So this is a random thing I just come up with.
I don't particularly like Sasuke after he became such a douche (Sorry Sasuke fans)
But I wanted to do this anyway.
Hopefully it will get a positive response haha.
Anyways, enjoy and as always:
Leave your rates, reviews, complaints and pathetic excuses after the beep!


The first one went in a crash.
The second in a whisper.
The third with a bang.

It had been hard, he would admit. But times such as these sometimes had to be experienced in order to mature and grow. You never really become an adult until you have experienced pain.
Through the near intolerable darkness in his mind, he had climbed that steep hill and closed the cut before it had gotten deeper... sewed it shut before it could heal.
He had been led astray in his mind for so long that he had lost hope. There had been nothing left...
He became numb.
Though he tried to deny it with every fibre of his being, every now and then he could hear a voice inside him begin to cry.
Sometimes the bad ending sparks a new beginning.


"Mum are we there yet?"
"No honey," the silky voice of the child's mother floated over the car seat to him, "But just 30 more minutes and you can see Itachi and your daddy again."
The 5 year old boy in the back seat grinned happily at the thought of seeing his brother and father again. After 2 weeks, half an hour seemed almost too long to wait.
Sighing happily the raven haired boy rested his head back on the seat, his arms wrapped around the bundle of quilts and pillows forced onto his lap to make room for the rest of the knick knacks and random housey things he and his mother were transporting from their old house to their new one.
His head jerked up suddenly when a flash of blue caught his eye.

"Woah! I didn't know we were going to be living near a lake!"

In the front seat his mother, Mikoto smiled in content. Life couldn't get any better.
And in the foreseeable future, it certainly couldn't get any worse.

The problem with her train of thought is that the future isn't foreseeable.

Many would argue that life is beautiful only because it doesn't last.
It is fleeting and when it ends there is nothing but a memory of what it used to be.
Something so fragile can be erased in a heartbeat.
Philosophers argue that the gods envy our mortality for this one reason.

Other may say it is beautiful because it is like a masterpiece that lasts for so long.
It ages over the years but in turn matures and becomes wise.
Some say old age, like the sculptures of centuries past, are only regarded as beautiful because of their history, something collected over time. They have survived the horrors of the world to remain untouched.

However, no matter how beautiful, the memory fades and decays with the generations until it is no longer remembered, but simply a piece of history ingrained in the DNA of the predecessors of death.

Perhaps both opinions are true. Perhaps both are false.
The child in the backseat had neither the life experience nor the foresight to decide had he been asked.
All he could discern from what followed was a sudden screech of tires, a thunderous noise and the giant metal bulk he was in coming to an abrupt halt.

"Ouch... Mum what was that?"

The pillows and quilt felt suffocating against him. But they had acted as makeshift airbags so despite his discomfort, he didn't complain.
Huffing in slight annoyance when his mother didn't answer him, the small boy tried to push himself off the chair to get a glimpse over the quilts.

A slight panic ignited in his chest when he noticed the car filling with smoke.

Sitting back down, he tried to move the blankets aside to undo his seatbelt and make access to his mother easier.
The seatbelt however had other plans and the raven haired child growled in irritation and growing panic as his constant tugging on the strap of leather proved futile.
A thump at his window startled him and his dark eyes glanced up in surprise at the panic struck blonde woman standing out the front of his door.

She was clearly trying to open it. Although what she wanted the child couldn't discern.

Perhaps she was one of those women who climbed into cars at traffic lights and stole whatever was in the backseat?
No... Those people were evil. And as the joys of daytime cartoons had taught him, the bad guys never looked panic stricken and desperate.

The door to the car wasn't locked; it just appeared to be jammed. dark eyes glanced up and down the frame and observed with confusion that it had a large dent in it. The woman turned her head and yelled something unintelligible through the cracked glass and growing rumbling noise.

When the woman moved from his sight, she was replaced with a tree.

