The Red and the Black

By Kay

Disclaimer: See the Prologue. See the Prologue laugh at you viciously.

Author's Notes: Well, that wasn't too painful. Now we come to present day and the moment you've all been waiting for—Sasuke makes his first appearance as the sullen, frigid icicle we all know and love. Though a little softer here, he'll get back to his normal pissy self soon enough, don't worry.

I think the house descriptions are too long, but I tried not to make them too painful. I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry, I hope it doesn't ruin the story. At least they're out of the way for the most part. A lot of this story's very sensory and deals with the house later, though, which is why I needed it. Still feel stupid about it, though.

Iruka is a tough, awesome man. I adore him. He'll be here a lot, too.

Am looking forward to any critism I can use or suggestions, though not on the plot (it's all figured out). I hope this chapter is okay! Thank you so much for reading and, if you do, reviewing! This is my first venture into this fandom, and I'm so happy it's with this piece because it's really near and dear to my heart… (hugs) Thank youuu.

Chapter One: Konoha, Flowerbeds, and Unpacking Your Life

There were flowerbeds. Sasuke Uchiha scowled heavily and made sure to stomp over them on his way up to the front door.

"This is it?" he demanded, eyeing the dilapidated farmhouse towering two stories above him. It was painted white. Sasuke hated houses painted white. He especially hated houses that weren't even painted white well, and this place with its chipped flakes and mud-caked façade was as far away from being in good condition as a house could possibly become. The front porch—three steps up, and he had to skip the first two that had caved in and jump awkwardly onto the platform—seemed to be sagging down into the ground, a big crater in the center of the wood.

Sasuke stomped on the planks. Something below them crunched.

"She's probably the oldest house in Konoha, but no one has lived here for years," the man behind him said, and stepped up next to Sasuke with a sheepish grin that Sasuke ignored. "I've been keeping some of the grounds up a bit, and making sure no one's camped out inside, but overall the property hasn't been touched for over a decade. No one comes to Konoha anymore, you know. It's hard to find tenants who would rent the place on top of fixing it up."

"I can see why," Sasuke muttered. Under the overhang of the porch, the sunlight wasn't so bright; he could blink away the scattered dots behind his eyelids. Up close, farmhouse seemed even more old and wrecked than he'd previously thought—the windows were covered with stapled-down blankets ruined by the weather, sometimes seeming to lack screens and even, for a few, glass panes. The weeds had eaten up the foundation, if there was indeed still a working one.

Sasuke was disgusted with it. It was a far cry from the small, cozy and clean apartment he'd left in the city. Worlds apart, even.

"I'll take it," he said.

The man, whose dark hair had been pulled up in a high ponytail with a dirty scrap of embroidered handkerchief, looked startled. Sasuke hadn't bothered to learn his last name—hadn't really gotten the chance, actually, considering the man had greeted him and said, "I'm Iruka," before starting into a one-sided conversation about how nice it was to see a new face, and that he was so pleased to see Sasuke, and wasn't it a beautiful day outside for this?

He was disgustingly nice—he'd met Sasuke on the road, all wide smiles and waves, and tried to offer to treat him to lunch at least twice before Sasuke blew him off. He'd expressed concern over the fact that Sasuke had pretty much walked from the nearest bus stop miles away, occasionally getting short rides from grain transporters who happened to pass, lugging his huge black suitcase behind him (it was the only thing Sasuke had bothered to bring, and gave Iruka another irritatingly worried expression). "That sort of thing's dangerous, even around here," Iruka had fretted, seemingly torn between scolding Sasuke and patting him down for injuries, "Although, I suppose, you're from such a large city in Sound…"

Iruka would have been swallowed alive in the city, not just because of his soft attitude and his tendency to chatter about the town, the children running around, or how the best pies were baked by Chouji Akimichi. (He hadn't shut up for a minute between meeting Sasuke out by the rusted mailbox by the empty road and the walk up the long, winding driveway up to the house.) The only distinctive feature about Iruka was the thick scar running across his nose, and the simple fact that he was utterly different from anyone Sasuke was used to talking to.

