51

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE:

Sasuke wasn't sure what had made him talk to Naruto that day at the Academy– anger, jealousy, envy... something thick and toxic had twisted itself up inside him as Naruto fretted to Iruka about his strong, smart sister who was competing in the Chūnin Exams. And then he'd learned that Naruto's sister was their age and for a moment he'd felt hate. How was she so strong, already competing to be a Chūnin when Sasuke was as useless and pathetic as a civilian, not even worth killing?

He'd wanted to shake Naruto, to scream in his face, to shove him from the tree branch for how he just didn't care that they were weak-weak-weak, because how could he not care, how could she be so strong!? And then Naruto had snarled out a familiar name and Sasuke's rage stilled, shivered; shifted to something else entirely.

Danzo. Shimura Danzo.

The eye thief.

When Naruto had blurted out in class that a village elder had stolen 'a bunch of Uchiha eyeballs', that he had 'put them in his arm to use', Sasuke had thought for sure that the other boy had been lying. The thought of something so– so blasphemous occurring in Konoha was just– it was beyond belief.

And yet–

"I'm so sorry, Sasuke-kun," the Hokage had said sadly as Sasuke was presented with the Sharingan eyes of his massacred kin. His father's eyes. His mother's eyes.

It was like they'd been murdered all over again– only worse, because they had been defiled, dishonoured, and as the de-facto Head of the Uchiha Clan in His absence, even if he couldn't sit in on Council meetings until he was legally of age or a genin, it had been Sasuke's responsibility to ensure such violation did not befall them. This– this desecration of their bloodline was his fault, his failure. Because he was too weak to stop Him from killing them, and then he was too weak to stop Shimura Danzo from raping their corpses.

And because he didn't know how many of his kin had been defiled, Sasuke didn't even know if all the Sharingan recovered from Shimura had been returned to him. He didn't believe the Hokage for a moment when the old man swore on his honour that they all had– they were shinobi, not samurai. What honour did they have?

Sasuke had taken the Sharingan that had been returned to him home, had burned them as they should have been burned with the bodies of the dead, returning them to the flame that the Uchiha had first been crafted from, and then he'd curled up in his parents' bed, in the sheets that still smelled of his mother's perfume, and just sobbed until eventually his tears dried and he was left numb and empty.

He didn't leave the bed of his parents for six days, except to use the bathroom for the first two. He felt listless, lifeless; remembering hurt, it was so much easier to sink into a fugue of nothing. Eventually an ANBU came and carried him to the hospital. He was kept there on a psych hold for three weeks, forced to speak each day to a Yamanaka and swallow down colourful pills that cut through the fog, turning the world blindingly bright and harsh and real once more, before he was allowed to return to his home.

(The fears of his civilian relatives grew tenfold after the incident, so terrified they were that he was just like his brother, that he would one day snap like He did and murder them all)

Nobody had mentioned Shimura Danzo in his presence since– not his relatives, his teachers, his therapist or the Hokage. Nobody except Naruto. Naruto, who, Sasuke realised, had reason to hate Shimura Danzo just as Sasuke did. Naruto, who, because of Shimura, had been left just as alone in the world as Sasuke was.

Sasuke still wasn't sure why he'd talked to Naruto that day– but he didn't regret it. He didn't regret following Naruto when he ditched class, didn't regret visiting the other boy's shrine where he listened to him speak of his own massacred clan, of free will and the rage of gods. When Naruto asked about visiting the Uchiha's shrine to Amaterasu Omikami, the truth of his clan's treatment toward him had slipped from Sasuke, almost unbidden. Maybe it was because Naruto was the first person he'd ever felt could possibly understand, as he tried to explain that the Uchiha civilians didn't like (hated-feared-loathed) shinobi. That they didn't like (hated-feared-loathed) Sasuke.

There had been no pity in Naruto's eyes– only an understanding that Sasuke greedily drank down, like a man dying of thirst in a desert who had stumbled upon a well. And when that understanding had come with an invitation, despite knowing the foolishness of attachment and against his better judgment, Sasuke had accepted the offer.

