"I'm heading out," I drawled, setting my bag down as I crouched in the entryway. Just ignore the sound of all of my joints popping like I'm a thousand-year-old man, please and thank you. My back just hasn't been the same since I was... like six, to be honest. Should I be concerned?

I was just crouched there, tying my shoes and minding my business when I felt the hair at the back of my neck stand up. "Sasuke," said Itachi, my psychopath of an older brother, and the voice right over my shoulder startled the shit out of me.

I jumped, whipping around. "What?" I hissed, rubbing my arms to try and get rid of the heebie-jeebie feeling. I knew my reaction only spurred on his creepy tendencies, but I couldn't help it. Once, in fifth grade, I had a dream about him murdering my entire family (apparently, I've got a fuck ton of cousins) and I've never been the same around him since.

"Remember what we talked about," Itachi continued on—expressionless, as per usual. He seemed unperturbed by his creepiness, if not a little amused by my behavior. What a psycho. "Good grades aren't enough. You-"

"Can't get in fights anymore, got it," I interrupted with a roll of my eyes, waving a hand flippantly.

Itachi didn't seem appeased by this. "This is a good neighborhood, little brother, and a good school. You would be working against the odds to still get in trouble, but I wouldn't put it past you. You're exceedingly talented in both academics and troublemaking." Itachi's words could almost be considered affectionate if I didn't find them so incredibly annoying.

But, I didn't argue, because I knew how much hassle I caused Itachi. This was a better neighborhood than our last one, meaning it was more expensive. Better tuition meant a higher price tag. I knew that Itachi could barely afford this, even with the school giving me a jaw-dropping discount so long as I kept my GPA up.

I already had plans to get a job after school so I could help out, but still. Minimum wage was not going to cover this place.

"I'll be nice," I promised, trying my hardest not to sound too glib. This whole conversation felt... strangely soap-opera-esque.

"I know," Itachi said, and he reached forward to ruffle my hair. "I know," he repeated, voice softer. "Things are better here. Things are better now."

I hate when he gets all sappy like this, because that makes it hard for me to be my usual, assholish self. Since I couldn't snap at Itachi without feeling guilty about ruining the uncharacteristic (though admittedly sweet) mushiness, I resorted to raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"I'll be nice," I repeated.

Itachi allowed a rare, small smile to grace his features. "Not too nice, I hope. Your fangirls were a problem even at the previous school, despite the yakuza rumors and perpetual fighting about you. Without the rumors and violence, I fear there will be nothing to stop them. Perhaps you'll be in danger."

I swatted Itachi's hand away. "I can handle women," I assured with a scoff, then felt immediately uncomfortable—'I can handle women'? Who fucking said that? Like; 'Not to suck my own dick too hard, but I know how to handle the ladies.' Fucking lame. "I might not even be 'the type' at this school," I continued quickly, trying to redeem myself from the previous, overly-cocky line. "Maybe they're into blondes at Konoha Academy," I suggested. Blond was probably the one color I couldn't pull off.

Probably. Hm. Leave a vote in the comments; should I go blond?

"Blondes?" Itachi smirked. "I suppose everyone is allowed at least a little hope," he replied dubiously.

"Go away, you're being annoying," I sighed. I hoisted my backpack over one shoulder and that was that. I head out the door.

"Have fun at school, Sasuke," Itachi called after me, but I ignored him.

My walk to school was nice. The October air was chilly enough to make my nose cold, but not enough to cut through my sweatshirt (AKA, optimal fall weather). The leaves on the trees were beginning to turn orange, and already nice and crunchy beneath my sneakers. It smelled like wet leaves, yes, but also like winter, and I was so incredibly excited. I'm one of the few people who love winter, and I could smell it in the air, prickling the inside of my nostrils pleasantly.

Transferring into school a few months late sucked, but at least I was that much closer to winter break. And, winter in general.

I like winter, if you couldn't tell.

My fall trek was interrupted by a shadowy figure lurking by the school entrance. There were tons of kids still mulling about since classes hadn't started yet, but this particular figure caught my notice immediately. I didn't outwardly react, just in case it was nothing, but damn if my spidey-senses weren't tingling.

Just like I suspected, the second I got close enough to be fully in-view of this guy, a hand reached out and fucking grabbed me. Grabbed me. Me. Who's out here in 2020 grabbing people to get their attention? Soon-to-be carcasses, that's who.

Huh. I've got a god complex. When did that happen?

"Hello?" I asked, unsure how to handle this situation without resorting to physical violence. How did the normal folk do it? I put my hand over his, clasping his hand in my own and giving it a friendly squeeze, and he immediately retracted it from my arm and gave me a look. What, so I made it weird? Asshole.