If the rest of Konoha was like this, Sasuke never planned to leave his house.

"I-if you're sure you…" Iruka trailed off uncertainly, scratching his chin. "Don't you want to see inside? It's not the prettiest place to live, I have to confess. You'd probably do much better in town, I know Neji has an open apartment above the bookstore—"

"I want to live here," Sasuke said firmly. The farther away from town, the better off he'd be; Iruka had mentioned a thirty minute walk from the farmhouse to the main center of Konoha, and all Sasuke could see around him was farmland and the tall stalks of corn swaying softly against the blue of the sky. The nearest place was another barn and small white house he'd passed on his way here, a good length away. It was quiet. It wasn't anything like the city. "You take cash, don't you? I can only pay my rent installments in cash."

"O-of course, but don't you—"

"I'll pay for the first three months now. I don't want to be bothered with remembering until after I've settled in and adjusted."

"You don't have to worry about it!" Iruka protested, holding up his hands as if trying to ward off Sasuke's intensity. He smiled nervously, dark eyes crinkling with his amusement and accompanying concern. "Really, you don't have to worry about it. You'll need everything right now to pay for… for, well, clothes and food. And just the cost of making this place livable! You don't need to worry at all, Mr. Chidori, just take your time, ah, settling in and getting adjusted and finding a job in town. I can recommend you to a few, if you'd like it, and then when that's all over you can start paying rent for—"

"I'll pay now," Sasuke interrupted flatly. He wrenched a beaten leather wallet out of his black jeans pocket, and opened it to find a wad of wrinkled bills. He carefully slipped a few out, pinching and rubbing the sheets to make sure nothing stuck together. "How much for three months?"

Iruka was staring at his wallet, wide-eyed. Sasuke felt the back of his neck burn in embarrassment and shifted uncomfortably at the scrutiny. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that it was different from in the city. In the city, no one blinked when a seemingly young man with grungy pants and a blue shirt that had seen better roads started pawing through several hundred dollar bills. Here, out in the middle of nowhere, with just dust and ugly farmhouses and a man who probably hadn't made that much money in a year, it just looked suspicious.

Suspicious was the last thing Sasuke needed.

"My uncle," he said. "He just passed away. He left me… almost everything, actually, so I decided to get away from the way I'd been living. Start fresh. It's what he would have wanted."

Sasuke had almost choked on the words—actor he was not, and he'd seen better lines on reality television—but Iruka ate them whole. "I'm s-so sorry," the man stammered, his face falling. "You… it must have been very hard on you, and he must have loved you very much to take such good care of your future. I'm sorry for staring. It was offensive and rude."

"Not really," Sasuke mumbled. His neck was hot again.

He could tell Iruka wanted to tell him to keep the money again, possibly even more than before, but was torn between the fact it might seem even more rude to do so. After a moment, sighing heavily, the man said, "For three months, rent would be… three hundred even."

It wouldn't be; Sasuke remembered, vaguely, the extremely old clipping from the backwater paper and it hadn't been that cheap even for a screwed up farmhouse in the middle of dead-last country land. Iruka was being disgustingly nice again. But even with as much as he'd withdrawn from his secret bank account for the first time in a year, Sasuke wanted to plan for all emergencies, and so he just nodded and handed three single bills to Iruka, arm jutting out firmly like he was holding a weapon rather than crisp, new money.

"Thank you."

"Of course," murmured Iruka, absentmindedly pocketing the rent. He frowned a bit at Sasuke. "Would you like me to ask around for open jobs or did you plan to wait?"

"I won't be working. I'm fixing up the house first, then maybe I'll start searching," Sasuke lied.

