A/N

Thanks to any and all readers. Again, I hope you enjoy.

-Louise

"Uzamaki! Uzamaki!" The crowd was chanting his name, and he loved it. Naruto wiped his brow of sweat, grinning at his opponent – Kushido Taraki. He was heavily built and taller than Naruto by a few inches, but it was clear who the better fighter was. Kushido was staggering already; breathing hard and full of rage. Idiot, Naruto thought. To be a real fighter, you had to use anger. You couldn't let it use you.

Maybe it wasn't obvious, but Uzamaki Naruto had plenty of anger to use.

"Uzamaki, Uzamaki!" they roared. Naruto smirked, leaning back against the ropes of the ring while he waited for the dark-haired man to regain his breath.

"Take it easy there, buddy. Don't wear yourself out too fast. We've only been going for... what? Seven minutes? Eight?" he taunted, shaking out his spiky blonde hair. "I expected more from a big, strong-looking guy like you."

Kushido Taraki glared at the young boy. "What kind of son-of-a-bitch did your parents raise you to be, Uzamaki?" He spat. Naruto paused, seemingly considering this.

"Well. You really shouldn't have mentioned my parents." He retorted pleasantly, before slamming his fist into Kushido's face so quickly the older man barely had time to blink. He didn't stop there. It was as if his fists were made of fire – he was a demon in the ring. A left hook, a right. A knee in the gut. Kushido never stood a chance.

"Hell." Naruto shook his head, ducking out through the ropes. "I raised myself." Kushido moaned softly, his face a mess of blood and bruises. Two guys hauled him out, pushing through the crowd that had parted for Naruto to walk by.

It's always so dark in here, Naruto thought, it's kind of poetic really. All of us down here... darkness suits us. He chuckled to himself as he punched the button to the elevator. Time to collect his cash, and then head on over to his rich-boy's apartment. Maybe he'd call the girls, show them a good time...

Nah. Taraki had managed to get a few good hits in. Naruto would be feeling them in a few hours. The doors slid open with a dull ping, and he stepped out onto the top floor. "Yo, Sado! I won, so where's my payout?" he yelled, banging on Sado's door.

"You loud bastard. Get in here." he heard the boss call from inside. Naruto grinned, pushing open the door and side-stepping Sado's giant bodyguard.

"Hey, boss! Did you catch the fight?" the blonde asked, waving maniacally at the pale-haired man sitting at the desk. His office was plainly decorated, but the man himself stank of cash. Smartly dressed and clean-shaven, he looked more like a white-collar business man than a widely-feared crime boss.

"Of course I did, idiot. You're lucky I had a lot of money riding on you to win." Sado said, leaning forward to push a white envelope across the desk. "Your next fight is in two days. Get some rest, but let those bruises show. I've got a couple of newbies who haven't seen you in action before. We're gonna cheat some suckers out of their money, alright? I want them to think you're a weakling."

Naruto shoved the money in his pocket. "Alright, boss. Whatever you say. Just make sure that if you get a big payout, you'll cut me more, okay?" For a moment, neither the fighter nor the boss said a word.

Then, they erupted into laughter.

"We're going to hell, aren't we Sado?" Naruto snickered.

"Not for a while, kiddo. Not for a while."

What kind of son-of-a-bitch did your parents raise you to be, Uzamaki?

Later, a bottle of sake in hand, Naruto contemplated what Kushido had asked. What kind of son-of-a-bitch might he have been, had his parents been alive to raise him? The thought made him laugh, and he took another swig. The taste kind of burned, but he relished in it. For the first time in his life, he had it made. Sitting in his swanky apartment, drinking his expensive booze, Naruto felt like a winner. Kami knew those feelings were rarities.

His head rolled aimlessly on his shoulders, eyes sweeping over the dark living room. The empty room cast shadows that played tricks on his blurred vision. Naruto rubbed at them angrily, before tossing the empty bottle to the ground and curling up on the couch. He laughed a hollow laugh, waiting for sleep to take him. Alcohol – insomnia's only cure.

So he waited, waited, waited, and wished for the millionth time that he'd led a different life. Too drunk to bother hiding the truth anymore, Naruto could've sworn he felt something slide down his cheek. But by morning, he'd forgotten about it, and the tear was nothing but an invisible stain on the armrest of his couch.

Sasuke knew all about hate. More than could possibly be healthy for a nineteen year old boy, in fact. But that hate that consumed him, lurked in the deepest recess of his mind, kept him from caring.

What of Sasuke Uchiha? He remembers her asking. He remembers shaking his head.

Itachi Uchiha killed him a long time ago, He remembers replying, right before leaving her in a tangle of bed sheets, her eyes glistening with tears. Like most things in Sasuke's life, hate had destroyed what he had with her as well.

Foster home to foster home, one place to the next, Sasuke wandered. He was trouble, a nuisance, a lost cause. After all, the nightmares had never really stopped. Even now they woke him, screaming and trembling, right before he cursed himself and his weakness. Nineteen and free of care, he'd made his way back to Konoha – the very place he'd been plucked from in an effort to quell the screams. He'd found an apartment, and he'd spent weeks searching for that accursed place his brother had warned him never to turn to. The Crimson Fist.

He found it easily. The accursed is drawn to the accursed, after all. He'd spent the past few days watching fight after fight, something sparking in his heart that he'd long-since forgotten. Excitement. Not exactly a happy emotion, but something akin to it. Sasuke guessed he should be proud of himself. He planned to sign up, and he planned to throttle the living shit out of anyone who dared get in the way of what he really wanted – information. All Sasuke Uchiha wanted was a single question answered.

Where the hell is Itachi Uchiha?

Sado ran both hands through his hair, breathing out an inaudible sigh. He picked his way through the files on his desk. He looked for something of interest, something to entertain him. Black market dealings, investigations, hate mail, Fist applicants –

A name caught his eye. A grin spread across his face, revealing two perfect rows of pearly whites. Sado chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. He'd been wondering about this one for a long time.

Sasuke Uchiha, eh? Well Itachi, the boy's following you after all.