Perfect Vision
Disclaimer: Bread is to soup as fanfiction is to canon, filling in themselves, but delicious combined.
-ooo-
chapter 01: eyes, opened
'D*mmit, Itachi!' Sasuke cursed mentally as he suddenly sat up.
If he was a vengeful bastard, then his brother was a manipulative jerk and Sasuke was going to kill him (no matter that he did already and only because Mr. I-Know-Better-Than-You was goading him on for years). Arms finally free, he reached for his chokuto...and grabbed a handful of crumpled bedsheets.
'What the...'
"So you're finally awake." A voice spoke.
Now a brown-haired woman appeared by his side, easing him down to snow-white sheets and a striped pillow. He shrank from the contact before looking at her (and he could see her quite clearly, he noted), confused.
"Your body is still weak," she explained. "You should lie down and rest."
"I'm not dead?" Sasuke blurted the first thought that popped into his head.
"No. You're in Konoha General Hospital," the woman said, her expression unreadable . "Don't worry, someone will come to explain everything shortly."
That only further confused Sasuke, because he was sure he'd burned down the hospital when he destroyed Konoha. His eyes took in the spotless floors, the white ceiling, the crisp uniform of the nurse...all perfectly clean and intact.
"How are you feeling, Sasuke-kun? Any pain?"
Sasuke shot her an odd look. If his battles with the Leaf ninja were any indication, Konoha hated his guts for being a traitor. This medic obviously knew who he was, so to be addressed with such courtesy seemed out of place. He would have expected the village to lock him in a cell to rot to death.
"I'm fine." he replied, and coughed. Either his ears needed fixing, or his voice was having problems. He was practically squeaking. "Is there...water?"
"Certainly," the nurse smiled and went to pour him a glass. "Here you go. Drink slowly."
Sasuke reached for the glass and suddenly froze. With a sharp breath, he pulled his hands back for scrutiny, eyes taking in every detail of the white, nearly flawless skin.
He didn't have hands like that. Years of practicing and perfecting his skills had charred and burned them, so that the palms and fingers were permanently marred with scars. Karin used to never stop fussing every time she treated his wounds, scolding him for not treating his hands better. He couldn't have cared less, being more focused on mastering jutsu.
These were the hands of a stranger. The hands...of a child.
"...Sasuke-kun? Is everything all right?"
He scowled. The nurse sounded just like Karin too.
Ignoring her, he grabbed the glass with more confidence than he felt and downed a big, messy gulp, marginally aware of the pain it caused him to swallow. ("Ah! I said to drink it slowly!")
"I'm fine," he said dismissively, licking dry lips. "Who fixed my eyes?"
"Excuse me?"
"My injuries," Sasuke amended, glancing at the nurse as unease stirred within him. "If you're my nurse, you should know what they were." This whole situation felt off, but he couldn't figure out why, and it was starting to grate on his nerves.
"Well," the nurse said carefully. "Besides a few bruises here and there, you were brought in uninjured. Are your eyes bothering you in any way?"
"No."
'Yes they are, because last I checked I didn't have any left.' He needed more information.
"Who brought me in?"
"One of the village ninja."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. 'That doesn't tell me anything.'
"Which one?" There weren't many left after the last attack on the village. Did Naruto do it?
"I wasn't there to see," the nurse replied. "Done with your water?"
He nodded gruffly.
"All right. Let me take your cup." Sasuke complied, but caught his reflection as light bounced off the glass.
His grip tightened as he stared in disbelief.
"Sasuke-kun, you can let go now..."
He was seeing things. He had to be. Otherwise, the only other explanation...
("I am sending you back.")
Sasuke took in a deep, shuddering breath as his body shook with the implications—
No, this couldn't be...by Kami, it shouldn't even be possible...
"What are you...!" the nurse gasped as Sasuke threw the glass into her hands, spilling water everywhere. Before she could react, he was off the bed and half running, half stumbling towards the door, fueled by a growing sense of panic.
"Stop!"
His senses alerted him to the projectiles seconds before he ordered himself to dodge—and he used conscious effort to roll away, because his body wasn't responding as fast it should have been. The objects embedded into the floor and Sasuke grimaced as he counted five senbon needles.
"Please, Sasuke-kun," the nurse turned ninja said from a few feet away. "You must calm down."
Sasuke narrowed his eyes, noting how the subtle movement caused the woman to immediately tense. His back was towards the door, but proximity allowed him to sense what he couldn't before: invisible chakra seals, pulsing faintly beneath the woodwork. He quickly scanned the room—no windows in sight. The young Uchiha frowned, realizing he'd been locked in from the start. Disorientation had made him miss vital clues in the surroundings.
'Breathe, you idiot. Don't act like a fool.'
