Was this what it felt like to die? Immeasurable pain until your mind could no longer feel it?

Naruto was never in so much pain before, and he was convinced Kisame was trying to kill him. His arm had to be broken in three different places and his ribs were on fire, making it difficult to breathe. He had to have internal damage. He had coughed up more blood than he was sure his body could hold, and his body was covered in it. His clothes were no more than pieces of fabric held together by a few strands, showing off the deep lacerations and bruises on his skin.

But now, Naruto could no longer feel any of it, his mind whiting out the pain and everything around him. Even so, Kisame's mocking voice cut through his temporary bliss.

"Get up," he commanded. "Where's all that fire you had in Tokyo? Or do you just rely on everyone else's power to save you?"

Naruto didn't respond, or more like he couldn't, his mind drifting into the comfort of oblivion until he was startled back to reality with a jolt that felt like electricity being shot through his system and snapping him back into his body and all the pain it contained.

"Get up," he repeated louder and sounding a lot more impatient.

Shaking arms struggled to get underneath him, but the moment Naruto put even just the slightest bit of weight on them, he collapsed once again onto the cold cement floor. He tried not to whimper. He really did, but it left his lips despite himself. He hadn't cried, but he wanted to as his eyes burned and begged to water, but then Kisame would get what he most likely wanted, to see him defeated.

"I said get up brat." The man reached down in one swift motion, pulling Naruto up by his hair and forcing him to his feet. Naruto wasn't standing long, however. Kisame delivered a kick to his knee.

Naruto cried out in pain and curled up on the floor, nursing his shattered knee. This couldn't be called training, could it? This was akin to a beating or torture. Naruto had not been able to land a single hit. He had not even been close. It hit home just how easy Kisame had been on him in Tokyo. It truly had been nothing more than a test back then.

"Pathetic," he spat out irritably. "Do you think your opponents will be quick with your death or show you mercy?!" He kicked him again, no longer even bothering with his sword anymore, this time to his stomach. He was kicked hard enough to be sent flying into the wall behind him, further cracking the tiles. "They will take their time with you. Play with you. Make you suffer."

He grasped his blood-soaked T-shirt and forced Naruto to look at him. "Battle isn't a little tea party that you have with your little pussy friends where you take turns and the winner backs down due to some stupid reason like respect for a loser who fought valiantly." He tossed him aside, watching Naruto collapse. "Battle is kicking a person while they're down, stabbing them in the back when they aren't looking. Battle is doing everything you can to ensure that you come out on top no matter what. If you want to survive, be ready for anything. Stand through the pain. Show no weakness."

He was approaching him again when Itachi's soft voice echoed in the room. "Kisame, that is enough. He is done for today."

Naruto couldn't see him, but he could feel Itachi's eyes roam over his pathetic state. Naruto couldn't even muster up the pride to feel ashamed. He couldn't put up a fight even if he wanted to, not with the sorry state his body was in.

"Pick him up," Itachi commanded.

Nausea swept over Naruto when Kisame roughly threw him onto his shoulder, and the large, empty, square room spun as he walked. There couldn't have been much food left in his stomach as much as he vomited during his training session, but he did his best to stop anything else from leaving. The passing scenery was a blur and the hallway tilted, making it hard to distinguish up from down or if the man who was carrying him was moving or standing still. He couldn't even tell where Kisame was taking him, but he endured it all to the best of his abilities.

The next thing Naruto knew, he was dropped onto an uncomfortable wooden chair. It took a moment to clear the spots from his vision and for the vertigo to settle due to the abrupt change in position. The room he was now in was dark with only a few torches to illuminate the inky blackness. It was a picture-perfect version of what a dungeon would look like: cold stone walls, metal cuffs hanging from the ceiling, and a musty scent to complete the setting.

Across the room was a naked man who was in worse shape than he was. His skin was the color of ivory his long dark hair and long tangled beard was matted with blood. His skin covered his ribs as if someone had taken a skeleton and stretched rubber over it, and his face was hollow and empty. Naruto couldn't be certain he was even breathing.