"You're the Uchiha, right?"

I wondered for a panicked second if my mom, somehow, behind my back, was still sewing our surname onto the sleeves of my jackets. I mean, she stopped that toddler shit when I was 15 already, not to mention that was before I was disowned and kicked from the house. If anything, she'd probably be sewing 'fag' onto my jackets—except I know my mom would never do that, even if she disagreed with my 'lifestyle'.

"Am I right?"

"Uh," I said, trying to blink away the traumatic memories (of my mom sewing my name into my clothing even during high school, because that shit was embarrassing). "What?"

"I heard you were in a gang with Suigetsu the Shark and Karin the Assassin back at Sound High School. You're the Prince, right? Sasuke Uchiha."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

Unfortunately, I was all too aware of my totally ass codename. This guy had been close; not the Prince, but 'The King' was my name. I know. Who heard that and cowered? Not that I was looking for fear anymore since my gang days were behind me... But, hypothetically speaking: if you were to vote on a better code name for me—something mysterious, something savage—what would you guys come up wi-

"Hold up, princess," the guy said, reaching for my arm again.

"Hey!" I yelled, getting louder, yanking my arm out of his reach. "When did you last wash your hands?"

"What?" the guy hollered, suddenly lunging in my direction.

Maybe he was just trying to intimidate me—I have no proof he would actually attack me in any way—but before I really had time to register the situation, I darted away from him. I don't know what possessed me to think that running was a good idea, but next thing I knew, I was sprinting across campus and laughing a little hysterically because I was sooooo getting suspended after this. I didn't do anything wrong, and we weren't really disturbing anyone (highschoolers are surprisingly adept at dodging oncoming sprinters), but I could feel it in my bones that 'that poor fuck we're allowing to attend our prestigious establishment out of the goodness of our hearts? Yeah, he was seen disturbing the public this morning and is therefore soooooo suspended, LOL'.

I was momentarily retarded by a broad chest in my fucking way, and when I looked up, it was to see bright blue eyes, dark skin, and blond hair. Mmy soap-opera-senses were ringing off the charts. Was this guy hot? Yes. Was he in my fucking way? Yesyesyes!

When I went to the left, so did he (trying to evade me, and failing), and when I went to the right, he did too with a sheepish laugh. In a fit of desperate terror when I heard harsh panting approaching me from behind at a rapid pace, I grabbed the broad-chested probably-male and swiveled. It was like a dance move; I barely remember how it happened or how I did it so smoothly, but I basically grabbed this guy's biceps, sort of pinning his arms to his sides, and spun him, but I used the momentum to propel myself away from him, and then I was leaping because I felt hot breath at my neck.

I swear to God, I was running faster than light itself. I wasn't really scared of the thug chasing me (I could take him), and I wasn't really scared of getting in trouble (I'm probably already doomed, on that front), but something about being chased down really awakened the fight-or-flight instincts within me. In that moment, I was little more than prey; little more than a hare sprinting away from a... coyote...? I don't know where that metaphor was going, but you get it: I wasn't scared, but running and almost being caught was scary enough that my adrenalin was convincing me I should be scared.

Not that I needed to be, apparently. I heard an oof!, and then cheering, and suddenly I knew what had happened. The villain had been caught.

Without turning around, I knew the coyote was out of the race, so instead, I just kept facing forward. I propped my hands on my legs and squeezed my kneecaps as I wheezed for a bit. Sweat dripped off my forehead and onto the ground between my sneakers. Fuck, I was out of shape. I could kick ass in a fight, no biggie, but cardio? Fuck that shit. My burning lungs and legs were in agreement on that one.

"What's the issue?" I heard a voice ask, because the onlookers (who deemed our little scuffle more important than getting to class on time) went quiet with apprehension.

"Nonya," said the coyote, huffing and puffing.

"Cute," said my hero, and when I finally turned around, I realized it was blond-and-blue-eyes, the guy who'd gotten in my way and slowed me down. Maybe saving me was his way of making things even, since he was the only reason I was anywhere close to getting caught. There's no way that coyote-jackass was faster than me. (What's that? You're calling back to the snap-crackle-pop of my brittle joints this morning when I went to bend down? Well, don't. I'm an expert sprinter. My credentials? Don't worry about it.)

"Are you gonna let go of my arm, Naruto?" grumbled the fiend.

"Are you gonna stop running around like you're racing? Track meets after school ends. You two are a hazard," the blond said. Naruto.