He forced himself to weigh his options. He was in strange territory under unfamiliar circumstances, injuries mysteriously healed. Dangerous or not, the medic-nin wasn't attacking him now, and he needed answers before he could escape from this farce of Konoha.
With that in mind, he halted the chakra gathering (more sluggishly that usual) in his palm, relaxing enough to casually pluck a needle from the ground. Twirling it between his fingers (all while ignoring his unnaturally smooth hands), he changed to sitting crossed-legged on the floor.
"Since when do nurses attack their patients?" Sasuke said with a glare. "Or..." he added, "Is it just Konohagakure that's different?"
'Is it just Konohagakure that orders a child to massacre his whole clan for the good of the village?'
"Forgive me," the medic-nin said. "But I have orders to keep you here from the Hokage himself."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And which Hokage would that be?"
Click.
Behind him, the doorknob turned, releasing a swell of chakra that unlocked the seals with a gentle sigh. Sasuke spun in time to see a figure enter, dressed in flowing robes and a tall, pointed hat.
His hold on the needle faltered, and it fell to the floor with a soft clink.
"I believe," the figure spoke as it bent over him with a weary smile. "I heard someone asking for me?"
Sasuke bit until he drew blood, but everything remained achingly, crystal clear.
It was the Sandaime.
-ooo-
He was eight years old again and the sole survivor of the Uchiha Massacre. Either this was the most elaborate genjutsu he'd ever experienced or some twisted form of purgatory, because Sasuke couldn't accept it as reality. And as he listened to a living, breathing Hiruzen Sarutobi regretfully break the news to his younger self, he half-toyed with the idea of destroying something—anything—to shatter the illusion.
Yet part of him hesitated, held back by old regrets and a pathetic kind of yearning to believe...to trust in the impossible as his idiot teammate would have done. There were so many things that had gone wrong and so much more that could have gone better if only he had the foresight.
Well, now he was foresight.
The Sandaime was asking him questions. He'd convinced Sasuke to return to bed, then sat in a chair while the nurse stood watch. Sasuke paused. The Hokage would probably use his answers to gauge his mental stability—few survived the tortures of the Mangekyo Sharingan intact, especially when the victim was still (by all appearances) a child. He swallowed a snarl at the memory of Itachi.
The first time around, he'd declared his thirst for vengeance and vowed to kill his brother to restore the honor of the Uchiha clan. The Sandaime had said nothing, only ordered that he be looked after, and returned a few days later to help him settle accounts as heir to the clan estates. The old Sasuke returned to the academy soon after, establishing a reputation as a loner and genius that easily became head of the class in his quest for revenge. But he'd gotten payback once, and it had led to more ruin. It felt unnecessary to repeat history.
'I'm sick and tired of being manipulated.'
"...do you remember anything from that night, Sasuke-kun?"
"No." Sasuke snapped. "And I'm not sure if I want to try."
Behind the Hokage, the medic-nin bristled at the lack of respect, but Sasuke could have cared less. He rarely used honorifics outside the clan—blame Uchiha arrogance for that (it was in the blood).
The older man heaved a long sigh. "Is that so?"
When Sasuke lowered his chin, Sarutobi leaned back and closed his eyes. "Well, well. Perhaps it is for the best."
"One question—" Sasuke started, before catching the medic-nin's pointed look. "...Hokage-sama."
The latter gestured for him to continue. "Go on."
Black eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You said that my brother was the one who massa—who killed the clan."
"That is true." Sarutobi nodded.
"Did he do it by choice...or because he had to?"
"What do you mean?" Sharp eyes peered at him from half-opened eyelids.
Sasuke briefly wondered how much the Third really knew about Itachi before deciding to push as far as he dared.
"My brother," he said slowly, "Hated fighting."
'Was a pacifist,' memory added as fists clenched unconsciously.
"He wouldn't kill without reason."
"Do you truly believe that, Sasuke-kun?" the Hokage asked.
His reply was an unwavering stare.
"Good." the old man said, to Sasuke's surprise. "Your convictions are strong. You'll be out of the hospital in no time with that spirit." He rose from his seat.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I doubt the answer would change your mind. Now then," Sarutobi smiled affably. "It is late, and you are still recovering. I will be back again tomorrow." the old man glanced at the nurse.
"Mori-san, come with me. We should give our patient time to rest." He exited with the woman, seals reforming afterwards to lock in a brooding boy.
-ooo-
Only after they left the hospital did Sarutobi stop to face his subordinate.
"Report," he said simply, taking out his pipe.
"Yes, Hokage-sama," the nurse named Mori-san nodded, before disappearing in a poof of smoke. Moments later, Morino Ibiki stepped out from the haze, expression clouded in thought.
"What is your assessment of Uchiha Sasuke?" the Sandaime asked, puffing on his pipe.