The man looked up at Naruto. He couldn't tell if the man was a vampire or human but the blank stare in the man's eyes sent unpleasant shivers down Naruto's spine, and he felt the urge to look away in discomfort.

Quickly losing interest in Naruto, the man turned his head just enough so that he could see Itachi in the corner of his eyes but no more, probably lacking the energy to do anymore. "Please," he whispered. His voice was weak, dry, and void of any life. He was a broken man, without an ounce of fight left in him. No will. "Kill me, Itachi-sama. I'm begging you."

Even with the small amount of lighting, the acoustics of the stone walls, and Naruto's improved senses, he could barely tell where Itachi stood in the room, moving like a ghost as he walked. He stood on the left side of the prison then walked around to the other side in a wide girth as if inspecting his prey and plotting the best way to slowly and methodically devour him.

"This man," Itachi's aristocratic voice made him sound sinister with the scene around him though he had not changed a single thing from before. "Has been causing me quite some trouble. He disobeyed me, a crime that I will not easily overlook. Stealing from me, plotting against me, should he have gone about it competently, I may have looked the other way a while longer, but I do not tolerate sloppy work."

Naruto had not seen the sword in his hands before, and he almost didn't see it then. The dim lighting glinted off the blade, revealing itself a fraction before it ran through the prisoner's chest, pinning him to the stone behind him. A weak cry escaped him, barely more than a soft mewl, lacking the strength for anything more.

"Uzumaki-kun," Itachi said in almost an endearing way, yet still somehow lacking real emotion. "I want you to kill him."

His blood ran cold at the suggestion. Images of the dead body in the alley assailed his thoughts, the blood that pooled around the shattered skull, and the lifeless look in that man's eyes. "Y-you want me t-t-t-to," his voice cracked. He couldn't form the words past the lump in his throat.

"Is it a difficult request? From what I understand, it won't be your first kill. The only thing left is to kill your hesitation. A man who isn't true to himself is a useless one."

The prisoner's eyes lingered on him. He could feel his gaze like a laser, piercing him. And then there was Itachi's gaze, heavy and expecting.

"N-no. I-I-I won't do it." Naruto averted his eyes to the floor. "I can't."

Itachi raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Naruto nodded, bracing himself for the consequence of his answer. Surely Itachi wouldn't take no for an answer. Naruto didn't think anyone said no to him. Even Kisame seemed reluctant to disobey as he always followed his command without question, though he did complain about it.

"Alright. Then he will live," Itachi said simply.

No, it couldn't have been that easy. While Naruto tried to digest his shock at how accepting Itachi was about his decision, the man was horrified; life snapped into him. Each passing second, he became more animated as he begged. "No! Please Itachi-sama. Kill me. Let me die."

"You will live until Uzumaki-kun comes and kills you himself. Until that time, Kisame, get Uzumaki-san cleaned up and to his room to rest. He will need to be ready for his next spar tomorrow morning."

With everything going on, Naruto had forgotten that he had been in the room until he was addressed. Once again, he was picked up and thrown over the shoulder like luggage and carried out of the room.

The next hour had to of been one of the most humiliating hours in his life. Kisame had stripped him down to nothing, dumping him into a tub full of warm water. He bathed him and addressed his wounds. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, Kisame couldn't stop laughing and making penis jokes about him. He was never really concerned about it before. Growing up with Kiba and regularly going to the bathhouse, he had never thought he was small. Damn, now he was self-conscious about his size.

Bandaged and put into bed, he closed his eyes ready to doze off in his nice, plush, four-poster bed when a shriek had him sitting up quickly, reopening his wounds with fiery protest. What was that?

A few long seconds later another scream filled the house. The anguish that was carried with it resonated with Naruto's being as if it was dumping the world's torment onto his shoulders.

Of course, Naruto recognized who the voice belonged to. The man in the subbasement.

Hiding his head underneath his pillow in a futile attempt to drown it out, the cry of pain assaulted Naruto's ears still.

"It's okay, they're just trying to pressure you," he whispered, shaken by the revelation of what Itachi intended to do. He wouldn't give in. He couldn't.