Furrowing his eyes in confusion the boy watched a dark haired man through the window lift a crow bar and motion for him to cover himself in the sheets.

The young raven haired boy obliged and no sooner had he done so than he heard a crack and shattering.
The previously indecipherable voices now became clear as day and he felt the seat belt around him slacken and his slim frame lifted from the car.
Struggling with the material he eventually managed to untangle his head from the shrapnel covered sheets.

Looking up, his piercing black eyes furrowed in confusion at the strange man carrying him away from the car he should be in. He should be on his way to his new house to see his father and his brother, Itachi; not being carried away by a random stranger.
Said man lowered him down against a tree stump and sat in front of the boy.

"Ok, I want you to just look at me and tell me your name, your phone number if you know it and where you live."

The man seemed in a hurry and the child indulged the man his questions.
Several times he tried to glance over his shoulder only to have the man turn his chin back towards him.
Tilting his head in curiosity the boys eyebrows creased as the sound of sirens alerted him to flashing lights.
An ambulance raced past him and he turned his head to watch it, eyes expanding in frozen horror as he watched his mothers bloodied body pulled from the smouldering wreckage. The image was forever ingrained into his irises


"Come on little brother, if we stay here any longer he is going to catch up to us."

A raven haired youth hoisted the 11 year old into the front seat of the car and took the time only to ensure his brothers safety before jumping in himself and flooring the accelerator.
The car took off with the screech of tires and the smell of burning rubber.
The elder turned once, elbow on the headrest and hand on the opposing seat to glance fretfully out the back window in favour of using the rear view mirror.
The red Corvette that had been stalking them all day sped up and began to tail them.
Two pairs of black eyes in the front of the blue car met briefly before turning back to the road.
Dodging in and out of the traffic, the raven haired man negotiated the inner city streets with the skill of a driver twice his age.
The younger of the two briefly looked to the side mirror; his dark eyes seemingly the only thing he could move.
His left arm was grasping the inner handle of the door while his right was gripping his seatbelt, his body stiffening with every sharp turn and red light ran.
The lights of the city flashed by faster and faster in the growing darkness of dusk, the kaleidoscope of colors was making the younger boy dizzy.
His brother shared his dark eyes and black hair, though the 19 year old had visible lines under his eyes from stress and lack of sleep.
He desperately wished for time to recuperate but he never had the chance.
They were always being followed.

A thud jolted the car as the Corvette tailing them attempted to run them off the road.
The dark eyed driver swore as jerked the steering wheel back and forth in an attempt to shake off the man tailing them.
The young passenger closed his eyes fearfully and tried to swallow his terror.
Ever since their mother died in the car accident, the youngest raven haired brother had a phobia of moving vehicles.
He also had a fear of the man in the red car behind them.
Because that man hated him,
That man blamed him for his mothers death,
That man wanted him dead,
That man was his father, Fugato.

The youngest of the boys glanced towards the drivers seat where his black haired brother was utilising whatever knowledge he had of street driving to the maximum.
Despite his fear, he trusted his brother.
After all, he had kept them safe for six years.
Six years of fleeing, using the money they inherited to stay somewhere for a maximum of 2 weeks before being uprooted and finding another respite in which to hide.
The dark streets of the inner suburbs had held them for 4 weeks.
Lights, squealing tires of doomed street cars and the painful calls of those fated to die alone masked the trail of the boys for longer than they had dared to hope.
It was never enough to stop the madman following in their footsteps, always a half step behind.
The car made another painful jolt and the screech of metal was heard as the Corvette scraped alongside them.
Finally succumbing to his terror the 11 year old painfully whispered,

"Itachi... Are we gonna be ok?"

The elder boy glanced briefly at his brother, worry creasing his eyebrows and an unreadable look in his eyes, before concentrating on the steering wheel and road again.
The blue car wouldn't drive itself after all.
A few seconds later when they hit a patch of free road he managed to flash his brother a half hearted smile and reply reassuringly,

"Sure we are, my foolish little brother."