The apartment Naruto shared with his sister was tiny, smaller even than some of the rooms in Sasuke's house, and old too. But it was homey; it had a clean, floral smell, the walls were painted a warm yellow and the curtains were stitched with a pattern of orange foxes gambolling about the spiral that Naruto always wore on his clothes and in recent months had taken to painting on his forehead. The furniture was cheap and second-hand, but it was well-looked after and in good condition and there was a beautifully decorated blanket arranged over the couch; an embroidered pattern of intricately detailed snowflakes amidst which wolves with eyes of coloured glass beads howled.

"You can have Ko-ane's mat for now," Naruto said cheerfully. "We'll get you one later."

Sasuke had snorted to himself, not expecting for a moment that there would be a 'later'. He imagined he'd only stay a day or two before he grew too annoyed with Naruto, who was always so loud and annoying in class and was stupid enough that he'd been held back three times.

It didn't take long for Sasuke to realise how wrong he was.

His first hint was the loudness.

Or rather, it was the lack of. Because Naruto wasn't loud in the apartment; he was still enthusiastic, still bright, still chattered endlessly away, but he didn't shout, didn't draw attention to himself the way he did at the Academy. Even his clothes were different, the orange jumpsuit traded for a simple pair of black shorts and nondescript grey t-shirt.

Knowing how Naruto acted in the apartment, the difference was so obvious to Sasuke's eyes; he could literally see the shift as it happened, how Naruto seemed to change personalities the moment they stepped on the Academy grounds, all his sharp edges turning blunt and thick.

Sasuke didn't understand. Why would Naruto want to appear less than he was? And why would he choose the Academy to flaunt his presence the way he did?

It didn't take long for Sasuke to figure it out, after sitting in class and puzzling over the mystery as Naruto cheered loudly with Kiba– Naruto's sister had disappeared, stolen away with nobody to look for her or notice she was missing. Everybody noticed when Naruto didn't show up– he was too loud to miss.

Sasuke couldn't help but look at Naruto with new eyes following this realisation.

And that was only the first hint.

The next thing he really noticed was how Naruto carried himself in the streets around his apartment building.

Naruto lived in a part of Konoha that Sasuke's parents would have never have let him go near. The streets weren't dirty, but they had an unclean sort of air about them and the people that walked them weren't the type that a proper, well-bred Uchiha should be associating with. The first time Sasuke realised one of the women Naruto had stopped to greet was a prostitute, his face had turned so hot Naruto wouldn't stop laughing at him for nearly ten minutes.

He'd started looking around them with new eyes after that, seeing the exaggerated sway of the women's hips as they walked, the colourful tattoos covering the men, and the worn clothes on the children with the three stripes on each cheek– the same stripes that Naruto had painted on his cheeks.

Oh, he'd realised, very quietly.

Prostitutes. Criminals. The street kids his father had ranted about– children who lived, worked or spent long periods of time on the street without any parental or guardian supervision. His father always said they should sign up to the Academy and serve their village, so their existence wasn't such a waste.

It took Sasuke longer then he'd admit to realise what felt so different about Naruto as they walked through the streets where the other boy was so obviously at ease– the Yūkaku, Naruto had called it. Sasuke almost couldn't believe it when he did, but Naruto felt dangerous here. It was the way he held himself, the way he walked; he prowled, almost– instead of making himself small, the way he did in the village proper, here he let his presence stretch. And the people around them, they seemed to respect Naruto. The women would stop to greet him, the street kids would mutter and pass things off to him, even the men with the colourful tattoos would nod at him and Naruto would nod back while Sasuke felt unease shiver through him at being under such cool, hard stares as those men.

The final big hint he had that Naruto was so much more then he'd seemed came the day the other boy had accompanied Sasuke when he'd returned to the Uchiha Compound to gather as many of his things as he could carry, intent by then on taking up Naruto's offer to stay with him for at least a few weeks. Now that he knew Naruto wasn't the terrible roommate he'd been expecting, the thought of being away from his clan was a desperately welcome one.

On their way out, Naruto stopped in the doorway of Sasuke's house and tilted his head.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, "you've got shadows, too."

It took Sasuke a moment of following Naruto's stare to spot the ANBU crouched on the rooftop across from them, and he turned wide-eyes towards Naruto, who was acting as if spotting ANBU was easy– and as if having ANBU watchers was normal. It wasn't– either spotting them or having them. Sasuke wasn't sure how he was supposed to convey that to the other boy.