The night plowed on, the screams continuing long into the night, penetrating his dreams until Naruto was the one committing the torture.

Naruto went to breakfast, tired and mentally drained. His rest was interrupted by the nightmares and screams of the prisoner. He could barely think clearly when he entered the kitchen.

His body had healed, much to his surprise, but that only meant that more pain was to come. The sight of Itachi cooking breakfast was no longer a shock, nor was it amusing. That man had no humanity left in him.

Itachi left the moment he had finished cooking, placing the food ─this time a traditional Japanese breakfast─ in front of Naruto. Unlike the day before, Naruto didn't eat with vigor, staring at the meal, knowing that it would not stay down.

"You should eat, Uzumaki-kun. You will need your strength."

He said that every morning for the next week. Itachi acted kind towards him, treated him like a guest, never forcing him to do anything while Kisame abused him to an inch of his life until he was too scared and broken to move. His day would end only to listen to that man scream in agony and plead for his death. Then he would get up and the cycle would repeat. He was reaching his breaking point. He was beginning to look forward to the kindness Itachi showed him, wanting to grab onto the hand that fed him, that ordered Kisame to stop hurting him. He knew that Itachi was the one who had ordered the training and was the one performing the torture, but he had never seen Itachi do it himself, and at the end of the day, he was too strained to think clearly.

Was this Itachi's plan? To make him go crazy? He had already been here a week, but there were no signs of rescue. Chances to escape seemed unlikely at this rate. What could he do to keep himself from falling further into Itachi's clutches?

One night, unable to sleep, during the nightly screams, a realization hit Naruto. There was only one way. He had to give Itachi what he wanted. It was the only way to save his own sanity.

Before the training started, Naruto located Itachi in the subbasement on his own. The vampire was sitting in a Parisian club chair, a side table beside him with a newspaper and prepared tea. As usual, he did not have a hair out of place. He did not even look surprised that Naruto had come to him. Why would he be when this was ultimately what the man wanted.

Naruto entered with a steely expression, not even twitching at the sight of the prisoner. The man was cuffed to the wall, splayed like an insect. His body displayed various marks of inflicted torture that Naruto could not even begin to describe that had not been there before. A silver blade was embedded in his neck, just below that Adam's apple, and there as a pail below him collecting blood. There was hardly any blood left to drain. The blood had nearly stopped flowing from any of the wounds despite how fresh they looked. He had been bled dry.

"So this is how you kept him quiet during the day," Naruto said matter of factly. He took two loud steps into the otherwise silent room. "I guess he is a vampire. He'd be dead by now if he wasn't."

"So he would be," Itachi agreed. He watched Naruto walk over to the prisoner.

The prisoner's eyes met with Naruto's, and he smiled at the young man sincerely with cracked and bloody lips, nodding to the sword at his feet.

Naruto picked up the sword, staring at it for a moment, inspecting it as a stillness came over him. "I'm sorry." With a swift flick of his wrist, Naruto beheaded the man with scary ease. He was talented with a sword, Itachi noted.

The head rolled off the prisoner's shoulders to Naruto's feet. Naruto could not help but stare back at the soft expression permanently engraved onto the face looking up at him.

"The first step is always the most difficult, but it is the step in the right direction."

"No," Naruto said softly.

"No?" Question was in Itachi's voice, even a hint of surprise.

Naruto turned heated eyes onto him a scowl on his lips. With a level voice that hid the anger and hatred that his eyes reflected, he said, "I won't play your game anymore." He threw the sword onto the ground, letting it clang and slide over to Itachi. This will be the last time I ever kill someone."

He now had an unpleasant experience to put with that face. Itachi couldn't be trusted. Itachi made him do this. Itachi had brought him to this. He could not put his trust in this man. Not after being brought this far.

"Do you think you can hold such convictions here? I did not force your hand. You did this of your own free will."

Itachi was right. This was the conclusion that Naruto had come to on his own. He had taken that man's life in order to keep his own sanity, to keep himself from falling into Itachi's web. It was that pain and frustration that he would use as fuel. Fuel to stand and fight. He did not know what crimes that man may have committed, but he hadn't deserved what he had gone through. A mercy killing wasn't kindness, just an excuse.