But as a bullet blasted off one of the side mirrors, Itachi ducked and realised his comforting words weren't convincing enough to be believed.


PP

The jetty was a long one.
It was rarely inhabited by fishermen anymore because of its decrepit state, although Itachi heard rumours of teenagers coming out every now and then to try their luck.
It was the place their mother used to take them before a boat crashed into it, effectively crippling the structure.
The two boys walked in nostalgic silence along the pier, reliving their favourite memories and occasionally jumping over a rotten plank of wood or hole.
It went out a long way and it took the boys a good ten minutes to get to the other end.
They watched as the crystal clear shallow waters became green, light blue and then a dark navy.
Clusters of molluscs had gathered around the poles holding the structure together, their crude shells visible near the surface before disappearing into dark waters.
Neither boy could swim, but they both enjoyed the melancholy peace the ocean presented them with.
It wasn't a particularly nice day, dark clouds swirled over head and further out to sea lightning struck the ocean.
The waters around the jetty however, were calm at present.
Swinging their feet over the edge, the boys, now 13 and 21, gazed phlegmatically over the ocean.
The riptide was visible slightly to the left of them.
The lighter water and lack of waves giving it away.
They had brought with them a small bag of flowers from the garden behind the house they had been squatting in the last few weeks.
Mostly lilies and roses from the overgrown bushes and greenery.
The youngest of the two took great pleasure in throwing the flowers into the rip and watching them float away.
Some days they only floated a few feet per second.
On days like today where the water was stirring in preparation for the storm, the rip was transporting the flowers away at almost 8 metres a second.

The elder of the two looked fondly at his little brother.
He had survived well throughout the ordeal they had been facing.
Sure he had had his share of emotional scarring and was no longer as carefree as he was as a child, but small things like this gave him a small peace of mind.
He was mature for his age; and healthy.
Itachi made sure he was as healthy as he could be.
Itachi made sure that he brought the right sort of food to keep their immune systems running efficiently because getting sick enough to earn a hospital trip was out of the question.
If they stayed somewhere long enough he would find them.
He always found them.
They had probably stayed longer than they should have at this place already.
Palm Beach was beautiful, but much too flamboyant for both of their tastes anyway.
Including sleep, Itachi had unwittingly deprived himself of the very things he overindulged his brother. His skin was pale, his ribs protruded and the deep lines under his eyes now dragged from the bridge of his nose to half way down his cheek, 2cm below his eyes.
He was constantly exhausted and his mentality was deteriorating along with his body.
What they needed was somewhere safe to recuperate until they were both able to go on.
Until then it seemed they would wonder around until he was able to get a hold of someone trustworthy to take them in.
As he pondered this, he threw a few roses into the rip, watching quietly as they were dragged away.
His younger brother always insisted that because their mother loved the ocean so much, her spirit probably found her way to it when she died.
That perhaps now she resided peacefully among the coral and stoic waters.
There was a certain harmony to the idea and Itachi didn't argue.
He supposed the reason his younger brother enjoyed throwing flowers into the water so much was just his way of remembering and cherishing their mother and the memories that came with her.
Sometimes Itachi even mistook flowing strands of seaweed for the dark hair of his mother blowing in the wind.

The jetty creaked behind them and Itachi put it down to the strain of the water.
It had been standing in disrepair for many years after all.
He sighed and reached into the bag for another flower to find it empty.
He smiled quietly as he glanced at the content expression on his brothers face.
It soon turned to a slight scowl however as it started to rain.
It seemed the storm had caught up to them.
Standing up, Itachi held out his hand to his brother and pulled him up as he took it.
The content scowl on his brothers face turned to wide eyed shock in a sudden split second as he recognised the shape of his father coming from behind Itachi through the rain.
Itachi realised the danger too late and watched in horror as his little brother was pushed into the ocean, perilously close to the rip.
The boy splashed around and took large breaths of air in gasps and gulps as he flailed his arms and disappeared underwater every few seconds.
Despite Itachi constantly giving his brother everything he needed to survive...