Naruto's smile turned fox-sly and sharp as he leaned in. "Wanna learn how to ditch 'em?" He asked, voice hushed.

Itachi had been an ANBU once.

"Yes," Sasuke breathed back, at once thrilled and bewildered and just so, so confused by everything about his classmate. Naruto's smile widened, his teeth gleaming bright and white.

Some distant part of Sasuke remembered reading once that most animal species showed their teeth as a sign of aggression; a display of threat.

"This is gonna be loads of fun," Naruto said gleefully.

It was fun. Sasuke hadn't known that Naruto carried flash-bang seals and paintballs in his pockets, but by the time the ANBU had been left far behind them, he was breathless with adrenaline and excitement both and fully aware of the fact he had badly underestimated Naruto.

He wasn't about to make that mistake twice.

Once they'd reached Naruto's apartment, Sasuke carefully unpacked the things he'd brought. It felt strange, unrolling his mat alongside Naruto's and carefully placing the photograph of his parents on the little shrine Naruto had in the corner of the apartment. There were no photos on Naruto's shrine, he'd explained he didn't have any photos of his parents, but there were three framed pieces of embroidery– one of the spiral Naruto wore, one of a grey-furred wolf with yellow-gold eyes, and one of a red fox with nine tails in shades of red, orange, bronze and yellow, like flickering flames. Sasuke wasn't sure why they'd want an image of the Kyuubi on their shrine, but supposed it was because their parents had died during the attack. It still seemed strange to him.

Other then the photograph and the mat, he had brought over his pillow, several changes of outfits, and his gear and supplies for the Academy. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to live off for several weeks. There wasn't a lot of room in the single cupboard for his clothes, but Naruto simply shoved his things over to make room for Sasuke's and he pretended he didn't feel a warmth in his chest that Naruto cared enough to make room in his life for him.

"Hey," Naruto said, once they'd finished unpacking Sasuke's things, "wanna meet Tama-neechan?"

Sasuke frowned, uncertain. "I thought your sister's name was Fuyuko?" he said. "And that she was in Kiri?"

Naruto pulled a face, something dark flickering briefly over his expression before it straightened back out again. "Yeah," he nodded, "Tama-neechan ain't really my sister. She's my boss," he explained. "I do stuff for her an' she takes care of me. She's real nice an' she should prob'ly know you're living with me. An', ya know, that you're mine."

"I'm not yours, dobe," Sasuke scoffed, shoving the other boy. Naruto laughed, bright and cheerful.

"Well, yeah," he said, "we know that, teme. But some of the people 'round here, they're not so nice. So it's prob'ly best that it's passed around. So there's no trouble, ya know?"

No, Sasuke didn't know. He wasn't even sure what sort of trouble Naruto could be talking about, or who he was suggesting might be a threat and how this "Tama-neechan" could help. But Naruto seemed serious, so he nodded and when Naruto beamed at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door, he couldn't find it in himself to resist.

Naruto led him through the streets of the Yūkaku, occasionally pausing to wave at people, to what looked like an abandoned building; the paint was peeling and the wooden walls were half-rotted away. "Come on," Naruto said cheerfully, sliding through a gap in the rotted wood without any hesitation. Sasuke only paused a moment before following.

Inside was gloomy and bare, long since gutted of anything of worth; Sasuke could hear the scuttling sound of small animals and insects around them and there were charcoal marks on the stone floor where an old fire had once burned. With a jolt, Sasuke noticed that they weren't alone– there were three boys lounging around, all of them older; the oldest maybe thirteen or fourteen, while the youngest was about nine.

"Hey, Komorebi-kun," one waved lazily at Naruto. "Whaddya doin' here? Whose ya friend?"

"I was just lookin' for Tama-neechan," Naruto explained cheerfully, "I wanted ta introduce Sasuke to her."

"Boss is off doin' business," one of the other boys said and Naruto pouted.

"I'll have ta introduce you another time then," he said, sounding disappointed, before perking up slightly. "These are Nen, Kichi and Mitsuo," he said, each boy waving a hand in acknowledgment of their name. "They work for Tama-neechan too."

Sasuke nodded a bit awkwardly at them. He didn't really know what to do or how to act in a situation like this. None of his training had ever prepared him for such a situation; either his training as the son of a clan head, or as a shinobi.