"I know," he said. He never wanted to feel this ever again. He would become stronger so that he would never have to resort to this. So men like Itachi couldn't use him anymore. But it did not change the fact that he had more blood on his hands. All he could do was atone by making sure Itachi got what was coming to him one day. "But I swear, I will get stronger so that you can never corner me like this again. I refuse to become another one of your puppets."

"I see. I'm eager to see where such convictions get you, Uzumaki-kun." Reaching down, Itachi picked up the discarded sword, cradling it in his hands. "For now, I believe you are late with your sparring match with Kisame." His irises were a molten silver that shimmered in the light. "Run along."

The urge to comply with his demand was strong, and Naruto had no choice but to oblige; however, things were different this time. He was more alert than he had ever been before.

Until now, Naruto had been treating everything like an outsider. Everything was "them" not "him". That was a vampire thing. That was a human thing. He had never applied it to himself, going about everything as if it did not pertain to him or his situation. That was no longer the case now. He could heal life-threatening wounds in a day. He could move faster than humans ever could. Human law held very little meaning now as there were beings strong enough to get around them with their own sets of rules.

He was a part of that world now. He was one of them. Not fully, but enough that he could no longer deny it. He had the power. It was there. He just had to draw it out, and finally, stand on his own two feet.

Being friends with Naruto had never been easy.

As long as Kiba could remember, he was told to stay away from him. And for the first four years, he did. Kiba remembered the first day he was introduced to his class. He was quiet and looked odd, a perfect target for bullying.

At the time, Kiba was going through problems of his own. His parents fought often, nearly every day, yelling at one another and disregarding the fact they were well within their children's view. Growing up, watching that, it was hard to feel sympathy for another kid his age. It was easy to look away when other kids picked on Naruto. Don't get involved. Keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself.

What parents forget to realize is that children do copy them. Because the adults disliked Naruto, hated him, the children inherited their dislike. Kiba was no exception. Eventually, his mother didn't have to tell him to stay away. He did it on his own. He found himself hating Naruto though Naruto did nothing wrong. And when his parents arguing came to a head, he took his anger out on Naruto.

He was ten. His mother left after a particularly bad fight with his father. Perhaps his father still loved her because his father took it poorly, distancing himself from his children. His business trips became longer and more frequent, leaving his elder sister, the age of 16 to look after him.

Kiba was angry at his mother, his father, and everything around him, and he blamed himself as most children do when their parents go through a bad breakup. At this time, Naruto had started to act out more frequently, no longer taking the bullying quietly and lashing out, building a reputation of a delinquent as everyone had always made him out to be.

It was after his father had ditched another one of his soccer games, on the day of his birthday. He was angry, ready to take his anger out on anyone and anything. That's when he saw Naruto. Naruto was minding his own business, sitting on the edge of the soccer field, people watching from a distance.

Without warning, he walked up to Naruto, throwing insults. He couldn't remember what, but he remembered striking Naruto multiple times. Naruto didn't fight. Beating him had been remarkably easy considering his growing reputation.

In hindsight, Naruto probably let him. There was no way his small, scrawny frame could have taken no damage in a real fight. But he went home, feeling worse than before.

A few days later, he was on the receiving end. Surrounded by a group of kids he had purposefully pissed off. Outnumbered and not knowing when to keep his mouth shut, he escalated the situation until fists were flying. One of the boys held him from behind so the others could pound on him.

Then, without being asked, Naruto jumped in to help. Naruto received the worst of it, purposefully provoking them to change their target, but he didn't leave Kiba's side. Even when they threatened to kill him. They were bluffing, but they were kids. They thought it was a real possibility.

Afterward, when they had left, Naruto left without Kiba being able to even mutter a thank you. It was years later that Kiba realized the truth, that Naruto had known about his situation from his people watching days, but he couldn't ignore Naruto as he had in the past.

The next day, as Naruto consumed his lunch in a lonely corner of the classroom, he pulled up a chair to join him. The lunch was quiet and awkward, neither saying much; however, it was the beginning of their friendship.