Ibiki shook his head. "Hard to say, Hokage-sama. The usual reactions after witnessing a traumatic event should be shock and denial—followed by anger or grief. But the young Uchiha seems to show none of these. If anything, he appears to have accepted events already, albeit bitterly."
"Indeed," the Hokage nodded. "He's believed everything we've told him without question, and all with a level of maturity commendable for his age." It was hard to believe the boy was only eight—he'd understood the explanations so well that the Sandaime had spoke to him as an equal.
"The only thing that troubles me is his preoccupation with Uchiha Itachi..." Ibiki trailed off. "I suspect the boy remembers more than he tells us."
"Perhaps that is his way of dealing with the tragedy," the Third remarked. "I don't wish to push him any further than necessary, Ibiki."
"But Hokage-sama, there are still unknown factors surrounding the night of the massacre," Ibiki protested. "If we were to press further, we could get a clearer picture—"
"He is a child, Ibiki. A new orphan, at that."
"He is still a shinobi of Konoha, and bound by law to protect this village. If he is withholding vital information—"
"He will not be a shinobi until he officially graduates from the ninja academy," Sarutobi said. "By current standards, he is still a Konoha civilian, and we are duty-bound to protect him. Now, is there any reason at this time for you to suspect Uchiha Sasuke as a threat to the safety of this village?"
Ibiki paused for a second before relenting. "No, Hokage-sama."
"Then your mission is complete." the old man put a hand on the shoulder of the scarred war veteran. "Let me handle the rest."
Ibiki bowed low, accepting his dismissal before vanishing in a poof.
Left alone, Sarutobi began strolling reflectively towards the Hokage Tower, hands behind his back and his pipe in his mouth. Danzo and the Council had moved far quicker than he'd anticipated, completing the annihilation of one of Konoha's most formidable clans in the course of a fore-night. It was all for the safety of the village, they claimed. The Uchiha were getting too powerful and restless—even he'd agreed with them on that point. Itachi's reports had been grim, clearly outlining the clan's intents to provoke a coup. Extreme measures had to be taken be prevent an escalation...
'Yet once again, Konoha left a child to bear the burden alone.' the Sandaime thought with regret as he gazed at the horizon.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting, blazing rays of scarlet fire against the darkening skies. Sarutobi released a long puff from his pipe, watching as the smoke trailed up to the clouds. An ordinary moment in an ordinary day, but for the awakening of the last Uchiha heir. And he prayed that it was not an awakening that would curse the village as his forefathers had done.
-ooo-
Two days later, Konoha General Hospital recorded the release of another patient in its archives. Sasuke brought little with him on the trip home—only a couple of academy-grade kunai and a holster that had been on him when he was admitted. He was wearing his own clothes (freshly washed), feeling oddly nostalgic in the white shorts, blue shirt and sandals. An ANBU had been sent to accompany him, a silent guard that asked no questions nor gave any answers, but stopped as soon as they'd reached the Uchiha Compound, indicating that Sasuke was to go on alone.
It made sense, because the compound was protected with all sorts of complex seals and security measures designed to keep prying eyes away from the clan's homes, sanctums, and secrets. Still, as Sasuke locked the gates behind him, he half-wondered who had managed to get the clearance to clean up the mess inside before he arrived. Kakashi, probably—he would have been the only one with a working Sharingan, and that was key in deactivating many of the built-in systems.
The cleaning crews, whoever they'd been, had done a spotless job. There wasn't a speck of blood to be seen anywhere. In fact, they had been so thorough that the entire compound felt like a hospital morgue, too neat and lifeless for a ghost town.
He walked through the empty streets, recalling a lost past. The first time around, he'd been in too much of a hurry to pay attention, intent on finding the secret room that Itachi had told him about. Now, reserve overtook impatience, and he let his thoughts wander, feet taking him where they willed.
There had been no funeral, for the simple fact that there were too many bodies and too little time. He was part of a shinobi family, and shinobi were expected to grieve quickly and move on. Death was commonplace. During his coma, the Council took matters into their own hands. Nearly all of the corpses had been cremated—either to protect the secrets of the Sharingan or because there hadn't been much left to bury. They called it the Uchiha Massacre for a reason, and despite his professionalism, Itachi had not been merciful with his kills. To their credit, the village elders had made memorial tablets for Sasuke's parents and placed them in a family shrine, the one place he avoided religiously.
As for the Sandaime, he had appeared again as promised, with Ibiki Morino of all people. The old man had dodged all attempts to question him, forcing a fuming Sasuke to listen as Ibiki explained his entitlements as the last lawfully living Uchiha in Konoha. It was the same information as the first time around, though the scar-faced interrogator hadn't been present before. An interesting detail to file away for later.
