Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long. School kept me really busy, and even though most of this has been written for a while now, it was hard to pick up and finish. This chapter, as well as the story, is from Sasuke's point of view, though I tried to make that clear at the beginning. So please enjoy and any reviews would be appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. If I did, things would be much different.
Chapter 1: Children in the Sunset
Side by side, all lined up we watch the familiar scene unfold before us. Naruto, tied up and looking stubbornly away from Iruka, who is shouting about the upcoming graduation exam. I could care less. I've been able to do these basic jutsu since I was a young child. I remember the hours spent practicing, vying for father's attention, his love, against my brother. But that's something I can never get now. It's all over, after that day. I seethe inside, rage building within me, but as any true shinobi would, I remain composed and aloof on the outside. I force myself to calm down quickly, I'll never become stronger if I let myself be sidetracked with emotional distractions. I need to be the strongest.
The rest of the class had let out a collective, indignant shout when Iruka had called us to the front of the room to perform a basic transformation jutsu earlier. No one should be complaining, if they expect to pass the exam tomorrow. They should have been training and already able to do much more complicated techniques. Their lack of skill and motivation irritates me, they're all beneath me, forcing me to waste time on abilities I'd mastered years ago. They were holding me back from my goal, impeding my progress to a painfully slow crawl. Especially Naruto, whose stupid, attention grabbing stunts always made us review the most basic of materials. He should just stay out of my way.
The class scowled at Naruto, berating him for causing the extra work. Lazy, every single one of them, none having the skill, talent, or drive to be what a shinobi must be. All children, who would go crying back to their mother's the second they were scared or the work got to be too much. My eyes narrow imperceptibly in agitation as I watch Naruto walk to the center of the room. The most hated boy in the class adjusted his goggles and squeezed his eyes together in concentration and determination, slamming his hands together dramatically into a sloppy ram seal. A large amount of chakra, way more than necessary, disturbed the air around him. He always summoned more energy than needed, not even being able to control himself. He'll just fail again tomorrow, he's already done it twice now, and he'll have to stay in the academy for even longer. He should just drop out, he's not cut out to be a ninja. Everything about him is exaggerated, snatching too much attention.
He shouts out "Henge," loudly before transforming in a puff of smoke. As the fumes clear, revealing his naked, female body, Naruto blows Iruka a kiss, sending him flying backwards with blood shooting out of his nose. So childish, but it has an undeniable effect on Iruka. Pitiful, a true shinobi should never falter from something like that. Now I know why Iruka is here, teaching a bunch of immature fools instead of completing missions. Naruto cackles and points at the incapacitated Iruka, but his mocking smile disappears when the teacher bounces back up and shouts at him, insulting his infantile, worthless technique. The normally mild and kind Iruka's face is contorted in rage, livid with Naruto's antics. The rest of the class groans and proceeds with the practice, each student completing the jutsu somewhat competently before going back to the back of the line.
I amble to the front when my turn arrives, simply making a hand seal and perfectly taking the assigned form of my teacher, who watches with stern eyes as his anger abates. "Excellent, Sasuke," Iruka praises as I walk back to join the rest of the students. I completely ignore the excited squeals and cheers from the girls and quiet whispers of the boys. All admiring my skills. The girls gush over me in a ridiculous fashion, none suited to be kunoichi. They are so distracted with crushing on me, praising my skills, that they fail to work on their own. Superficial crushes and worries about appearances consume all their time. I can't stand any of them. The boys just murmur about how good I am, how I'm the best. None of them can match up to me, none are at my level. They're all a waste of my time, annoying.
I walk through the streets after class is let out, spotting an orange clad figure hanging by ropes from the vandalized faces of all the hokage. Naruto, probably being forced to clean up his handiwork. That must be Iruka, the other, darker figure I see watching him to make sure he stays out of even more trouble. I heard of this stupid stunt when Iruka had rushed out of the classroom earlier to retrieve him. I walk alone, near groups of laughing, cheering students as we return home. They scamper around, splitting up along the path to run though the entrances of their homes, doors held open by mothers and fathers. Sometimes on is met by an older sibling and they walk together happily. I just shove my hands in my pockets and continue, slightly looking down to avoid the glare of the setting sun in my eyes.
It's later now, the sun has almost disappeared behind the mountain and the fading light casts and orange glow on everything. The streets I walked a while ago were filled with life, the hustling of people though the marketplace, the chatter of children and families, the smells of dinner being prepared. But now only the soft chirping of birds and trees casting long shadows on the ground accompany me. I prefer it here. Its quiet, away from mindless chatter and gossip. Away from the looks and the quick murmurs when they recognize me. "Isn't that the Uchiha boy," they say to each other in hushed tones, plainly unaware that I can hear them, "isn't he the last one now." They darkly speak about the fate of my clan, its utter destruction and its former glory. Each word makes me tense. Each word builds my rage, my hatred. They always talk at length about my brother. Him. By the time I walk away from them I'm gritting my teeth, remembering the thing that drives me, my reason for being. I tightly clench my hands in fists at my sides as I remember their words. Soon they'll have a new story to tell. Soon they will speak of the death of brother, his annihilation at my hands. Soon they will speak about the returned strength of the Uchiha, restored by my power.
I reach the deserted, dilapidated Uchiha compound. I walk between the old buildings, falling apart from lack of care and the punishment of the elements. Paint is chipping off of old houses, off of the bakery that Aunt Uruchi always kept so neat. There was never a speck of dirt here in her lifetime. Her broom is left cracked and splintered among the dust that has accumulated over the years. One of Uncle Teyaki's bloodstained sandals lies under the torn down shop's sign. Near it is a piece of ripped fabric and a Konoha Military Police Force badge. It probably belonged to someone who had tried to fight back. There are still things in the streets, signs of old life littering the ground. But it's all ruined now. He's ruined everything.
I stand looking out at the compound, at all the vast destruction, under a red orange sky. I last saw that sky in my brother's eyes. The eyes were he made me see everything. I continue to stare until the sky turns black the bright moon emerges, a moon that last time was obscured by blood.
This is the long way home. I usually don't go this way. It's too hard. My legs always tense up and won't keep going whenever I get close. But I have to see it one more time. I have to see my motivation just this once, to take it with me into the exam tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day, the day that I'll finally become a shinobi and come so much closer to reaching my goal. Tomorrow is the first step of my rise to the top.
I turn out of the compound at the end of the road and continue to walk home. As I feel the cool air fill my lungs, I taste moisture, and soon I hear the low rumble of thunder. I walk on to the sounds of a storm starting in the distance.