Kiba's family situation never really improved, but his sister emerged as the anchor for his life, filling the role his parents failed to fill, and as a result, he dealt with his own grief.

As Kiba got to know Naruto, he realized just how much bias was against him. For when he befriended him, Kiba started receiving similar treatment. In the early years, he wondered if the friendship was worth it. He was willingly submitting himself to the treatment by choosing to stay Naruto's friend. The wavering loyalty had always been a regret of Kiba's because he knew Naruto had sensed his hesitation, and he knew Naruto would let him go if he chose to walk away.

Even in the present, Kiba never truly understood Naruto. He was either all smiles or a ball of anger. He had seen both, feared the later. Only Gaara seemed to handle the angered Naruto with ease. Kiba had always feared Gaara, but Naruto he felt guilty about whenever he had feelings like that, and he was sure Naruto sensed that too as Naruto rarely lost it when Kiba was around. Naruto was always looking after him, supporting him, never expecting the same treatment in return.

Now, he was seeing Naruto's face and name on TV, reported missing and a suspect in the recent terror attacks on the mainland. He could hear whispers from the students, saying how they all knew he was no good and wondering if they should transfer schools. Kiba couldn't say anything. While their class acted normally, the rest of the school was in an uproar with the gossip.

His friend was in danger yet again, and he could do nothing in return. Twice, Naruto had sacrificed his wellbeing for Kiba's sake, and when Naruto needed him, he was in no position to and lacked the power. What could a weak person like him do?

The school bell rang, and Kiba gathered his bag, leaving without completing his classroom duties in a daze.

Why was he such a bad friend? Why did he choose to pretend everything was alright when he knew Naruto was struggling? Was he still scared to be his friend? Or was he still reluctant to get involved in true trouble? The less he knew about Naruto's situation, the less he was involved. He was ashamed that those were his true feelings. Ashamed of how selfish he was deep down.

Kiba stood, waiting for the bus to arrive, staring out into the distance. Naruto had done so much for him. Why couldn't he do anything back?

In the corner of his eye, he saw Gaara preparing to get into a town car, Hyuuga at his side. Since returning to school, Hyuuga had been stuck to Gaara like glue. At first, he had thought it to be blackmail, and then he thought Gaara was a traitor for being around their former nemesis.

But there was something Gaara had that he did not. Power and money.

Swallowing his pride, he ran over to them, grabbing the door before it could be closed. "Wait!"

The driver who had been closing the door looked annoyed, but a single glance from

Gaara had him bowing and leaving to get into the driver's seat. "What?" He said rather rudely, not that it was anything new.

Snapping his arms to the side, he bowed. "I need your help. Please. Please help me find Naruto."

Gaara's stare always made Kiba sweat. Finally, he said, "Even if you find him, how do you expect to help him?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But there must be something even an idiot like me can do."

Gaara's eyes narrowed. "and how serious are you about helping him? Would you be willing to become a criminal? Would you be willing to die if need be?"

Die? Was Naruto in that much trouble? He was hesitant, his self-preservation kicking in.

Gaara saw this in him as well. "Go home, Inuzuka." Gaara reached out to close the car door, but Kiba stopped him.

"Yes. I'll do anything you ask. Just let me help."

Gaara's lips thinned. Hyuuga, who was seated beside Gaara, leaned over and whispered something into his ear. Kiba strained to listen but may as well have had headphones on. "You'll put your life on the line for him?" He asked one more time.

Kiba wouldn't allow himself to falter again. He answered with a resolute, "Yes."

"We'll see." He scooted over. "Get in."

Kiba did as he was told, and that was the last thing he remembered. He didn't know what happened. Just that when he woke up, he was alone in a dark cave.

Panicking, he blindly felt around, trying to get his bearing with his failed eyesight. He could feel dampness, rocks, and little else. "G-Gaara… Hyuuga…" he called out with uncertainty more than just a little scared. The last time he was stuck in the dark, he met a vampire trying to kill him.