Iruka glanced over his shoulder at the singular luggage piece still sitting forlornly on the beaten pathway leading up to the house—it was nearly unrecognizable after being dragged down the dirt road beside countless fields. "You don't have a car. I thought you would… but I suppose, really, you look so young—"

"I'm nineteen," Sasuke said, dismissively. He tried not to feel irritated. "I don't like cars. It's too much effort owning them." And far too easy to trace them, he added internally, shoving his hands in his pockets with an annoyed sigh. Walking that many miles had been the worst experience of his life; he was sweating in places he didn't even want to think about and his knees were killing him. The sooner Iruka left, the better, but experience had taught Sasuke that letting one person get "the scoop" would take care of a lot of future gossip. Hopefully it would be the last time he ever had to be even halfway social with any of the townspeople.

Not hopefully, he reminded himself. Definitely.

"You should call," Iruka said quietly, sympathy soft in his expression. Sasuke fought the swell of anger in his stomach at the sight of it, again, having seen it too many times. "If you want a ride to town, all you have to do is give me a ring—my number's pinned up in the kitchen on a billboard, you'll see it, it wouldn't be any trouble. Or if you'd like someone to bring you groceries or—"

"That won't be necessary," Sasuke interrupted, halting the nervous babble. He tried to smile, but it felt more like he was gritting his teeth. "Walking is good for me. I bought some canned food to last the night."

"Oh."

"I'm used to living alone," Sasuke added when Iruka still bit his lip, and immediately cringed upon realizing it was exactly the wrong thing to say. The man hid his first stricken expression quickly, schooling it into a strained smile, and Sasuke wanted to strangle him but wasn't sure which action had made him angrier. "I like living alone," he bit out viciously, somewhat mollified when Iruka stopped smiling.

"Of course," Iruka said hastily. The smile came back, though.

"I moved here specifically because I wanted to be alone."

"Well, you won't be completely alone. Kiba and Hinata live just down from here, you know, you must have passed their place on the way down—and the town will be just happy to have you, we've got a great school that I've taught at for years, and everyone's very accepting," Iruka rushed to add, as if he didn't believe Sasuke. "Oh, and if you're looking for the general store, Asuma and Kurenai own the only one in Konoha, but it's really quite diverse. If you want anything, they can order it for you. They don't deliver, but really, just let me know if you need a quick stop there, or I can even arrange a regular person to drop things off, you won't have to make impromptu trips."

"I don't want—"

"Really, though, it might take a while to get the kitchen settled and cleared up. If you want a good hot meal, there's a restaurant called The Nine Tails, I know the owner personally and he'd be happy to have another customer," Iruka eagerly encouraged, apparently not put off by Sasuke's disgruntled face. "Naruto has always been—"

"It's fine," Sasuke insisted, stiffening further. "I'm fine, the house is fine, everything's fine, and I'm very tired so…"

"Of course!" He'd said the magic words; Iruka straightened with a nearly audible snap, flushing. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think of… but of course you'd be exhausted, all the way from the bus stop! Please, please call next time if you need a ride."

"I will," Sasuke forced, strained. "Thank you. For everything."

"And if you need any help fixing up the house, we'd be happy to help."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sasuke said, and rushed to get his luggage so Iruka wouldn't see the tight grimace he was having trouble hiding. Iruka followed him down.

"Be careful if you go in the attic, I'm not sure how stable the floors are," the man added in warning, and there was the sound of rustling. "Oh, I almost forgot…"

Sasuke turned, tiredly staring at him. Iruka turned a little red again, grinning sheepishly with his hand rummaging through his coat pocket. "What else?"

"The… I can't find… the keys," Iruka said, and finally produced a small set of chipped gold keys set in an ordinary key ring. There was a keychain dangling from it of a plastic daffodil. Sasuke winced when he took them. "They should open up everything. The biggest is for the front door, and the smaller ones are for the basement, attic, and various storage rooms," Iruka continued, absentmindedly rubbing his neck as he craned it upwards to stare at the two-story façade of the house. He was squinting in the sun, much like Sasuke, who followed his gaze automatically. "It's fully furnished, but feel free to move anything around. None of the furniture's mine. It all belonged to the previous owner."

Sasuke nodded. "What happened to him?" he asked, reluctantly curious despite himself.

