling into place, as a matter of fact, in every way possible. Deal.

But please enjoy. I'm so grateful to all my readers, you guys seriously make bread taste better and make the sun shine longer. You're all amazing. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you like it!

Prologue: The Uchiha Murders

In the span of one night, the entire Uchiha empire was narrowed to two.

If Hatake Kakashi wasn't seeing it already with his own eyes, hadn't already walked the unbearably silent hallways and checked the multitude of body bags being carefully sealed all over the grounds, he would have never believed it. Or maybe he would have, given a little time—the larger and more formidable the enemy, the harder they tended to fall. And the Uchiha families were anything but pushovers.

Kakashi shifted uneasily, concentrating on his methodical search through the debris left behind in the living room of the Uchiha estate. He'd been here once—a fancy dinner party, something no lowly police officer should attend, but he'd known an Uchiha once, had served with him as a partner, and that was enough to warrant a coolly placed invitation. He'd worn his first tuxedo. The walls had been covered with rich, elaborate paintings instead of thick trails of blood and pieces of human waste Kakashi didn't especially want to think about, and he'd eaten a chocolate-covered cricket that put him off any sort of dinner for the rest of the night. He couldn't even recognize the room right now, not still heavy with the stench of corpses.

Things change. Kakashi had painful reminders of that fact; one was traced down the length of his left eye, a scar he'd not bothered to hide for years. Apparently the Uchiha families had never thought of that possibility, though, because no one had been prepared.

'No one ever is,' Kakashi mused absently, watching the paramedics check the pulse of another body, shake their heads, and bag it up. He tugged his scarf tighter around his mouth, not so much to escape the cold as to avoid inhaling the cloying scents around him. You could spend years in the force, here in the city, and never get used to it.

It was better than being outside, though; Kakashi knew from experience. Outside they were questioning and calming the survivors—the death toll seemed to be comprised solely of Uchiha family members, disregarding the many servants and guests who'd awoken to discover the grisly scenes outside their bedroom walls. It had been the middle of the night—still was, as a matter of fact. No warning. No alert from the security alarms, and Kakashi knew they were the newest, best of designs. Crickets couldn't even get in the perimeter without someone knowing.

Crickets didn't kill almost fifty Uchiha powerhouses, Kakashi reminded himself. At least, it was very unlikely.

The Uchiha family. It wasn't going to be easy, Kakashi thought, his heart sinking. There were too many enemies there. Too many grudges and powerful people who would have been happy to see the self-created empire fall in the city. It had been years, all of which were filled with hatred and loathing for the well-bred family, since the first of them had started taking seats in places of great control. Uchihas were everywhere in this city. They were politicians, they were corporate leaders, they called the shots in the underworld and respectable world alike—they spread like the plague, one family member raising another to a higher position, the interlocked families ascending to "thrones" of power like they had a divine right to it because of their uncanny business sense and ruthless demeanors.

Kakashi had never really liked the Uchiha families, but he hadn't wanted them dead. But there were plenty of other jealous or slighted people who did.

"This is going to suck," he said, and knotted his scarf again.

Really, though, it was their own fault. The Uchiha pride had been their ultimate downfall, Kakashi admitted pensively. He picked his way across the room, scanning intently for any scrap of evidence that wasn't reeking of human entrails. The Uchihas had gathered in one place like they were waiting for extermination—this ridiculously large estate, the grounds that spanned for blocks locked inside white iron fences and stone walls, left no way out. All the family members, down to their children and grandchildren, aunts and uncles, cousins, hell, even their family friends and associates…

They had stayed together because of pride, because they were elite and superior of blood, because they were stupid. This was what happened to people like that.

"How the mighty have fallen," Kakashi told one of the few paintings left unmolested. A nearby paramedic gave him a disgusted look. He smiled back, though the man probably didn't see it correctly through his scarf.

"Fallen hard, the sons of bitches," said Genma from the doorway. Kakashi turned, inclining his head in greeting to the other officer. Like him, Genma was bundled up for winter, a scowl worrying a toothpick between his teeth. "Luckily, the bastard made it easy for us."

"It's never that easy," Kakashi mildly pointed out, sauntering over to his friend's side. "You have to look underneath the underneath."

"Look underneath this then," Genma said, rolling his eyes and tossing Kakashi a plastic, sealed bag with a single piece of paper in it. Kakashi studied the ornate golden touches at the edges of the sheet, the elegant black calligraphy and Uchiha stamp, a single paper fan, near the top corner.