He'd ended the explanations by handing the younger boy a pen to sign for his claims. The man's tone was neutral, but his eyes had been coldly calculating, though Sasuke didn't respond with anything more than a noncommittal 'Hn'.
In the present, Sasuke paused before one of the buildings, seeing the familiar exterior of a dojo.
The genin-to-be cracked his knuckles before stepping in. Well, now was a good time as any to test his skills. He had four years to go before graduation, after all.
-ooo-
Hours later, drenched in sweat and lying on the ground, Sasuke came to a conclusion:
He sucked.
Not completely, of course—he still had his old memories, and with them, his previous knowledge of various jutsu. But what was the use of knowledge if you couldn't use it? Without a contract, he had no way of calling on summons in battle. His taijutsu had gone down the drain, limbs lacking the muscle memory and physical stamina of his previous body. Hospitalization hadn't helped matters. His genjutsu options were limited because he wasn't idiotic enough to parade around the Sharingan(1) this early in the time line. As for his ninjutsu...well, trying to form a Chidori now would probably land him in the hospital with severe chakra exhaustion. His body didn't have time to build up its reserves yet.
At least he still had his Great Fireball Technique. He supposed that counted for something as a eight-year-old.
With a grunt, he pushed himself off the floor and sat up, stomach growling in the process. Ah well, he'd just dig out a ration bar from his pack and—
Oh, right. He was in Konoha. Itachi killed the clan a few weeks ago, so no one was left to look after the food supplies. Most of them had gone bad, and he wasn't in a mood to cook up dinner with frozen leftovers.
Muttering darkly, Sasuke went to hunt for his wallet.
-ooo-
Sasuke wasn't sentimental (maybe emotionally scarred and obsessed with vengeance, but sentimental? never), yet he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss Konoha food after his defection. Orochimaru was a master at collecting ninjutsu and calling ninja to do his bidding—finding ones that could actually cook was another matter, too trivial in the plans for immortality and world domination.
It was approaching lunchtime on a bright day and the streets were filled with hungry people. As a child, he blended easily into the crowd, hands thrust in his pockets as he strolled through clouds of tantalizing vapors and amiable chatter. He never used to eat out if he could avoid it, finding the prices extravagant and the company insufferable. Living alone had accustomed him to loneliness and silence; stepping outside the gates of the compound was a slap to the face that reminded him constantly of everything he had lost.
And besides, the menus didn't have enough tomatoes.
He walked past stalls and establishments, senses absorbing the sights and sounds of a Konoha revived. The Uchihas had preferred keeping to themselves despite being Konoha's official police force—they practically ran their own village within the compound walls. So it was that, lack of patrol officers aside, the majority of village life went undisturbed.
Any lingering feelings of shock and horror over the recent tragedy had faded with time, and the people were content, the atmosphere relaxed. After all, their family members hadn't been massacred, and selfish as it sounded, they were happy. A happiness he had trashed as weakness to fill the emptiness of his own heart.
Gradually, the talking died down and the crowds thinned—he was approaching the last of the food stands. And as he continued walking, the faces he saw grew sober and more serious, even angry. It didn't take long to figure out why.
"All right! More bowls, old man!"
"Hey, you sure you can eat that much, kid?"
"Heh. 'Course I can! Ramen's the best!"
A short, spiky-haired blond child was sitting on a barstool of a certain ramen stand, finishing up his fourth bowl of noodles and still going strong. Despite the lunch hour, most of the villagers were giving a wide berth to Ichiraku Ramen, furtive glances and whispers confirming what Sasuke already suspected.
Uzumaki Naruto, demon host and outcast of Konoha.
He stopped walking to look. The dobe was dressed in a spiral-motif T-shirt and shorts (orange ones, he noted wryly) that showed knobby knees and bony elbows. His hair was in its usual messy state, and the large grin plastered on his face accentuated the whisker marks on his cheeks.
Same yet not the same. Seeing a younger Naruto of all people, in this time...it was surreal. Memories flooded back unbidden, things he didn't want to remember, not yet, not here, not now...
'Stop.'
With a will of steel, he forced the unwanted thoughts to a corner and walked forward.
-ooo-
Naruto didn't even bother looking up when someone slid into the seat next to him, too busy inhaling his food. Who knew that Konoha sold fresh ramen? Ichiraku Ramen was a godsend! He finished his fourth bowl and was reaching for the fifth when a pair of chopsticks rapped him sharply on the knuckles.
"Ow!" the blond drew his hands back, looking incredulously at the offender. "What was that for?"
"That's my order," replied a dark-haired boy as he claimed his meal.
"He's right, brat," Teuchi said with a chuckle as he arrived with another bowl. "Here's yours: steaming hot pork miso straight from the pot."