He crawled along the cave floor, feeling his way to a wall to help him stand. "Gaara, this isn't cool, man." He heard nothing. He was truly alone, and he knew it.

Or was he?

As he slowly felt along the wall, sticking with left turns, he felt as if he was being stalked. Not quite a presence, not in the normal sense. It was the feeling you would get of being watched even though you knew you were alone, a feeling that most would chalk up to anxiety or paranoia when they were doing something they weren't supposed to do.

All his life Kiba often felt those types of presence. Something he couldn't really explain, but it was easy to ignore in small doses. For a long time, he had been convinced they were ghosts or demons, but after a while, he pushed the idea aside. Now, it felt like he was being watched everywhere, like he was on stage, blinded by the spotlight, while everyone watched and laughed. It made him paranoid to a maddening degree.

Breathing faster, he moved his feet increasing his pace only to find dead end after dead end. How did he get out of here? The feeling of scrutiny was slowly intensifying as if closing in on him, and more than once he swore he felt something brush up against him.

"I-if there are any sp-spirits here, I'm sorry for tresspassin'. I don't have any offerings, but if you could just show me out…" he was rambling in his shaken state. It didn't help when he heard a feminine giggle in the darkness.

"Are you lost, young man," it asked.

Scared and out of options, he answered nervously. "Can you help me out of here?"

The voice laughed again, seemingly amused but had a sinister edge.

A lantern appeared, an old oil-based one, temporarily blinding Kiba as his eyes adjusted to the light. Upon the sight of the figure who held the lantern, he wished he hadn't looked or even called out. The woman who held the lantern was old and withering, her tattered kimono barely staying on her form as a sagging breast was exposed to him. Her limbs were elongated and barely thicker than sticks. Her long, grey hair barely concealed her crazed eyes.

"Let me help you there, young man," she said, a sickle in her other hand. He saw her lick her dry cracked lips.

Screaming, Kiba fell back, turning to run only for something to trip him. Looking down, he saw the fading image of a black hand coming out of the ground dissipating.

The woman laughed, still dragging the sickle behind her. "Where do you think you're going, young man? Don't you want help?"

Terrified, Kiba scrambled to his feet again, running into the darkness, away from the light, unable to see where he was going. The once distant presence was now all around him, grabbing at him, now the unmistakable feeling of hands.

"Don't run, young man!" The old hag called out. "Do you think I'm the scariest yokai here!"

He could no longer see the light of her lantern, but she sounded so close, coming from every direction. Stopping, he tried to find any hint of where she may be or how to escape. The second he stopped though, something else touched him, paralyzing his body on the spot. Bony, cold fingers, caressed his neck. "Such a beautiful neck," this time it was a deep masculine voice, and it whispered into his ear. "Should I make it mine?"

Kiba tried to move, but his body would not respond to him. It felt as if a rope had tied around his body, keeping him in place. He lost control of his bladder, feeling something sharp graze his neck.

He didn't want to die. Not like this. He hadn't accomplished anything. He didn't want to die without a good reason, a purpose. Someone, save me! he called out in his terrified mind.

Is that all your determination amounts to? Wishing to be saved? A voice asked with mild amusement. I expected more from the last heir of the Inuzuka clan.

Time was stopped, and though he still could not move, Kiba felt he was in a different world, a different dimension, still dark but not because of lack of light.

Who are you? He asked. The voice, gruff and animalistic was warm and familiar as if it had always been by his side.

Depends on you, boy. Your power called to me over a year ago, and I have been waiting to make a contract. However, watching you, I am not sure I want to.

A year ago? Power? What was he talking about? Why? What do I have to do?

Golden brown eyes of a wolf appeared before him. I have no use for someone who fears death, and I have no use of children who rely on others to save them. A power squandered is having no power at all, the voice growled. I rather consume your soul here and now.

Reality started again. The sharp object, now knowing it to be a wire, wrapping around his neck.

Wasn't it natural to fear death? To fear being hurt? To fear pain? He was only human. Self-preservation was natural. To save oneself was natural.