Iruka shrugged, and smiled a bit oddly. "He died… in a fire, I believe. Konoha has trouble with fires sometimes, it's so dry. But nothing's happened for a long time. Not anything. And this house," he indicated it with a nod, "has been through a lot through the years and is still standing, so as long as you don't drop any matches and gasoline…"

"Ah." Sasuke's fingers slowly curled around the keys. "Thank you again… Mr. Iruka."

"Just Iruka," the man insisted, and was so utterly warm about it that Sasuke felt his initial irritation smooth out a little and dissipate into a hesitant, shy sort of relief. This wasn't anything like the city, he thought, and imagined he could even conjure up a smile. He must have done something, anyway, because Iruka brightened like he'd won the lottery.

"Iruka," he agreed. "Then… just Sasuke."

"You should let me treat you to dinner during your first week, Sasuke," Iruka responded with a gentle smile.

"Maybe."

For a moment, Iruka seemed ready to press the matter, but he changed his mind. "My number's in the kitchen," he reminded Sasuke, and flashed him one more empathic glance before turning to walk down the road. "Remember that!"

Sasuke frowned.

"I will," he finally said, unsure if the man could hear his milder agreement when he was jogging down the driveway. From the wave of his tanned hand, Iruka had. For a minute, Sasuke watched him go, contemplating the strangeness of the last two days—his feet ached, his head hurt, the dust was making his throat itch, and he hadn't even stepped foot inside of his new residence…

'Nothing like the city at all,' Sasuke thought, somewhat wistfully because no one would know except him, anyway. 'Konoha. What a strange place. Even in the other small towns, people weren't so…'

He wouldn't have let his guard down if he hadn't been so tired. But really, it hadn't been so bad. Maybe things would be different here. Maybe Sasuke wouldn't have to be so careful. If everyone was like Iruka—

'Ah. But that's stupid,' Sasuke reminded himself harshly. He turned to stare warily up at the length of his new abode. 'One person is enough to change your mind? Idiot. It's being weak like that, that's what will end this whole game. Don't forget, Uchiha.'

His shadowed eyes darkened abruptly, masking any emotion automatically and efficiently. The tired lag to his steps vanished as he straightened, jaw clenched and shoulders tight with tension. 'That's right.'

He marched back to the house, the wheels to his suitcase squeaking behind him.

'Never forget.'

The house was in worse shape than Sasuke had even planned for, and he spared a moment to briefly thank disgustingly nice men that charged less rent for their underprivileged (albeit fictionally) tenants.

He was exhausted, but necessity and a burning need to establish his surroundings made Sasuke give the first floor a quick search through for any possibly nasty surprises or future problems. There was only one door in the entire house and that was the one he'd used—it was one of the things that had attracted him to the ad in the first place, and apparently it hadn't lied. The kitchen was dark; he ignored it for now, despite feeling his stomach growl for food. The entrance hallway was dusty enough that his footprints stood out clearly, a sure sign that Iruka had told the truth about making sure no kids took up the place as a hideout or a spot to commit mischief. The coat hanger still had a musky, moth-chewed overcoat limply draped over its arms.

He passed through the living room quickly, scowling briefly at the floor-length windows in one wall—he'd have to buy curtains that weren't disturbingly lacy and half-rotten. There were too many gaping holes for people to see through, were there actually people within a few miles radius, and had the windows not been so smeared over from neglect that they rendered visibility impossible. All the sofas and furniture were covered in white sheets and old, molding blankets.

"Enjoy your time here while you have it," Sasuke muttered to the conspicuous mouse holes near the base of the wall. "Mousetraps are the first thing on my grocery list."

Definitely not like his apartment. His clean, vermin-free apartment.

He checked the bathroom and closet connected to the hallway briefly, grimacing at the amount of cobwebs, but grateful that at least the lights were working and the plumbing seemed sound. (Even if the water gushed in spurts out of the faucet. Iruka told him over the phone when they first spoke that it might take a while to get warmed up.) He also unlocked the basement door and peered down, irrationally wary of the swallowing blackness as the stairs went down, and then locked it, promising himself roughly to check it out tomorrow morning.

The only real surprise had been what Sasuke decided to call the Music Room, however, by the end of his first level tour. Wide and empty with a carpeted floor still soft and deep enough for his shoes to sink into, the sunlight still drifted lazily through the smudged windows and over the piano left abandoned in the center. He nudged the sheet draped over it a little, carefully pressing a single, pale finger to the yellowing ivory keys.

The sound was entirely too loud in the silence. It would need to be tuned. Except, Sasuke thought tiredly as he pulled the sheet back over the keys, there would still be nobody to use it. He'd only known one person to ever play, and that had been…

'You played me Beethoven. Fur Elise. You said it was my song, and that was the reason you played it so often. That you could always hear me, and always had.'

Sasuke's fist hit the piano keys through the sheet with a clang. "God damn it!"

It took him several minutes of trying to control his heavy breathing before the deep, ugly ache in his chest eased a little bit. He scowled at the piano, rubbing his ribs like it would make the slicing pain go away. He hadn't known anything about a piano being here. Hadn't even considered it.

The day was getting worse and worse. The piano might have to go, but until he figured out how, Sasuke locked the door to the Music Room.

He went to the trouble of cursing and struggling to drag his suitcase all the way up the main staircase, which groaned so much that Sasuke was almost scared it would cave in like the outside steps. It didn't, however; the second floor hallway was decorated in hideous green, yellow and red floral designs, and Sasuke viciously booted it. "You're gone, too," he promised it darkly.

There were three bedrooms—one lacy and disgusting (Sasuke hated women, an even further hated their idea of decoration), another still painted the reds and blues of a little boy, with a tiny child-size bed and shelves filled with curious knick-knacks that almost made Sasuke stay for longer than he'd planned. He was swaying by now, though, and he rubbed his eyes before leaving. It had been a long two days of getting to Konoha by bus and sympathetic hitchhikers.

There was a green sitting room with chairs and wide windows, and empty shelves that only had a few books left to grace their surfaces. There was a desk for writing which Sasuke pressed his hand against, checking to see if it was solid before nodding in satisfaction. Afterwards, he checked the two linen closets, the second bathroom that had plumbing even worse than the first (but actually had a showerhead this time, to Sasuke's gratitude), and finally the room at the end of the hall.

The third bedroom became Sasuke's bedroom. Not because he really liked it any better, but because it seemed less lived-in, less caught in the past. Whoever stayed here had stripped the walls down to their ugly wallpaper, and the bed was a simple queen with brass-knobbed framework and plain white sheets. There weren't any blankets, but Sasuke didn't need any; it was still summer, still too hot and stuffy in the house. The first thing he did was rip off the plastic covering the single window and push the first layer up, grunting with effort, to let the air stream in with the sun.

"There," he said, and coughed until the dust cleared. There were dead bugs littering the inside between the glass and the screen, but he could clean up later. At least now Sasuke could breathe.

He thought about digging out a pair of sleeping pants, but his fingers felt heavy and the heat was making his head spin. Sasuke shook it briefly, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead. Two days. Two very long days. He would have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and the day after, and after that…

"I hate this place," Sasuke mumbled, regardless if it were true, pushing off his ratty shoes. He stumbled for the bed, landing on it and making the springs squeak under the mattress. It didn't seem too dirty—just old, and musty, and it smelt like faded peppermint and something Sasuke couldn't trace. He peeled off his jeans and sweat-dampened t-shirt and dumped them on the floor, inhaling deeply again, and burrowed under the light sheets. They felt cool on his skin, like new if it weren't for the scent.

'I won't need anything for myself,' Sasuke thought drowsily, pushing his face into the pillows. 'This will do. Everything will do… because in just another year, it won't matter, because…'

He slept the dead-sleep of bone-melting exhaustion, the summer breeze from the window bringing in the imprints of corn and lemongrass. He didn't wake up for nightmares, but it wouldn't have surprised him if he had.

Sasuke Uchiha knew all about nightmares. He was convinced his life was one of them.

End of Chapter One

Next Chapter: Chapter Two—The Nine Tails, Malnourishment, and First Impressions Suck