"Oh. Whoops." Naruto grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Thanks, old man." A few seconds more and he was a goner, lost in the oblivion that was ramen nirvana.
-ooo-
Six bowls and an emptied Gama-chan later, Naruto patted his bloated stomach with satisfaction.
"Now that hit the spot," he grinned to himself, admiring the towering stack of porcelain. Beside him, there was a soft click as someone placed a pair of chopsticks on the counter.
"Gochisosama(2)," a voice said quietly, and Naruto turned to survey his neighbor with interest. Spiky black hair. Pale white skin. Now where had he seen those before?
"Hey, do I know you?" he asked, squinting. The boy turned, and Naruto felt himself squirm beneath the scrutiny of cool dark irises. "What? Stop looking at me like that!"
Without bothering to reply, the boy calmly took out his wallet and paid for his ramen. Then he hopped off the barstool and walked away, raising a hand over his shoulder.
"Later, Uzumaki."
All right, now Naruto was really confused. He'd seen plenty of kids in the academy, but none of them fit the description of this weirdo who knew his name. But even as he leaned forward, demanding an explanation, a pair of men walked by, blocking his view. By the time they passed, the boy was gone.
"...huh?"
He jumped off his seat, scanning furiously for white shorts and a blue shirt (it had that funny fan symbol he used to see around the village all the time)—nothing, as if the boy had never existed.
It was a puzzle, and when Uzumaki Naruto couldn't figure one out, he ignored it.
"Ah, whatever! I'm gonna go do some training!"
-ooo-
From his perch in a tree, Sasuke watched as the blond sauntered off, hands folded behind his head. Eight, twelve, or seventeen years old, some things about Naruto never changed. He broke off a twig and flicked it at the mop of yellow hair.
As Naruto grabbed his ear and started hopping around like an angry grasshopper, Sasuke decided that his aim needed work.
His first thought after that was to go home and practice in private, but that meant navigating through the crowds again. It'd been easy to think of them as background noise, but seeing a younger Naruto in the flesh had jolted him to the fact that this was reality now. Facing the crowd, recognizing younger versions of faces that would be nothing more than corpses in his memory—it was a disturbing prospect. Heck, Sasuke's childhood memories of the loudmouthed blond had never been this clear, and the last time he'd seen him...
("I'm going to rip you into little pieces and feed them to the fox in hell, Uchiha.")
Sasuke shut his eyes with a frown. He had nothing against this Naruto, but seeing him was bound to turn up unpleasant memories of his future counterpart.
("Well, what am I supposed to do now, bastard? Who's left to help me with my problems after I help you with yours?")
Black eyes sprang open as he muttered an oath. By Kami, he was an idiot. Here he had the unbelievable chance to start over and change everything, and he was busy worrying about stupid things that hadn't happened yet—things that would never happen, if he changed them.
He swung himself off the tree and starting walking at a brisk pace. Plans and ideas swirled in his head in a frenzy—things to do, places to be—and histories to fix.
He couldn't to do it alone, Sasuke mused. But he couldn't start sprouting doomsday prophecies either. No adult would give credit to the words of an eight-year-old, much less one who had his mind tortured to the limits before succumbing to coma. Then again, most of the adults he knew had been pretty dense. Yes, they were great ninja and experts in their fields, but otherwise speaking...
Kakashi had narrowed his focus onto one student and completely forgot about the concept of 'teamwork' he'd preached so religiously, Kabuto was a traitorous double agent with an unhealthy obsession for cutting things open, and Orochimaru was the textbook definition of lunatic.
He didn't bother counting Madara or Itachi, because the last thing he wanted to admit was the possibility of idiocy running in the family.
"Oi, brat, git outta the way."
Sasuke looked up, but the voice wasn't directed at him. Ahead was a weapons shop, and the owner was standing by the door with a broom, waving it furiously at a familiar figure.
"Hey! I said I'd pay, didn't I?" Naruto complained as he nimbly sidestepped the wooden bristles. "I put the money on the counter already, so give me my kunai!"
"My shop ain't caterin' to the likes of ya, so scram!"
"Eh? How come? That's not fair!"
"It's my shop and I do what I want with it."
"Oh yeah? Well, I'm not leaving without them!" And Naruto made a dash for the door, only to be rebutted by a harsh thwack. As the boy fell to the ground, the shopkeeper hastily retreated, closing the doors behind him with a loud bang.
Moments later, the door opened again and a crumpled wad of bills sailed out to bounce off the boy's forehead.
"Ya can take yer business elsewhere!"
Sasuke watched as Naruto scrambled to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Fine then! I'll just buy 'em somewhere else, you hear? And I'll never come here again, not even for a single thing! You can go broke for all I care!"