Then why did Naruto put himself in harm's way? Why did he let Kiba beat him? Why did he save him when he could have walked away from Kiba surrounded by the bullies? Why did Naruto sacrifice himself to Uchiha so he could escape? Surely, he had been scared too? No one forced him to get involved.

The same reason why Kiba had asked Gaara to let him help. He was a friend, and he couldn't walk away knowing he was needed. Fearing death was natural but having a reason to overcome it and press onward gave would be coward's strength.

He needed to help Naruto. He needed to repay him.

Power flooded his body and he gathered he resolve putting it all into his left arm, breaking free of the restraints holding it down, to move in the path of the wire, biting into his flesh and stopping at the bone.

"So what if I fear death!" Kiba yelled out into the darkness. "As long as I have power, you should obey me right! If you want a contract, I'll give it to you. Eat my soul, I don't care! Just give me more power dammit!"

Then officially give me my name and let the contract be sealed, the voice whispered.

The wire was digging into his bone and pain was radiating into his arm. He would not die here. He refused to. "AKAMARU!" he yelled.

Light and several screams from the spirits inhabiting it filled the cave. The pressure of the wire slackened until the wire fell to the ground, and Kiba covered his eyes to protect them.

The light faded enough, leaving darkness once again, but this time, he was truly alone besides the lone figure he could clearly see. Akamaru walked up to him, his tail swishing behind him. The contract is completed. The large dog, which Kiba now knew was a wolf, bowed to him. Master.

Putting pressure on his wound, Kiba's legs finally gave out, and he allowed himself to sit on the cave floor, watching the being in front of him. "So how does this work? You eat me now or something?"

The wolf narrowed its eyes at his words as if it was the most preposterous thing it had ever heard. As I have with your ancestors before you, I will be your familiar and in exchange, I will consume your spiritual power rather than your soul. The more spiritual power you allow me to have, the stronger I become. Should the contract ever break or your spiritual power leaves you, I will consume you.

"Sounds like something a yokai would say," Kiba laughed half-heartedly.

I once was a lesser god. You should show me respect. Akamaru replied with annoyance.

"Doesn't change the fact you like a good scratch behind the ears," Kiba said, feeling light-headed. "Can you get us out of here?"

If my master so desires.

It was laughable at how easy it was to leave with Akamaru guiding him. Even so, he was feeling drained and weak when he stepped out of the cave, nearly collapsing onto Akamaru for support.

Gaara was waiting for him with a man by his side who looked remarkably like Hyuuga, but older.

"So he has awakened," the man said, seemingly displeased. "I will inform the others."

"And their land," Gaara added, gaining a small glare from the man.

"It will be returned to them. He will need training grounds before he gets himself killed."

Out of his yukata sleeve, he pulled out a talisman. It glowed a soft gold color before flying over to Kiba and sticking to his forehead. He began to lose consciousness.

"He's going to die if he keeps exerting his chakra like that."

"That's why I called you here," Gaara said. Kiba could hear Gaara's footsteps getting farther away.

The Niijma adult clone came towards him, Kiba's vision blacking out. The last thing he heard was, "Welcome back, Head of the Inuzuka Clan."

"Uchiha-sama, you should rest. You have been training nonstop," Tobi fidgeted with the silver tray that had a towel and a large bag of blood on it. His antsy behavior was distracting to say the least. He had been standing in the corner for the past hour, wondering if he should say something.

Sasuke sat in the center of the room, eyes closed and wearing only a pair of sweatpants covered in sweat. It took a lot to make an immortal sweat. Extreme physical duress was one of two ways, and Sasuke had long gone past his limit.

"I need to gain better control of the Kamikaze if I want a chance to defeat my brother," he said, his eyes slowly opening to reveal molten silver irises.

"That may be well and good, Uchiha-sama; however, should you overexert yourself, the power may cause irreparable damage to your body. What good is it to continue training if you will hamper your success in the long run?"

Tobi had a point. He knew that, but it was difficult to accept. There was nothing he could do at this time, and he wanted to do something. If he didn't, he just wallowed in the fact that his brother was nearby with Uzumaki in his possession.