"Hey, Komorebi-kun, you gonna hang out with us?" Kichi asked; he'd pulled a little baggy of what looked like some sort of plant matter from his pocket and Naruto quirked his head a little when he saw it before shrugging.

"Sure," he said. "If you wanna?" he turned to Sasuke who just nodded jerkily, unsure and a little intimidated but not willing to show it. Beaming at him, Naruto joined the three boys sitting down; Sasuke sat next to him and watched suspiciously as the boy Naruto had introduced as Kichi started to sprinkle the plant matter over a square of rough paper he'd pulled from his pocket, before picking it up and rolling the paper into a cylinder, sealing it with a lick of his tongue.

One of the other boys, Mitsuo, had a box of matches and Sasuke watched, confused and more than a little uncertain, as the end of the cylinder was lit and Kichi lifted it to his mouth, inhaling deeply like one of the pipes the Uchiha Elders liked to puff and exhaling a cloud of funny-smelling smoke.

Kichi handed it over to Nen, who copied his actions, inhaling deeply before exhaling and passing to Naruto. Sasuke grabbed Naruto's arm before he could lift the funny cylinder to his mouth; his heart was beating too quickly in his chest, an edge of panic that he couldn't quite suppress from his voice.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. Naruto blinked at him.

"'S okay," he said. "'S just the giggly stuff."

"Giggly stuff?" Sasuke asked warily as Nen snorted and Kichi and Mitsuo both laughed.

"It makes you giggly," Naruto explained. "Wanna try?"

Sasuke didn't want to try. But he also didn't want Naruto to think he was– that he was afraid, so he snatched up the cylinder and tried to copy how Kichi and Nen had sucked on it, only to end up coughing, the smoke burning his lungs as he dropped the cylinder. Through watering eyes, he saw that Naruto had caught it before it could hit the ground.

"Ya don't have ta rush it, kid," Kichi said, reaching over to ruffle Sasuke's hair. Sasuke was still coughing too hard to protest the indignity. "Go slow."

The cylinder was pushed to his lips again and Sasuke, eyes streaming and throat raw and burning, tried to breathe the smoke in slower this time. Almost instantly he felt lightheaded.

"How's that?" he heard Kichi ask and he nodded dazedly. The cylinder was passed around the circle several times and with each inhale, Sasuke found he felt dizzier and dizzier but also lighter then he had in a long time.

At one point, Naruto giggled and nuzzled his cheek against Sasuke's. Sasuke tried to copy Kichi's earlier actions and ruffle Naruto's bright hair, but his aim was off and he ended up tugging accidentally rubbing his hand over Naruto's face instead, which sent both of them into fits of laughter– he could see why Naruto called it 'giggly stuff'.

When the cylinder was finished, burned down to nothing but ashes, Sasuke was drowsy and half-asleep, curled into Naruto's side, Naruto's hands in his hair, idly stroking. For once, he wasn't thinking of his parents or his brother or the way the surviving Uchiha looked at him like he was about to snap and murder them all. All he was thinking about was how sleepy he felt and how warm Naruto was beside him.

"I don' ever wanna leave," he mumbled into Naruto's stomach. Naruto tugged his hair lightly.

"So don't, silly," the other boy huffed. "I told ya– stay with me an' Ko-ane."

"...can I?" Sasuke whispered.

"You can," Naruto promised.

"Okay," Sasuke smiled, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep, heart light and warm in his chest.

~

A/N: so I did a research project in uni this year on drug use in street children (defined as "those who live, work or spend long periods of time on the street without parental or guardian supervision") and in a systematic review of 27 studies comparing drug use in a street child versus a non-street child, it was found that a street child is 60 percent more likely to use drugs. Drug type depends on the country, age and previous experience.

Being accepted into groups on the streets can be the difference between survival on the streets. Being part of a group can guarantee food and security. However, when they are accepted into groups, street children need to show their commitment to the group. One way of doing this is through drugs. Tobacco and marijuana are the most common. The group sits around and passes the drugs from person to person and refusing to smoke is not acceptable because of group pressure and the need to show affiliation to the group. Regardless of the form it takes, substance abuse is an almost inevitable consequence of life on the streets.

Drug abuse is a tragedy and I'm not intending to romanticize it at all, rather bring to attention the horrors that street children are confronted with. It will not feature heavily in this story but I'll add a warning tag for it.