Then the demon vessel picked up his money and stomped off, not even bothering to dust off his clothes.
Sasuke waited until the blond was out of sight, then approached the weapons store. He peered through the doors and saw the owner busy wiping the counter with disinfectant. A holster of kunai laid to one side, untouched. Shelves of shuriken littered the floor, while sharp, pointy objects plastered the walls. The store had no windows.
Yep, his eyesight was much better before the the whole Itachi obsession.
He entered and casually walked up to the register, waiting for the owner to notice him. The man was around middle-age, balding and overweight, with a sour expression twisting his features.
"Whaddya want?" he growled without looking up.
"I'll take this," Sasuke said, putting his hand on the kunai. He noted the blunted tips, dulled down especially for academy students. "How much?"
Small, beady eyes scanned the weapons and calculated the price before they saw Sasuke and did a double-take.
"You-! Yer from dat...I mean, yer dat..."
"My name is Uchiha Sasuke, if that's what you're trying to say,"
"Eh—yes. Yes, of course! Didn't mean ta offend there," the shopkeeper gave an embarrassed cough as he scratched the back of his head. "Right then, Sasuke-kun. Ya wanted those kunai? Lemme getch ya a bettuh set. This'll be on the house."
Che. Preferential treatment, huh?
"This set is fine," Sasuke intoned, taking the weapons before the man could touch them. "I'm surprised, though. I heard this shop doesn't cater to orphans."
"Now who said a ridiculous thing like that?" the man scoffed. "Tell ya what! Ya ever need anything, you come 'ere and I'll give ya a discount. How's it sound?"
"Generous." 'You hypocrite.' Sasuke's tone was flat as he tested one of the kunai. "You said you were giving these away?"
The man's chest seemed to puff up at the words. "Sure did! It's 'ah personal special. Yer in da ninja academy, ain'tcha? Gunna need some fine weapons ta be top 'ah da class.
"Nice of you to care." Sasuke droned.
"Well, yer a smart kid," the shopkeeper said in a low tone, as if sharing some great secret. "Talkin' real proper—like an' all dat. Polite, too. Plus, seein' as how recen' events..." The man coughed. "Ya deserve this." He bent down to grab a paper bag for the weapons, only to meet the boy's frown as he straightened up.
"That forehead protector..." Sasuke was pointing to a section of wall directly behind the shopkeeper. "You're a Konoha ninja?"
The man glanced behind him, seeing the worn headband pinned to the wall and surrounded by models of short-swords. "Heh, back in the day. Nevuh made it past genin, but nevuh retired, neith'r."
'And so not a civilian.' "I see." Sasuke said as he accepted the bag. "Thanks for telling me."
"Ya ever need pointers fo' da gradu'ting exam, I can give ya tips," the man offered. "Sasuke-kun, was it? Jes' drop by anytime."
Sasuke locked eyes with the man and smiled thinly. "Don't call me 'Sasuke-kun'."
-ooo-
Five minutes later, Uchiha Sasuke staggered out of the windowless shop, holding a paper bag. He paused on the doorstep, as if getting his bearings, before turning towards Konoha Ninja Academy. A figure in the trees watched carefully before following suit.
Five hours later, the wife of the shop owner stormed into the store with her apron on, demanding to know why he was late for dinner. Needless to say, she was shocked to find him sprawled in a heap on the ground, drooling and unconscious. Her first guess was that he'd been drinking on the job again, even though there was no sake bottle in sight, and so she did the natural thing: whack him with her frying pan.
When he woke up yelling and started attacking her with a stray shuriken, she was convinced he was drunk off his head and soundly boxed his ears.
"Ya don't understand!" the man cried hoarsely. "There were kunai! 'undreds of them, all a'tryin' ta stab me to death! I had 'ta defend mahself!"
"You old fool! You've been drinkin' and dreamin' up ninja tales again, haven't you?" the wife screeched. "Didn't I tell you to stop?"
"I wasn't dreamin'! And I'll have ya know I'm still ah cer-ti-fee-ied Konoha genin!"
"Well, Mister 'Certified Genin', you can eat your dinner cold, with the waitin' I had to do!" Ignoring further protests, she grabbed a ear and started dragging him home.
-ooo-
Sasuke was tripping over his own feet as he walked down the street.
'That was stupid.'
While staring at the shopkeeper, he'd started fantasizing ways to cut his face apart. Sasuke hadn't realized he'd subconsciouly activated Sharingan until he felt chakra burning through his eyes. It'd taken mere seconds to cancel the genjutsu, but by then the man had already collapsed from the mental strain and the boy was gasping from the effort.
'My reserves are pathetic right now.'
He'd caught his reflection in the counter and scowled as the telltale crimson of Sharingan faded away. Wouldn't that raise some nice questions with the Hokage?
After checking to make sure the man was alive—vitals steady, breathing normal—Sasuke had made a hasty exit. There shouldn't be any lasting mental damage, so the guy would wake up in a few hours, and he didn't want to attract unnecessary attention.
At least Konoha was still standing. He'd never heard of ninja casting illusions within an illusion without screwing something up. It was another small proof that this world wasn't a genjutsu.
Just how had Itachi managed to send him back?
'Looks like I'll need to reread those clan scrolls,' Sasuke immediately thought of the Uchiha's underground lair. Something crinkled, and he glanced down, realizing he'd tightened his grip on the paper bag.
The bag holding the practice kunai he'd bought from the shopkeeper, the ones he'd meant to get for target practice.
"Hn." He gazed at the package thoughtfully as an idea formed.
Time-travel paradoxes could wait. He had another target to track down.
-ooo-
Said target was hanging around the academy grounds. It was a Sunday, so there were no classes, and school was deserted. Sasuke stood behind a tree to watch as Naruto...threw rocks at the targets on trees. And missed. Horribly.
He waited a bit longer before impatience overtook him. Slowly, he bent down to pick up a tiny pebble by his foot. Then he carefully aimed for the painted bull's eye before flicking it off.
Ping!
It hit near the center before bouncing off. Not perfect, but definitely better than this afternoon.
"Eh?" Naruto blinked, before spinning around to see Sasuke. "What the...? It's YOU again?"
Sasuke raised an eyebrow at the outburst.
"Who are you?" A few leaps later and the other boy was standing before him, eyes squinting. "How'd you know my name? Are you following me?"
Now Sasuke was frowning. True, he'd never interacted much with Naruto in the academy, but for him to completely forget him was...surprising at best, insulting at worst. They were in the same class, and he'd only been absent for a couple weeks.
"What do you think?" he asked.
That threw the blond off-balance. "How should I know?"
"Che. If you can't figure it out yourself," Sasuke said, unwrapping the paper bag while Naruto shouted questions and hopped back and forth. "Don't expect me to tell you."
As Naruto was about to demand more explanations, five objects embedded themselves in the dirt before him. He froze, recognizing the objects as kunai.
"What was THAT?" the blond demanded, jumping a few steps back. "You could have killed me!"
"But I didn't. Besides, they're blunted," Sasuke sighed, tossing the bag aside. "You were doing target practice."
"Yeah, so?" Naruto asked, still keeping a careful distance away while the Uchiha twirled a sixth kunai around his finger.
"I watched. Your aim is atrocious."
"Ah-tow...ah-trosh..." Naruto sputtered.
"Meaning bad." Sasuke explained, and held up the kunai before the other boy could protest. "Look, you can't just throw things at a target and hope you'll get lucky."
"I know that!"
"Then listen," Sasuke growled, resisting the urge to tie the hyperactive brat down. "Throwing kunai accurately is all about the wrist movement. You've got to control how much force you use." Seeing the other's blank look, Sasuke stepped past him and into the clearing. "Watch."
The kunai felt much more familiar in his hand than a stick or pebble. He gave a final twirl, testing its weight, before letting loose at the target.
Thud.
He felt a small glow of satisfaction at hitting dead center before turning towards the blond, who was looking at him with a mixture of awe and indignation.
"Now you try." Sasuke said, gesturing to the rest of the kunai.
"Huh?" Naruto blinked.
"I can't teach you how to throw if you don't show me first."
The boy looked at him, eyes wide. "You're...gonna teach me?"
"You'll need to learn sooner or later," Sasuke said. "Unless you're planning to stay in the academy forever,"
That was enough motivation. Sasuke watched, bemused, as he tugged all five kunai out of the dirt and ran to his side.
"Watch this!" Naruto cried, before swinging a kunai. Without looking at the target, Sasuke already knew that he was going to miss. There was way too much power behind that throw.
"You're using too much of your shoulder, Uzumaki. Aiming is all about precision."
"Pre-sizz..."
'Right. I keep forgetting we're eight-year-olds.' "Just bend your wrist."
-ooo-
Hours later, Sasuke watched as Naruto laid sprawled on the ground, panting. His aim had improved marginally, but the boy had spent more time running and recovering badly-thrown kunai than throwing them.
"My arm hurts," Naruto complained.
"Giving up?" Sasuke asked, smirking. It was starting to get dark already.
"No way!" Naruto cried, scrambling to his feet and puffing out his chest. "I'm gonna be Hokage someday, you know! And a Hokage never gives up!"
The smirk faltered. "Hn. Hokage, huh?"
"Believe it!" Naruto was grinning brilliantly now.
"Then you should be getting home," Sasuke said, turning away. "Lesson's over. School's tomorrow, and a Hokage wouldn't be late for class."