"A confession?" he guessed, and began to read.

And then stopped.

"The fucker wiped them all out," Genma said, amazement warring with the horror under current in his voice. "His own kin. Jesus. I won't sleep for weeks."

Kakashi cursed. It was a rare event.

He read the paper a few more times, but it never went down easier. The lurch in his gut remained there, a swollen emotion of disturbance and anger hardening in his belly, even though it wasn't his problem, wasn't his family. But Kakashi knew things changed, and things went bad, and people became worse than what they were meant to, and he hadn't forgotten that feeling of betrayal. The sickening, final twist to the knife.

"He didn't want the companies," Kakashi said. "It was purely personal. He didn't even care that we knew."

"We've checked all the bodies and the surveillance cameras. He's not here. We can't figure out where the hell he got out, but he's not here. Not unless he knows something we don't, but they'll send out the dogs once the blood dries and the smell gets easier." Genma nervously gnawed on his toothpick, rubbing his gloves together. "They've called out the warrant already for his arrest. Even if he is somehow innocent or was set up…"

"Not likely," Kakashi shook his head. He carefully handed the letter back, his face hard. "It's hard to fake that kind of insanity. Where's the boy?"

"The little brother?"

"Is he still alive? The letter said he would be." Kakashi grimly scanned the windows and the flashing lights of the police bordering the grounds. "And if Itachi Uchiha is right, he'd be the only one."

'I've left you a single mouse to play with, but he's been taught not to squeak. I've always loved my little brother, make no mistake, and he loves me in return—by the end, he wasn't even screaming. If you play for him, he will clap his hands. Sasuke is a good boy.' The words were burned into Kakashi's brain, vicious imprints that left a trail of bitterness behind. It had been the softest, most human part of a letter otherwise filled with skewed reasonings and polite, chilling sentences that would later haunt Kakashi's nightmares sometimes at night, exchanging his usual demons for others.

Things changed. Things went bad. People became worse than they were meant to. Kakashi looked at Genma and felt a thousand years old, just waiting.

"Not out of love," Genma said. And then, "Yeah. He's alive."

Kakashi wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Expressionless, he nodded to Genma to lead the way—neither used words, and Genma understood and motioned for Kakashi to follow him to the front door exit.

Sasuke Uchiha was with Shizune, tucked far back into an ambulance set carefully apart from the others as if it would shield the world from its interior. Genma rapped on the door a few times and Shizune, an attractive dark-haired doctor they'd both worked with before, checked the window before opening the door, face unreadable.

"Kakashi. Genma."

"He's alive," Kakashi confirmed, already looking past her to the seat where Sasuke Uchiha was curled up, his face turned away from them and hidden by pools of black, inky hair. He looked small. Small and fragile and too young, too much like he was going to break if anyone touched him, and Kakashi felt something in him squeeze like an iron band despite his rock-hard countenance. "How old is he?" he asked abruptly, needing the distance but needing to know this even more first.

Shizune followed his gaze, her eyes darkening. "Too young," she answered just as abruptly. "Just a baby. I think he's seven, but he could just be small for his age."

"Not a baby," Genma muttered halfheartedly, but his heart was bleeding out of his eyes, too. He avoided looking at anyone in particular. "Can we come in? The vultures will be here soon, you know. Taking pictures."

Shizune silently assented, moving aside, and shut the door behind the men as the car and took seats opposite of Sasuke. Even now, they couldn't see his face—he pressed it to the ambulance wall, his shirt tucked over his neck to expose his back and the messy gash that was trailing rivulets of maroon from his left shoulder blade down his spine. Sharp blade, Kakashi noted dully, and watched as Shizune sat next to Sasuke and began to apply gauze to staunch the bleeding.

Her voice was calm and professional, if somewhat crisp, despite the tender movements of her hands. "He's a little bruised at his knees and elbows, but nothing's broken. His only major wound is composed of several small, efficient slices in the skin of his left shoulder blade, but not near the bone. He'll need stitches, but it's not dangerous. One of his wrists is sprained. As soon as I get this dressed enough to make the trip easier, we'll be taking him to the hospital with police escorts. I don't suppose you—"

"They'll want us here," Genma answered reluctantly. "There's still too much to pick through and I'm in charge of the investigation this time."

"Good for you," Shizune said, smiling politely. Genma didn't answer.

Kakashi studied the little boy quietly, eyes hooded. The kid was trembling imperceptibly, little violent shivers that would pause, fade out, and begin again every minute or so. His fingers were clenched in a knot on his lap like he was in pain, but he hadn't made a single sound. Hadn't even flinched at Shizune's cautious administrations.

"Has he said anything?" he asked.

Shizune's hands stilled, but her eyes still focused intently on the wound. "No. Not yet. He hasn't spoken a word since we found him, he just keeps shaking. He doesn't respond to half of what's said or done, it's a combination of—"

She stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, it's just… this wound…" She trailed off, voice trembling for a moment, and tightened her grip on the little boy's shoulder.

"What is it?" Kakashi asked sharply.

For a second, she didn't say anything. But then, quietly padding around the bleeding wound with a wad of gauze, she took up another piece of white padding in her hand and pressed it quickly, tightly, to the wound. The little boy whimpered. She pressed a kiss to his dark head and removed it, took a glance at the blood stain, and silently handed it over to Kakashi. Then she lovingly stroked Sasuke's hair, over and over, her fingers quivering.

Kakashi studied the clear marks that had imprinted onto the cloth, Genma stretching over his shoulder to study them, too.

Kakashi closed his eyes.

"That sick fuck," Genma said. "That… I…"

Kakashi put a hand out, just hovering above touching Genoa's shoulder. The man fell silent, his breathing raspy in the cold air. They stayed that way, only the sound of Shizune murmuring soft, nonsensical comfort noises into Sasuke's ear, carefully running her hand over his hair over and over again to no avail—the boy was completely lost in his own world, eyes blank and hidden, shuddering with little jerks that threatened to jar his entire body.

Kakashi ripped up the cloth and opened his eyes, letting the pieces flutter to the ground.

"Sasuke," he said then, and stopped. Met Shizune's eyes. She gave him a weak smile, pressed another kiss to the boy's head, and started to wrap the wound. He waited until she'd finished and carefully tucked Sasuke's shirt down again, pressing fingers to his shoulders as they spasmed once again, and then picked up a gray woolen blanket folded neatly under the seat.

"Hey kid," he said, sitting in front of Sasuke. The boy didn't turn his head from the wall, but from this point he could see the pale, softly rounded features of his face. The curve of his cheek was wet with tears. His chin didn't stop moving, softly mouthing words into the padded surface of the ambulance side.

"Below courage there's nothing," Kakashi said, deceptively gentle. He shook out the blanket and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders, barely touching them but still letting the weight of the action sink into the tiny body. "Things change. Things get bad. People become worse than what they were meant to be… but if you live another day, if you make yourself stronger, you can overcome that. You can surround yourself again with people you love. You can have second chances, provided you're not stupid enough to lose them."

Shizune made a protesting sound, but fell silent again. Kakashi removed his mild glare and concentrated solemnly on Sasuke's face again. His arms had stopped shivering.

"Someone told me that a long time ago. And sometimes I believe it, sometimes I don't. But you won't have the chance if you don't remember to breathe, Sasuke. You always have to breathe."

Sasuke lifted his head.

"My brother," he said hoarsely, face crumbling. He had very dark eyes. Eyes Kakashi sometimes saw in the mirror. "My brother…"

"You'll do just fine," Kakashi promised, and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder again. Then, standing and letting it simply brush away from his neck, he turned to Genma and nodded. "Let's go. I want to search the house again."

Behind him, Sasuke started to weep. Kakashi didn't look back.

It would only be several years later that he saw Sasuke Uchiha in pieces again, stuck and unable to move forward—but at the private trial, he hadn't sobbed, hadn't moved his face from the stony mask he'd set it into—and later, the few photos the press had managed to capture had shown the same cold, almost lifeless work of art. But he was breathing. Barely. Kakashi was good at telling these things. The next time he saw Sasuke in tears wouldn't be for a long time yet, however, and that would be the moment of seeing whether he'd taken Kakashi's advice or not.

Itachi Uchiha was not on the Uchiha estate. They looked for over a year trying to find him in the city before giving up and trying to stay on their tiptoes, but nothing came up. The cities slowly relaxed. Kakashi quit his job. He bought an ugly van the shade of purple and set up to leave, not really sure of why or where he would go.

When Sasuke was twelve, he disappeared.

Kakashi wasn't terribly surprised. If anything, he'd expected it sooner.

End of the Prologue

Next Chapter: Konoha, Flowerbeds, and Unpacking Your Life