"School hasn't even started yet. The discipline committee isn't in effect until-"

And then, as if for theatrical effect, the school bell went off, signifying the start of first period.

"Do I need to take you to the office, Konohamaru?" Naruto asked, grinning charmingly at the thug.

"No," Konohamaru pouted. He sent me a glare after saying that, of course, as some sort of silent 'I'll get you back for this later', but I was too busy Snapchatting the whole thing to send to Itachi, so he probably only saw my phone case. (It's black with red clouds, for anyone who's curious. I don't remember the site I ordered it from. , or something. I'll link it down below if I find it.)

In the snap video, I zoomed in on Naruto, who was chastising a fuming Konohamaru. Hey, you could even kind of see Konohamaru's vindictive glare in the video! Priceless. I added some coyote stickers (an inside joke between you guys and myself) and the caption; "LOOK at this shit. Trouble comes to ME, I swear!" and sent it to Itachi. When I looked up from my phone, I met a sparkly grin.

"Naruto," he said, and stuck out a hand.

"Sasuke," I replied, and shook it. The second our palms touched, I realized mine was probably sweaty and had an inner panic attack. The second we let go, I put my hands in the kangaroo pocket of my sweatshirt and wiped them against the fabric in there. You know, on the off chance he wanted to... hold my hand again?

God, how lame can I get?

"Should I keep an eye on Konohamaru for you?" he offered, probably trying to be friendly, but it came off in my cornered-animal-prey-brain as condescending.

"I can take care of myself," I said curtly, and had flash-backs to every annoying Teen Angst™ protagonist in any show ever, so I corrected myself and said, "I mean—I think I have it covered. Thanks for offering, but hopefully this... shouldn't happen again."

"Why was Konohamaru chasing you?" Naruto asked, and I was tempted to consider him nosy, but I guess discipline-committee members might want to know that kind of information. The question was: did he have a right to that information? Would I get in trouble for hiding it from him?

"I think he thought I was someone else," I said, which was partially true. "Apparently, I resemble a thug, or something."

Naruto tilted his head and squinted at me. "Huh. I don't see it. Aren't thugs usually... you know."

I waited for him to expand on that vague comment, but he didn't. Then, I remembered my current get up: smart glasses, styled hair, cuff-link sleeves. I looked like a nerd good student, and nothing like my usual self.

"You don't look like a thug," Naruto said after an awkward pause, but I could tell he was trying to be reassuring.

"Maybe I'm an undercover thug," I suggested for lack of a better response. What was I supposed to say to that? I didn't look like a thug now, because I had my shirt on. If this guy saw my tattoos, or my piercings...

Naruto laughed. "Sure, Sasuke. Whatever you say." Then, he clapped me on the shoulder. "Listen, let me know if he bothers you again, okay? I know you think you've got it covered, but we should really let the school handle it. You don't want to get in trouble when someone else started it. Even if it's in self defence, any sort of violence won't be tolerated."

I felt the skin on my neck prickle at the thought. I came that close to suspension. On my first day.

Then, I realized Naruto was like a built-in bodyguard. I could be protected instead of having to fight! And he was offering.

I mean, I knew it would be weird to ask him to protect me for the rest of the year until I graduated, but maybe I could manipulate him into befriending me, so he would protect me naturally? His mere presence, as a discipline committee member, would stop any attacks in their tracks. Attacking me or trying to claim my title as the new king of Sound High (and hence the strongest bastard around, thankyouverymuch) wasn't worth getting suspended—not in a semi-prestigious school like this.

"He'll probably settle down after a few days," I said, shrugging somewhat hopelessly. I curved my shoulders a bit, tucking my arms closer to my sides—trying to make myself appear as small and helpless as possible without all-out batting my eyelashes at the guy. "Once he gets a good look at my face and realizes I'm not who he thinks I am, he'll probably leave me alone... hopefully." Please take the bait, please take the bait...

"I know you said you've got it, but listen. I'll keep an eye out for him, alright? Just in case." Naruto squeezed my shoulder.

I looked at him in surprise, like I couldn't believe he offered his help (despite it being his job). "Honestly... I'd appreciate that. Thanks, man."

"No problemo!" Naruto cheered, shooting me finger guns as he walked backwards towards the school, still facing me. "I'll walk you to class? I'll be your excuse for being late on your first day."

"If you put those things away," I groused, but followed. Apparently he heard me, and raised a finger-gun questioningly. I scowled at him in response, like 'Duh!'. "What are you, five? I can't be seen with you."

Naruto laughed. He did, however, put his hands away, tucking them behind his head as he walked with me.

Naruto seemed alright.