Naruto scowled before he remembered something. "Hey, you forgot your kunai!"
Sasuke waved a hand carelessly as he walked off. "Keep them. I have more, and you need the practice."
"Eh? But..." Naruto's words died in his throat as he realized the other boy had disappeared again. Darn it! And he didn't even get a chance to learn his name!
Still...as the blond bent down to gather the strewn weapons, he couldn't help the smile creeping onto his face. He'd met someone his own age today, and one who was actually nice to him. That made five people since he joined the academy.
Well okay, so Sakura-chan seemed to forget he existed most of the time, but that was fine, 'cause it was still her first year. She probably needed more time to remember faces, that's all.
Humming to himself, the demon vessel made his way to home and a ramen dinner.
-ooo-
Later that evening, Sasuke opened the gates to the Uchiha Compound and stepped inside. Only then did the figure trailing him all day disappear in a poof of smoke. Ibiki would no doubt find his report interesting.
-ooo-
"You're certain about this," Ibiki repeated, glancing from the paper in his hand to the ANBU who had written it.
"I saw it with my own eyes, sir," The ANBU replied.
Ibiki sighed and drummed the desk with his fingers. The past few weeks had seen the ANBU Headquarters swarming with paperwork detailing the account of the Uchiha Massacre. Then there were the high-level archives of the Konoha Military Police Corps, also previously under Uchiha jurisdiction, whose reorganization and documentation had fallen on them as well. Knowing Fugaku's exacting throughness, that meant reading through mountains of files, even though Itachi had burned down half the building before his escape. Just yesterday he'd finished settling accounts with the last Uchiha heir at the Hokage's request, and now the brat was stuffing more paperwork down his throat.
'I'm an interrogator, not some record-keeping chunnin!' Ibiki cursed. "All right, then. Keep an eye on him for the rest of the week, and report back if anything else happens."
"Yes, sir," the ANBU vanished in a poof.
Under normal circumstances, the ANBU would be answering to the Hokage, not the head of T & I. But ever since Uchiha Itachi's defection, things had been in an uproar, and the Council was leery of any more slip-ups in the future. They'd ordered performance evaluations, increased surveillance sentries, and upgraded security measures for the village until things settled down. For once, Ibiki could accept their paranoia.
Surprisingly, the Hokage and Council heads were lukewarm on the issue, and even Danzo, one of Konoha's most obsessive (and vocal) protectors, stayed mute. Due to this, no ANBU squad was dispatched to hunt down Itachi. If Ibiki didn't know any better, he'd swear the bunch were letting the matter drop on purpose.
Apparently the Council suspected something along the same lines, which was why they'd voted to assign half the ANBU force for peacekeeping purposes until more ninja could fill in the gap left by the police corps. Special jounin like Ibiki were temporarily assigned to watch over these forces, and sending one agent to check on the Uchiha brat had been his idea. It wasn't so much fear over the boy's safety as it was caution against the boy's actions.
Something bothered him about Uchiha Sasuke. He'd noticed it while undercover—the boy's initial panic, the way he moved to avoid his attacks, and all those questions... He'd acted calmer and more clear-headed than any eight-year-old after losing his family overnight. Ibiki had no notions of Itachi's intentions, but he found it suspicious that Sasuke was spared when so many others had been killed—most of them civilians and children even younger than his little brother.
Using the Mangekyo Sharingan on Sasuke...it was very possible that Itachi kept him alive on purpose, perhaps to use as a pawn later on when the time was ripe. With advanced genjutsu, you could implant suggestions, thoughts—even fake memories—into your victims, and have them swear by them as truth afterwards. It was dangerously unclear territory, and Itachi had been one of the greatest genjutsu users of their time. The former ANBU captain was by all accounts an exceptional ninja. Sasuke's recent activity only heightened his suspicions.
'Why would a son of the Uchiha clan associate himself with the Kyuubi vessel?'
-ooo-
(1)Not sure where I read this, but canon has Sasuke first activating his Sharingan on massacre night before forgetting about it for the next four years. If it's not canon, it's at least my fanon, haha.
(2)Gochisosama - literally "Thank you for the meal", traditionally said after finishing eating. Excuse any grammar mistakes, I don't actually speak Japanese.
A/N: There's a lot of time-travel fics in the Naruto!verse, but not a lot of Sasuke time-travel fics. Author esama published End of one world a while back (which is awesome, btw, so go read it), but hasn't updated in a while, and I got inspired to try one myself. Key differences between that fic and this one is that Sasuke travels back four years earlier, and isn't quite as cold as esama!Sasuke. I'll see where he leads me from here.
Again, I am an AGONIZINGLY SLOW UPDATER, so read at your own risk.