They never had swimming lessons.

Without a second thought, Itachi dived head first into the water, gasping as the cold shocked his body and the salt stung his eyes.
Surfacing close to his brother he grasped the boys shirt and pushed him forcefully towards the poles supporting the pier and in turn, himself away.
The young boy cried out as the mussels and shellfish cut into his skin and the green algae made the pole slippery and difficult to grasp.
He turned to see his older brother desperately clawing the surface in an effort to swim towards him as the rip pulled him away.
He called out encouragements to his brother as his tears merged with the ocean.

"ITACHI DONT LEAVE ME!"

Itachi got a glimpse of his brother as he surfaced again.
It seemed he was able to get a hold of the pier after all.
Well that was something at least...
As the rushing water dragged him further away he sunk under the surface again, no longer trying to swim back to his brother so much as trying to stay afloat.
He breeched the water again.
It was raining hard now and he could barely see his brother through the misty downpour.
He wasn't much more of a blurred speck in the distance now.
Itachi took a quick gasp of air before a wave resubmerged him in the water.
Despite his panic, it was more peaceful than he thought it would be.
It was quiet down here.
All the colors and sounds above seemed to become dull.
Opening his eyes and he gazed almost lazily at his reflection mirrored on the underside of the oceans face, he understood and accepted that he would never resurface.
Perhaps this is symbolic, he thought, perhaps this way I will be with mother.
The waves above now gently caressed his body below and he found himself confronted with a head of long, thick hair...
No, not hair, he realised, it was seaweed.
There would be no miraculous spiritual rescue courtesy of his mother.
At least I get roses and lilies at my funeral.
Despite himself, Itachi s face projected a hint of amusement at the thought of himself and his brother unwittingly throwing flowers into the waters that would provide him his final resting place.
It was a strange sensation, floating.
Gravity had no hold beneath the ocean.
The only thing that governed whether he rose or fell was how much air was in his lungs.
Closing his eyes, Itachi slowly let go of his breath, seeing no point in holding it anymore.
The bubbles tickled his face as they fought to get to the surface.
He vaguely recalled a song that mother would sing to them when they were children.
Perhaps if he sang it he would truly be with her in his death, as his brother believed he would.
He had no breath in his lungs and singing underwater wasn't his specialty.
Humming it would have to do.

As he sunk below the ocean, the corners of Itachis mouth twitched in the ghost of a peaceful smile.

The cold soaked him through to the bone and the shells on the pole tore at his flesh.
He couldn't see Itachi anymore nor hear him.
He gasped and held back tears.
Maybe he should let go as well.
Perhaps there was no point to go on anymore.
But he supposed Itachi wouldn't want that.
And neither would his mother.
So he clung to the pole with all his might, his clothes torn to shreds and his arms bleeding into the ocean like ink.

The night was long and cold.
He knew he was developing hypothermia and probably pneumonia.
Drifting in and out of consciousness he vaguely remembered wondering if his blood would attract sharks.
Eventually the storm stopped and with it the rain.
He continued to shiver.
When the sun finally rose, casting red rays across the still waters, his condition had deteriorated and he fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke to a sensation of movement and for a few seconds he thought of the waves of the ocean.
But no, this was a continuous movement that has no breaks in between waves.
He couldn't be in the ocean.
The boy twitched his fingers.
They felt stiff and although cold they were dry.
Slowly he opened his salt encrusted eyes.
Through the blur and haze, fluorescent lights overhead continuously flashed above him.
As he concluded he was laying on his back a sudden thought struck him.
In a hoarse, dry voice he whispered, "Am I dead?"
He didn't really expect an answer, who would reply if he really was dead?
Hence the boy started slightly when a man replied gravely, "Far from it, son."
Ah, humans.
I am alive after all.
It certainly explained the pain. The boy closed his eyes and sighed.
Fluorescent lights in Heaven would be a total rip-off anyway.