"Leave the tray. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Uchiha-sama." Tobi bowed, before placing the tray down on his nightstand and excusing himself.

Standing, he had almost lost his balance. Tobi had been right. He had gone far too long. He hadn't fully recovered from his fight, having elected to train rather than allow himself to heal. But he had nowhere else to channel his emotions. His annoyance of being under the hunters' watch. The frustration of his brother being so close but unable to go after him. The grief he felt over the council's demise.

Training allowed him to focus on something other than his brewing emotions and the revelation Gaara left him with the other day.

Now, he did not have the luxury. His body may have been tired, collapsing on his bed with fatigue, but his mind was still buzzing with activity. It was too quiet with Uzumaki gone. Uzumaki wasn't exactly loud, but he had made his presence in the household known. His conversations with Tobi in the mornings, his complaints in the evenings, their banter at night. It was surprisingly easy to forget with Uzumaki around, distracting him from his own nightmares.

Love was a useless emotion. It required trust and vulnerability, something he had long since given up. Therefore, he couldn't be in love with Uzumaki. He was a distraction at best. A much-needed break after focusing all his efforts towards one goal for so many years. The attraction he felt at random intervals when his guard was down was pent up sexual frustration. 40 years of abstinence would do that to anyone. Sex had become boring after the first 100 years of his life. One night stands were easy enough to get. Especially when no one was willing to openly declare they were gay back then. A few sweet nothings and an attractive body, and Sasuke could make anyone give in for a night. It got old quickly and faces and names blurred together.

Rolling onto his back, he slipped a hand down the hem of his pants. Sex was a physical need, one that he had ignored for a long time. Wouldn't it become expected if his interest would pop up when touching a young, attractive man after being abstinent for so long? He just needed to work it out of his system.

Sasuke closed his eyes as he moved his hand. This was another chore, he told himself. He could think of anyone and the result would be the same. The image in his head was vague. A generic faceless guy that could be anyone. Normally, this would be enough. A generic man posing on his bed who Sasuke wouldn't be able to recall once he finished his business.

But as he continued, he began to imagine his hands running through soft, blond hair, his nose nuzzled against sun-kissed skin as he inhaled an intoxicating scent that could only belong to one person. "Uchiha," he would groan, squirming under Sasuke's attention. A soft blush would dust his cheeks as it always did when he was embarrassed. The look of prey. So innocent despite acting so tough, Sasuke wanted to ruin that. He would be his, make it so Uzumaki could not live without his touch, without his bite.

"Dammit, Uchiha," he would say, "not so damn rough." But he knew Uzumaki. He would want it rough. Uzumaki would grasp the sheets, tearing them as he moaned in pleasure, taking all of Sasuke into his body like he was made for him.

Their hips would rock together erratically. Uzumaki would call his name, growing closer and closer to climax. His body would tighten around him as he neared, "Uchiha!"

"Uchiha-sama?" Tobi's voice broke him out of his fantasy.

With haste, he removed his hand from his pants. "What do you want?" he asked irritated.

"Are you alright? I heard groaning. Are you still in pain?"

"I'm fine. Go away," he replied removing his now soiled sweatpants into a laundry basket.

"As you wish." Tobi moved away from the door, his footsteps quietly clicking down the hall.

His thoughts just now were more concerning to him than Tobi catching him masturbating. He had been possessive. Uzumaki was his? Make it so he couldn't live without him? It was so corny and cliché, the thought made him almost vomit. Immortals were territorial sure, but Uzumaki wasn't his chosen mate. He was a kid he picked up on a whim. A whim that had been very out of character for him.

He couldn't deny he wasn't physically attracted to him, but harboring feelings was dangerous territory. He had many enemies. Having a fledgling was one thing, having a lover was another. This was assuming Uzumaki escaped his brother's clutches unharmed which was unlikely. Anger and hatred for his brother flared at the thought.

What was happening to him? Why did he care?

Cleaning himself and changing his clothes, he attempted to sleep, but the thought kept nagging at him persistently. This may have been a bigger problem than he realized, and if he saw Gaara again, he'd kill him for ever bringing it to his attention.