He had never really thought much of the cliché dark alley murder or robbery.
It never really struck him as the sort of thing that actually happened.
So he decided to take a shortcut home through a small alley that crossed his path and conveniently led 2 blocks from his apartment.
The flat soles of his heels made a crisp sound as he casually walked across the cobbled ground.
Not a soul in sight.
Obviously the "dark alley cliché" was incorrect after all.
He smirked slightly.
But when a sinister voice called out to him from the shadows, the grey eyed boy jumped in surprise and found himself repeating the mantra he whispered to himself every time he woke to a noise in the night.
Please don't be him please don't be him please don't be him
His fears came true, however, when he turned and heard chuckling coming from behind the dumpster.
"Hello, oh dearest son of mine," a familiar voice growled.

His heart skipped a beat when he recognized his father's voice. "Um, hello…" he replied uncertainly.

The air's temperature seemed to drop about 10 degrees Celsius.
"I have finally found you again," Fugato said, wrapping one of his huge hands around his son's mouth from behind and the other holding a knife to his throat.
"And, now it's time for you to die," he said, tightening his grip.
The hand around his mouth tightened and prevented his screams from reaching anyone within earshot.
The gap between the knife and his throat closed.
A sting and dribbling warmth told him that his father had pressed the knife hard enough to draw blood.

"You know it's been quite a while since I've seen you. And look at you now. 15 years old. You really grew up"

Despite his fear, the teenagers grey eyes hardened in defiance and hatred. This was undoubtedly the end.
His father was never one to draw things out.
At least Itachi wouldn't get caught in this one.
The growing sting in his neck and tightening muscles in his fathers arm told him that he was tensing to make his final move.
This would probably be his last breath.
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the image of his mother and brother.
Maybe they would be together again soon...

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Three gunshots were heard, and his father's hold on his son's throat let up as he fell to the ground.
The raven haired teen, still digesting what had just happened, turned around to see a figure, shrouded in shadows, pointing a revolver at where his dad had just been standing.
"You're welcome," a monotone said.
He glanced behind him at his fathers body; the garbage he had fallen into seemed ironically fitting.
Reaching up to his neck, his finger tips felt clotting blood around a wound that would scar.
He frowned in anger. His father really had been an asshole.
The click of a gun from the shadows drew his attention back to the other presence in the dark alley way.
Turning his head back to the front, the teenagers grey eyes watched the figure start towards him.
As the shadows smoothly reclined, the boy was revealed the body of his saviour, a hint of anxiety washed over him.
Unruly blonde hair, wide blue eyes...
Gun pointed at the raven haired boys heart...
He had never met this man before.
The youth lowered the gun and frowned, holding out his hand and indicating his fathers corpse.

"I hope you don't have to put up with shit like that all the time..."

Sighing in relief and less worried now that the gun was pointed away from his, the boy reached out a shaking hand and took it in the golden haired youths in a bloody handshake.
Running a bloodstained hand through his raven hair and glancing nervously back at his father, the teenager glared at what remained of his bloody head, tensing himself to run in case he got up again. Once he was confident that his father was in fact, dead, he replied in a cautiously optimistic monotone,

"Who are you..?"

The boys blue eyes softened and his eyes curved upwards in a happy, shut eyed smile.
He tugged the grey eyed boy away from the scene lest they be caught.
Several streets passed by in a blur and as they ran the blonde boy turned his head back and called out,

"My name's Naruto. What's yours?"

The boy with grey eyes and black hair glanced up at the blonde, still trying to digest all that had happened.
Deciding it was best to be straight and honest with the boy, he raised his head and replied,

"My name is Sasuke."


Tada!
Thats it...

I hope it satisfied your Uchiha Sasuke cravings because I am done with the butthole now.

He was cute when he was little...

And kishimoto ruined it D: