Summary: AU. 22-year-old Naruto hadn't really been thinking when he had asked for guardianship over Uchiha Sasuke, five years ago. But now that Sasuke was a ninja, Naruto finds he has little choice but to come out of retirement to keep Sasuke in line. Damn it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Jacksonian March

chapter one

Uzumaki Naruto.

Age 17.

Alive.

Genin. (a hasty, barely legible handwriting follows with detail) refer back to "that event" ten years ago; eligible for jounin, skill-wise; surveillance recommended. unstable. dangerous. the nine-tails' (following words are scribbled out to the point of illegibility)

57 D-level missions. 23 C-level missions. 4 B-level missions. 1 S-level mission.

(in bold) Retired. Approved by the Hokage.

Lineage- Namikaze Minato (father, deceased) & Uzumaki Kushina (mother, deceased), no confirmed siblings or extended family.

Notable features- blond, blue(scribbled out) violet eyes, 5'11", three horizontal, parallel scars on each cheek (in the same, hasty handwriting, it continues) wears a constant look of nonchalance, capable of lots of(underlined three times) noise, sometimes seen in orange.

Requested guardianship over Uchiha Sasuke.

The verdict is not passed until the end of the week.

Approved. Tentative.

Date- five years ago.

It was funny how quickly things—things like routine—spun out of control in less than twenty-four hours.

The morning had carried itself in its regular, monotonous rhythm, with the sunlight penetrating past the old, hand-me-down curtains that he had half-heartedly tacked onto the window by his bed some years ago. It had proceeded exactly as it did every day: he had slammed his hand a couple of times on his well-abused alarm, had rolled out of bed, had bodily dragged himself to the bathroom. He had scowled at his reflection, had undergone the daily dose of self-hate, had brushed his teeth. Everything had gone perfectly peachy.

The afternoon had been no different. He had put off his share of the chores (the grocery shopping, the laundry, the dishes, and the vacuuming), had spent a large chunk of his time at Ichiraku. He had forced himself to ignore the looks of venomous loathing from the general public, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater. His feet had carried him down the same pattern of streets and alleyways that he had been treading since his status had gone from son-of-a-legend to ex-ninja and monster (shortly put, about ten years in between then and now) with a majority of his attention turned up towards the sky. It had been a good day, relatively speaking.

He'd had every intention of spending the approaching dusk in the same, mind-numbing lull, already crouched before the memorial stone, tracing names of familiarity with his eyes. After this, he would have gone back to his apartment, pick some ridiculous excuse to feed Sasuke (whenever the kid got home from self-training) as to why he hadn't gone grocery shopping, hadn't done the laundry, hadn't done the dishes or the vacuuming. They would argue for a while, followed by supper (curry, tonight), followed by good-natured wrestling, insult-exchange, and finally, a quiet moment with each other, reflecting on their day. He never really had anything to reflect on, but this was his favorite time of the night, so he would lie there, connecting the dots of his ceilings together, feeling content for a little while.

Then the clock would ring, and it would have been time for bed. He would badger Sasuke into relinquishing the bathroom sooner than Sasuke preferred, would take a shower, and head for Sasuke's room. After a brief moment of teasing, he'd bend down, put his hand down onto Sasuke's forehead and whisper a good night. If he was lucky, Sasuke would sometimes roll himself to the side, exposing his back, and respond (gruffly) in kind. He spentthose nights in inexplicable joy, eyes closed, lips grinning, until the night surrendered him to slumber.

Next morning, the process would repeat, except he'd do the chores. But the fundamental outlines of his day would remain largely unchanged.

Now.

That was how things were supposed to go.

Somewhere in the middle of when he had been busily reading and rehearsing the names of the dead in his head, there had been a break in the system.

It started off slow as a simple shadow that befell the patch of grass a little bit to his right. And from there, it had spun out of control.

He knew that shadow. He knew that presence, that man, that gaze that pressed heavily against his back. His first instinct, for the briefest moment of a second, was to run. But note the brief; you did not run from people like Morino Ibiki, especially when the man had found it imperative to find the time to seek you out himself.

And so he took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump of bitter aftertaste, and craned his gaze upwards. The sky was cloudless.

Damn. How boring.

"Uzumaki Naruto."

Damn, damn, damn. Ibiki started the conversation first—spindles of adrenaline and growing dread unfurled themselves from the deep recesses of his mind. He couldn't just ignore the man—no, you did not ignore men like Morino Ibiki, just like you didn't run from them—but he didn't have to be entirely cooperative either. So he didn't bother turning, simply raising a hand in half-meant greeting. "Yo."

"You can be a difficult man to find," Ibiki commented.

Naruto disagreed. "Eh, I'm here every day."

"So I've been told."

Ibiki's steps were barely audible, light and silent against the grass despite the man's imposing stature and frame. Naruto shifted himself a little bit to the side, edging in an extra centimeter of distance between them, and flicked his eyes to the upper corner to catch sight of Ibiki staring down at the memorial stone. The edges around the man's eyes tightened—this was a common symptom to all those that visited this rock, a common symptom of those that lost someone they called a comrade. Naruto glanced away. It was an unspoken rule of thumb, this tact.

It was an odd scenario, one so bizarre that Naruto found it difficult to employ his regular dose of impatience. Ibiki was filling the necessary quota of respect required of all those that treaded within the half-mile radius of the memorial stone, remembering, just as Naruto had been.

Thankfully, Ibiki didn't seem interested in drawing out the moment any more than necessary. "I'm a little pressed for time."

Reading between the lines, filling in the gaps, was far too easy; the pleasantries and the bullshit would be skipped right over, going straight into business. That suited Naruto just fine. "Right, okay. So, what do you want?"

"Umino Iruka was hospitalized this afternoon."

But that. That didn't.

Naruto underwent a full-body twitch in which the anxiety took on the distinct taste of dread and a small dose of conditioned terror. He rose quickly—perhaps a little too quickly—and fought to steady himself as his muscles readjusted to their sudden change in position. That didn't stop his voice, however. "Hospitalized? What the hell for?! Is he alright?"

"He's stabilized," Ibiki said. He turned to angle his body towards Naruto, immobilizing him with the stare that had broken the greatest of men, tearing their secrets directly from their lips. It was the only reason why Naruto had placed an immediate halt order on the instinctual readying of the series of movements that would carry him to the hospital, to Iruka's side.

"The Academy was attacked," Ibiki continued, his sharp gaze never leaving Naruto, "Several of the students could not be evacuated in time."

Panic rattled at his instincts, flaring them into working order as the word Academy and attack echoed against his eardrums in tandem.

Academy. Attacked.

Academy.

Sasuke.

Ibiki caught his upper arm a split second before Naruto attempted to dart. His fingers were unrelenting, merciless, and Naruto made a dim realization that it was for this strength and Ibiki's line of work—where fleeing fugitives were of the norm—that the man must have been hand-picked to deliver this message. "Hold it, Uzumaki. The Academy grounds have been sealed off. You won't find any leads there." A short pause, and then, "If you go out there now, without any background knowledge, you'll only add to the body count."

Naruto forced himself relaxed a fraction, only to doubly tense when Ibiki's fingers grew tighter, in silent warning for worse news to come.

"I'll keep this brief," Ibiki said at last.

"Yeah," Naruto swallowed, "Please."

It was a hostage situation. The students that had not been evacuated had been carried off to a cot in the outskirts of the village, held under the guard of ninjas of Stone—

"Stone?" Naruto had intervened, brows furrowing dangerously, "How the hell?"

—whose presence had been confirmed by Iruka's last breath before falling into such a state of emergency that he had been immediately transferred to the nearby hospital. The rest of the information came from the mole, a man named Mizuki Touji, freshly named missing-nin and now ex-instructor of the Academy. One of Iruka's co-workers. He hadn't managed the getaway as cleanly as the Stone Chuunins, leaving him under the jurisdiction of one Morino Ibiki. (Here, Naruto had to wince, though pity ranked among the last of what he felt for the individual in question.) Mizuki had helped the ninjas of Stone gain access into the village. (It was with much relief that Naruto realized that the Stone hadn't been able to infiltrate on the sole basis on the lax security deployed at the village gates.) Several bodies of students had been then delivered to the village as a warning; a primitive, though unfortunately effective, method in striking terror into the opposing side.

The terms of exchange was simple, Mizuki had been forced to explain: the Scroll of Sealing for the remaining children. The deadline was by midnight, tonight.

Ibiki handed him a piece of paper next. Naruto accepted it with his free hand, frowning as he ran his attention down the—list of names; names of the children currently held as hostages. Eyes growing slightly wider in diameter, he skimmed right down to the end, read: Uchiha Sasuke. The hand on his arm squeezed in warning when Naruto felt himself jerk, an instinctive response to throw himself into the fray because Sasuke was out there.

"It's fortunate that we caught Mizuki," Ibiki told him, "He would have told them of the Hyuuga and Uchiha—if their family lines were revealed, it's doubtful that they will be released, even if we meet their demands."

It was also quite possible that the Stone had figured it out for themselves and had killed the children already, their bodies wrapped neatly into packages to be delivered to the Village of Stone for experimentation and study—it was a possibility Ibiki did not voice, perhaps out of mercy. He didn't have to; Naruto was growing starkly aware of the familiarity of the situation. The urgency, the initial rush of adrenaline, the professional dread and panic. He grimaced.

"Heh."

Ibiki raised an eyebrow.

"Just thinking how many times we've been through this before," Naruto quipped lightly. It was purposeful, this fake cheer, meant to bolster the morale in rookies, to reinforce determination in veterans. "So. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing," Ibiki said.

Naruto blinked. "What?"

"Nothing," Ibiki repeated, "You are to stay within the village walls until the situation's been resolved."

"Bullshit." His hands curled into fists. "That's bullshit!"

With a shake of his head, Ibiki released Naruto's arm at last, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. "We were to inform the parents and guardians of the children involved. It's requested that you do not do anything rash."

"Shove it. That's straight off the paper, Morino." He shook his head in accentuated disbelief and felt himself twitch, just once, in impatience and agitation. "Like they'd send you, in the middle of a goddamn emergency situation, to tell me that Sasuke got kidnapped? Give me a break!"

"They were orders. I'm just doing my job, Uzumaki."

"Cut the crap," Naruto snarled, baring his teeth, "Fuck formalities! Tell me what the fuck you want me to do! Or I'll go out there myself, orders or no orders!"

"Indeed." There was bleak satisfaction which underlined the words, completed by a set with the dark smirk that overtook Ibiki's features, and Naruto realized that this was probably what Ibiki had predicted and waited for. When Ibiki's right hand resurfaced from the depths of his pocket, there was something white and grinning attached to it. Naruto stared, mutely accepting the mask when Ibiki pushed it into his possession. "Know this, Uzumaki. If you leave these walls before this situation has been resolved with this mask, your ninja status will be reinstated as a Genin. And Hokage-sama is not willing to rebuke it a second time."

It wasn't that the old man wasn't going to; the old man couldn't. Not with a council set so vehemently on the prospect of using his lineage in their game of politics, despite the monster sealed within. Naruto drew his lower lip into his mouth and bit it once, drawing blood.

"Should you decide to leave on your own accord without the mask," Ibiki continued, "You will be arrested upon sight. If you flee, you will be labeled as a missing-nin."

You're too dangerous.

Naruto squeezed his eyes shut.

This mask was the guillotine order on his self-induced retirement, with emotional blackmail—Sasuke—as its ally. As frustrating as it was, it wasn't much of a choice—not really. He closed his eyes, attempting his hand at rational thought: he toyed with the knowledge of the existence of many, competent ninjas within the village with sets of skills that could be utilized to retrieve the hostages verses his emotions: the simple, single word of Sasuke entailed. Naruto, by nature, preferred to follow his gut than any roundabout thoughts crafted by his mind; this really wasn't much of a choice.

Comprehension, coupled with bitter resolution, was a terrible, terrible thing.

"Back-up will be sent in half an hour," Ibiki told him. Naruto opened his eyes as Ibiki turned his head back towards the memorial stone. "It is preferable if you finished things up before then."

Naruto snorted as he hefted the mask upwards towards his face, swallowing thickly as he squinted through the narrow eye-slits. "Ten minutes. Five minutes of travel time."

"Don't underestimate them," Ibiki warned.

Making a dismissive gesture, he shrugged. "I'm not. See you later, Ibiki-san."

Ibiki did not answer, not for a solid minute. Naruto had been half-way through a fidget, and had steeled his resolve to ignore Ibiki's lack of an answer and hurry along to the mission location to finish this business—spilling some blood, cutting through flesh; the usual. Finally, before Naruto could flick himself into the wind, Ibiki drew up a hand with a single kunai dangling from his index finger.

"You'll need this."

Oh yeah. Naruto accepted the weapon almost sheepishly; he had traded in his pouch of weapons when he had retired ten years ago. Killing people was notably harder, though not impossible, without something sharp and metallic added to his person.

"Don't die, Naruto."

Surprised, Naruto lifted his head, met Ibiki's gaze through the mask, and smiled. Trusting his expression to be conveyed through his eyes, Naruto did a mock-salute, molded his chakra (it had been so long), and vanished, leaving mere words in his wake: "Got it."

It had been Chouji that had made the first kill out of their dwindled number of eight, driving a kunai right into the jugular.

The guard had only managed a half-gurgle before he had fallen forward, his eyes wide open in shock, lips parted in a voiceless scream. Shikamaru had been the one who had acted next, darting forward to catch the body to lay it soundlessly against the ground. And he had remained like that, kneeled before the body with shaking arms while Chouji had emptied the contents of his impressive lunch in a distant corner.

Sasuke reminded himself to breathe.

Behind him, various, stifled noises of shock were thrown into the wind.

"What the fuck..." Kiba whispered.

Sakura's voice was but a muffled sob, synchronized with the faint gasp Hinata had released when the spell of moment had broken.

Placing a hand over his mouth, Sasuke reminded himself of his lineage, of his ancestry, of his fate as avenger—as the to-be murderer of the murderer of his people—that had been decided for him since the age of seven. The bile, in response to his thoughts, thankfully remained in the confines of his stomach. Sasuke gritted his teeth, swallowed thickly, and allowed himself to look away from the body as Shikamaru closed the eyes with clumsy, panicked fingers.

"Chouji?" Shikamaru croaked.

"I'm okay," Chouji answered, wiping aside a drool of vomit. He shook his head, stumbled a few steps before he collapsed back onto his rear, an arm's length away from where Shikamaru remained kneeling. "What about you, Shikamaru...?"

"Me too," Shikamaru said, leaning back away from the corpse. He supported the rest of his weight with positioned arms behind him to leverage and keep him stable in his seated position as he evened out his breathing, one, two. "Okay."

"That was unexpected," Shino murmured.

"You think?" Kiba snapped, his arms tightening around Akamaru as the pup whined out a low, pitiful whimper, nuzzling into the chest of his master. "Shit, Shikamaru, what the hell—"

"We don't have a lot of time," Shikamaru cut in, "The guards change every twenty minutes. Listen to me closely, all right?"

Apparently not patient enough to wait for the nods he had elicited, Shikamaru turned his attention to Hinata, who jumped, startled, as he addressed her, "Hinata."

"Y-yes?" she squeaked.

"Can you get a quick estimate on how many guys we're dealing with?" Shikamaru made a vague motion with a hand as he slouched forward into a more comfortable position. "As accurate as possible. But make it fast; we don't want to alert them."

"I... I'll try," she murmured. Sasuke tensed as the soft signature of the Byakugan flared briefly into life, only to blink out on the next beat. He watched as Hinata draw in a breath before she gave her answer, "Six... in total. One of them... he's leaving to... to scout, I think."

"Thanks," Shikamaru nodded, "Well, at least we outnumber them."

"What the hell is going on?" Kiba demanded.

"I'm getting there," Shikamaru said irritably, "Jeez, so pushy. Alright..."

Shikamaru's plan was simple, almost elegant. It was a competent, impressive plan that took all possible options from the narrow range of actions that the situation barely allowed; it was decent, acceptable, borderline good. That is, if the blaring but hadn't stuck to the end of the explanation like a misplaced kunai. They had all been drawn them all forward towards Shikamaru's voice, anxious to hear the conclusion of the instructions they were all tucking away into the recess of their memory, when Shikamaru just—stopped.

When the boy said no more, Sasuke leaned back to properly digest the words, and filled in the silence with his thoughts.

Chance. A large majority of the plan was based on chance, on luck; simply put, an organized hit and, when possible, run, just as Shikamaru and Chouji had demonstrated only a few minutes before. Lips thinning, Sasuke settled on his opinion on the whole matter: he didn't like it.

Kiba, apparently, had drawn the same conclusions. "I don't like it."

"What's there to like?" Shikamaru muttered, his voice stiff and intolerant to the echoed objections spread evenly across the eight. "There's nothing wrong with running away. We'll die if we stay here any longer."

"We'll die if we go out there!" Kiba snapped, "Are you out of your mind? Weren't you paying attention to what's been happening the past few hours?!"

A rhetorical question. Shikamaru tsked and glanced away, his eyes flickering as a physical manifestation of his cognitive process of remembrance was triggered by Kiba's tactless words. Sasuke closed his own, looking away from the monochrome visuals of the dark, inner architecture of the cot they had been confined to for the past few hours in the only way he could. Those hours—they had been—still were—trapped tightly in the center of what he could only label as terror. It was a type of terror he had felt only once before. He squeezed his eyelid closer to the skin, trying to close his eyes tighter.

Not now, he told himself. Not now.

Mind set and emotions brought back under control, Sasuke allowed himself to see again, regarding the seven others—eight, with himself included—that had managed to survive the systematic massacre the enemy ninjas had subjected them to. One by one, their numbers had shrunk, throats cut open right by that door until their (ex)classmate had drawn breath for the last time. It was only after a long, merciless death that the body had been hauled outside to be sent back to the village, a warning.

Sasuke knew a hopeless situation when he saw one. When he was in one. But he had no plans on dying, not now, not today, not ever; not until Itachi was dead and rotting.

And currently, to survive, Shikamaru's plan was all they had.

Setting his jaw, he untangled his arms, giving the rest of the remaining student population a flat look. "I don't feel like waiting until they decide to kill us."

"One in," Shikamaru said. He seemed to share a silent exhale with himself as he passed Sasuke a glance of gratitude; Sasuke twitched and didn't meet his eyes. Shikamaru didn't seem bothered. "Anybody e—"

"I'm in," Chouji said.

Shikamaru gave him a funny look. "Chouji. We're in by default."

"Oh." Chouji gave him a sheepish smile. "Just making sure."

A smirk twitching at the corner of his lips, Shikamaru swept across the remaining five with his eyes. "Well?"

"The probability of success is low," Shino said slowly. But he too, got to his feet. "However, it is not impossible."

"You too, man?" Kiba shook his head, and clicked his tongue in agitation. "What do you think, Akamaru?"

A low whine answered him.

"Yeah, I kinda figured." Shaking his head, Kiba flashed them all a grin. "Ah, what the hell. Not like we got anything else going for us, eh? Uchiha's right—for once. It's much better than waiting around to be killed. That would be such a lame way to die."

"I..." They turned to Hinata, her eyes turned determinedly towards a faraway corner even as she rose. She shuffled her feet, and finally looked up. "I... believe we can do it."

Shikamaru's expression eased easily into a satisfied smirk.

"No!" It was Sakura's voice, chapped and crumbling under the pre-symptoms of dehydration and unadulterated terror. "We should wait! We should wait until someone rescues us. They've got to be waiting for their chance, we should just—"

"If we wait," Sasuke murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "We'll die."

"No! Sa-Sasuke-kun... don't you see? If we resist, they'll kill us!" Sakura wailed, pressing a palm to her eye as she began the slow decent into tears. "They... they already killed so many of us... if we try to fight them, we'll get killed!"

"We will die either way," Shino said, turning his face away, "I'd prefer to die fighting."

"Me too," Chouji said earnestly.

Ears covered by her hands, Sakura proceeded to curl into herself where she remained seated, shaking her head fervently. To her credit, she was crying with only quiet hiccups as audio; not loud enough to alert the enemy outside. "Shut up," she whispered, "Shut up! I can't believe you guys are talking about dying so easily! If you die—"

Ino slapped her. "Oh, stop it!"

Sakura blinked through her tears, pressing a hand on her cheek. "Ino..."

"Sakura," Ino snapped. She slowly rose to her feet, eyes narrowing as she placed her hands on her hips, "You listen to me. If we stay, we'll die. If we go out there and do something about this, we might survive. We might even get away. Shikamaru's plan is decent, okay? You got some serious brains behind that big forehead of yours—why don't you use it?"

"I..." Sakura bit at her lip once more. "How can you be so sure?"

Hinata laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, standing firm even as Sakura underwent a full-body twitch. "Sakura-chan... we... we won't die. If we... protect each other..."

"We're all freaked out about this," Ino said, "And we'll freak out some more later. We got lucky and survived this far, but now we have to get out of here." She paused, and then laid a hand on Sakura's head, smoothing the pink locks back with comforting fingers. "We're all but ninjas now, you know."

"H-huh?"

"Today's Graduation Day," Ino murmured. The atmosphere dropped into a sudden, depressive lull as various versions of she's right and oh yeah was reflected in the minds of those still breathing. She released a soft exhale, and gave Sakura's head a final pat. "I know you would have passed. Your big forehead would have never allowed you to fail, you stupid girl. You're a real ninja now."

"We all are," Sasuke cut in. He fought down the slight flush that dared to tint the tips of his ears when all sets of eyes turned to him incredulously, and narrowed his at Kiba's widening grin. "And since we are, something like this would have happened to us eventually."

"Eventually," Shino agreed, "After a few more years of training, perhaps."

"Don't be such a downer, Shino," Kiba said, "Even the Uchiha bastard is giving us a talk."

Sasuke glared. Kiba stared right back, all teeth and cheer. Much to Sasuke's annoyance and chagrin, Shino seemed to ponder the point, followed by a slow nod in agreement. "Ah."

"Ah? Ah? That's it?" Kiba demanded.

With the barest twitch at the corner of his lips, Shino amended, "It is an honor to die for the village."

"Uh, not the best way to make us feel better, man."

Shikamaru raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. "Look, we're running out of time. So I'll be honest."

They quieted, all attentive to his words to come.

"I'm scared," Shikamaru said bluntly. Gauging their reactions, he went on, almost cautiously, "Until now, we were just classmates. You two," he pointed at Sakura and Ino, "are too loud. You hurt my ears. You too." The finger went briefly to Kiba, and then moved onwards to Shino. "You freak me out." To Hinata, "I don't really know you." Finally, to Sasuke, "I'm not sure if I've ever liked you."

Sasuke scowled.

"Except for Chouji, I found you all tiresome," Shikamaru finished. His expression sobered. "But right now, if I just go off with Chouji, I'll get killed. If I play for solo, I'll get killed. There's no if's about it. Same goes for all of you. I..." He tsked, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. The words he spoke next seemed rather painful to utter; Sasuke couldn't refute that claim, upon hearing them. "Right now, even if I might not like you, I need you guys."

"To watch your back," Sasuke said, his tone experimental, watching Shikamaru's expression sharply.

"Yeah, exactly," Shikamaru agreed, scratching the side of his neck, "These people are real ninjas, probably with experience that we won't see for another few years. We've just sort-of turned Genin—" Some faces broke into weak smiles at that, "—and we're already up against this sort of troublesome..." He trailed off, seemingly in search for the politically correct term to employ, before the endeavor was abandoned with a shake of his head. "Anyway, there's no guarantee that this will work. We might die."

"What else is new?" Kiba said sardonically, raising an eyebrow. Despite the simulated confidence, however, a notable shake colored his next few words as he ran a hand through his hair. "Hell, we know that, already."

"Being if we stay here, we'll be killed off like cattle," Ino finished smoothly. The corner of Shikamaru's eye ticked in unspoken exasperation, but he nodded stiffly in agreement. With a smirk, she waved it off. "It doesn't take a genius to know that, Shikamaru. I don't care. I'm still in."

"Didn't say you weren't," Shikamaru muttered irritably.

"We can make it," Hinata spoke up, without stutter. She flushed when the majority's attentions were on her. She gripped at her hands. "I... we'll be working together. If... if we work together, we'll..."

"We'll come out alive," Shino completed.

Hinata nodded.

But there it was—the flaw. It was only if they were lucky. It was only if this make-shift cell of ex-classmates, self-endowed Genins worked well enough to protect each other from the weapons of ninjas twice their skill would any of them survive. They had to follow Shikamaru's instructions to the dot, watch out for each other, work together. Sasuke closed his eyes briefly, feeling the edges of a migraine dig its fingers into his mind. He wasn't a team player. Trusting these children—you're a kid too, Sasuke—trusting that they would protect him, to keep him alive? This entire situation left a vile aftertaste under his tongue. Everything relied largely on that if.

A voice from his memories found that time appropriate to speak up—not this loner-thing again. Jeez. Listen, Sasuke...

"I won't die," Sasuke said. The determination wedged past the last of the fear and hopelessness, snapped his open, and his fists curled into fists. "I won't die here."

You can't do this alone.

"There are still things I need to do," he finished. Like killing his brother, avenging his clan, restoring his clan. Like going back to the apartment (back home), making sure the idiot did his chores. "I'm not going to die here."

Not the best of speeches, but the words had their effect.

Ino nodded firmly in agreement, a smirk spreading over her lips. "Damn straight!"

Murmured agreements rode through the group, stopping short at their eighth.

"You're all insane," Sakura whispered, shaking her head. But finally, finally, she was smiling, timid and fragile, but no longer hesitating. "But so am I, huh? I'm here, after all." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaned away from the wall and stood steadily on her own two feet. "Maybe this isn't so crazy."

"Watch my back," Kiba summarized, smirking at them all, "And I'll watch yours."

This was it, then.

Shikamaru gave the ultimatum. "Alright. You know what to do?" Nods, all around. Resolutions set in concrete. He smiled tiredly. "Good. Time's up."

When you're about to die, it is told that your life flashes by, skipping through the most important moments of your life, highlighting the people that you will miss, the people that will miss you once you're gone. It's a phenomenon across all countries, prejudiced against neither ninjas nor civilians, taking them all. Death was equity; it didn't matter if you had been a legend, or whether you had been the greatest of heroes or the vilest of villains—once you died, it was just that. You died, your life flashed, and your lungs inhaled one, last intake of oxygen before it all stopped.

What happens to you then? Some say you cease to exist, snatched from the living into a darkness that sent fear down the spines of many men and women. This type of fear, borne of that darkness, was a fear rivaled by nothing else in this world, or in the next. If there was a next.

When you're about to die, you hear voices. Time slows. Death stares you in the face. Your life flashes.

He hadn't been much of an exception.

The good things,

Sorry, Sasuke. Maybe next time.

Just between you and me, whenever your father's alone with me, all he talks about is you.

As expected, you are my child.

the terrible things,

Foolish little brother... if you want to kill me, then blame me. Hate me. And live on in shame.

and things he had found he could still enjoy, even in the face of the direction his life had taken;

Oi, Sasuke! You think this curry's still good?

Eh?! I'm doing the dishes again? No way!

I'm going out for a bit. Don't forget to eat, alright?

Listen, Sasuke... you can't do this alone.

there had been absolutely no omissions.

The events leading up to this moment were starkly vivid in his mind, a frame-by-frame retelling of his—and his classmates'—battles against the ninjas beyond the doors of the cot. Initially, the battle had been nothing more than a mere frenzy of flailing limbs and flying metal, driven solely by adrenaline and their wills to survive. They had all been just children, armed with but a standard pouch of weapons and unpolished aims. Kunais of uncountable numbers had been thrown, barrages of shurikens showered down upon the enemy; somewhere along the line, the lucky shots had turned into something more synchronized. Somewhere in the middle of the messy array of blood and sweat and battle, the group of classmates, of children, had morphed into an eight-man cell.

Sasuke wasn't sure how it had happened, just that it had. Organization had settled in. Teamwork had become like breathing. Their mismatched sets of skills had clicked together, had worked, complimenting each other's. More than once, he had felt a kunai slice through the air behind his unprotected back, driving away an enemy ninja that had been ready to punch a hole through his torso. More than a handful of times, he had caught sight of an opening in Shikamaru's (or Kiba's or Shino's or Ino's) formation that the enemy had been attempting to utilize, and paused briefly to flick his wrist to release shurikens to force the enemy back.

They hadn't been winning, but they hadn't been just pushed around either.

Still, he supposed it had only been a matter of time until one of them had slipped in such a way that couldn't be salvaged by a timely kunai. It had only been a matter of time until the enemy had snapped in irritation, going for overkill via some obscure doton jutsu that they yelled into the air. The only thing that had surprised him about the situation had been the fact that he had been the one that had slipped (the first to slip), his balance momentarily robbed by a sleek spray of mud, strategically placed.

His body had tensed as the jutsu tore through the ground, towards his body, deafening all cries of Sasuke! and Sasuke-kun! from his ears.

When you're about to die, your life flashed before your eyes. Sasuke's had been in the last quarter of that flash, almost at the finish line when an entirely different flash flickered into view. A yellow light—the color strangely resembled the sun (burning brightly, in all its glory) that he had seen to be hanging in the day after of the extinction of his clan. The arms that wrapped around him to whisk him away felt suspiciously like the ones he had felt when he had been a brat, freshly traumatized, sheltering him from the scent of the blood that had thickly tainted the walls.

Death had been one step too late; that yellow flash had gotten to him first.

"Shit!" someone was yelling; it didn't sound like any of the children.

"Yellow Flash!" someone else screamed.

He ignored them both.

The world fell away to polychromatic chaos as he flicked himself through the air, materializing, vanishing, killing. It was an easy enough process, one that the memory ingrained into his muscles was able to support even with a distinct lack of directions from the consciousness. Ibiki's kunai slid past the third throat, and lodged itself in the fourth. He surrendered himself to the winds when he heard a startled scream to the right, flashing in between the enemy ninja and Haruno Sakura, delivering a swift kick to the abdomen of the former. Plucking the kunai and shurikens from the girl's trembling fingers, he hurled the shurikens to position the Stone ninja into his line of movement and yanked his armed hand across the throat.

Silence.

One more left.

He made it a point to stroll, to walk, to the last of the Stone (Chuunin, he guessed), the kunai spinning lazily, slowly, around his index finger.

"You're supposed to be dead!" the Stone ninja suddenly blurted, taking desperate, backward steps. "We heard the story all the way up at our village, with you fighting the Nine-Tails, and... the Leaf's Yellow Flash was supposed to be dead!"

The kunai stopped spinning, the hilt meeting his palm with practiced precision. He lifted a finger to level it above his mouth over the mask, and the babbling stopped obediently.

"Yeah," he agreed at last, voice cutting through the silence, "He died, twelve years ago."

"No, you're right here! That information was a farce—"

"No," he snapped, with emotion raising the volume of his voice up a few notches. "He's dead."

The Stone Chuunin quieted, watching him with look of recognizable acquiescence as he steeled himself to ask, "What are you?"

He thought about maintaining his silence. He thought about it, decided against it, because what the hell—this bastard was going to die anyway. "They've referred to me as the Fourth's Legacy before."

"Legacy... huh?" the Chuunin said, lips turning upwards into a humorless smile, "Heh, this would have been some information to have reported back with. Even more valuable than that scroll, maybe."

"Maybe," he shrugged, "But you're not going to."

"I won't run. I'm not stupid. There isn't anyone in this world that can get away from you," the Chuunin said, an expression of dark amusement crossing his features. He held his head up high and met the quiet, churning killing intent within the violet eyes hidden partially behind the mask. "About the children... it was orders."

The cold fury in his belly lessened, weakened and compressed by understanding.

It was orders.

He knew how that felt.

When the deed was done, six bodies lay on the ground, some dead, others in the process of dying. He closed his eyes as he threw the kunai into the dirt, impaling it deep into the sediment.

Behind him, Inuzuka Kiba whispered an awed, "Fuck."

Naruto stood still and victorious over the fallen bodies of the Stone ninjas, possessing little desire (or the energy) to answer the inquiring looks pressed against his back. He lifted his face up towards the darkened sky, and breathed in deep. It was only after the low buzz of excitement lowered itself an octave, back to baseline, that he allowed himself to be released from the effects of adrenaline, which had kept his muscles taught and instincts sharp.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

He hated the smell of blood.

Scrunching his nose, he finally turned to look at each of the children—sans Sasuke, whose form he carefully avoided looking at—and murmured, "Is anyone hurt?"

The only one with a pressing injury was Nara Shikamaru, who wore a gash on his right leg, from ankle to knee. He was leaning against Akimichi Chouji, regarding Naruto with a splintered expression of obvious relief and gratitude. Everyone else had only nasty sets of bruises and an array of cuts to worry about; a rather impressive feat from a group of Academy students placed against a group of Chuunins from the Stone during a time of peace. The girls were seated (huddled) together some distance away, while Aburame Shino stood by the Inuzuka's seated form, who was in turn tending to some of the injuries his puppy sidekick had acquired sometime during the battle.

Finally, someone—the Nara—spoke. "Thank you."

Naruto shook his head. "Back-up will be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Back up for what?" Inuzuka snorted, his eyes sweeping across the quieted battlefield. "Jeez, man. You... you creamed them. Why didn't they send you from the beginning?"

A twitch of guilt stirred within his chest. Naruto wished the children could see his half-smile—it relayed his feelings on the matter with a type of ease that could not be replicated via words. He tried anyway. "I'm... sort of a last line of defense."

"Makes sense," Nara muttered.

"Are you okay, Shikamaru?" Akimichi asked.

"Should've been a front line of defense, fuck," Inzuka muttered. "Your paw okay now, Akamaru?"

Categorizing them all as wounded and traumatized but alive (will survive the journey back), he finally turned his attention to Sasuke.

The boy in question was using a tree to support himself, though still exactly where Naruto had left him, a hand braced against the bark with his head half-bowed in obvious display of exhaustion. His otherwise handsome features were twisted by the sour scowl he wore when he realized that he was under scrutiny, not at all pleased by something or another. Naruto would ask him later. But for now, he had to play the role dictated by the mask he wore.

"Can you walk?"

What he really wanted to ask was are you alright? Are you hurt? You idiot, why the hell did you freeze?! He forced a stopper on those thoughts, promising himself the right to scold Sasuke when they reached the village, back to safety, when Naruto was himself again. Even with those thoughts to quell the worst of the urges—to just rip off his mask and yank Sasuke into arms to make sure the boy was real, wasn't a pathetic figment of his imagination, and the real one was actually—no. No. Naruto gave into the impulse to shake his head, accepting Sasuke's resultant narrowing of eyes as a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of clearing his mind.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I'm fine," Sasuke said at last. His brows furrowed, thoughts warring across his expression, and looked up to utter the first syllable of Naruto's name before Naruto moved on, straightening his back to once more address the crowd. The children halted their low mumbles, quieting to observe him with subdued curiosity.

"We could wait for the back-up," he told them, "Or we can start walking back to the village."

There was a thoughtful silence before Inuzuka broke it with his mutter. "Shit, man. The sooner we get home, the better."

Slow agreement rumbled through the rest of them; Naruto nodded, having expected this, and approached the Nara and the Akimichi. Swooping down, he pulled his arm underneath the Nara boy's knees—careful not to jostle the damaged one—and held him up, bridal-style. Nara seemed stunned for a moment before his face took on a faint blush of mortification and turned his head away with a grumble.

"Sorry," Naruto said, without meaning it.

Nara narrowed his eyes at him, easily reading the amusement in his voice.

Akimichi just grinned. "Faster the better. Right, Shikamaru?"

"Whatever," Nara said with a sigh, "Today's been such a drag. I guess not having to walk is a good thing."

Not at all willing to allow the impending giggling to explode in the light of the Nara's new predicament, Naruto quickly took those words as consent, and began walking towards the path buried in between the trees, one that will lead them back to the village. Behind him, a flurry of movement ensued as the children scrambled up to follow him home.

Shikamaru looked like he was feeling much better, Sasuke mused dully with minimum interest. The boy lifted a hand in lazy greeting as he approached their group with languid steps, supported, once more, by Chouji.

There were marked improvements on the color of the face; the tint a little healthier than the deathly pale that Shikamaru had been sporting by the time they had reached the village. The bleeding had been almost uncontrollable, barely stopped by a few well-placed hits on the pressure points of his leg applied by Hinata midway. Their rescuer, the lone ANBU, had marched them into an unforgiving pace when Shikamaru had finally lost consciousness in his arms. None of them had been happy about it at the time, but he supposed seeing Shikamaru's healthier-looking, living face eased away the irritation. Somewhat.

Sasuke gave Shikamaru a last look-over, and turned away with a low grunt.

"Hey man," Kiba grinned, "Fixed up already?"

Shikamaru yawned. "Sort of."

"They wanted him to stay at the hospital for the night," Chouji expanded. He shook his head. "But Hokage-sama summoned all of us, so..."

"What a pain," Shikamaru groaned. "I just wanted to go home and sleep."

By the shared expressions of sour exhaustion and aches, Sasuke deemed that statement to be mutual. They all wanted to go home, to nurse their cuts and bruises in a place of safety. The adrenaline hadn't quite released any of them; Kiba's hands were twitching in odd little intervals, Shino looked more rigid than usual, and Sakura was sitting up straighter, seemingly attentive, even when there was no need. Sasuke frowned; when had he begun to read his classmates' movements so easily?

"What do you think Hokage-sama wants us here for?" Ino was asking.

"Maybe he wants to check up on us?" Sakura offered.

"Hmph!" Ino snorted, "If he's so worried about us, he should have let us go home!"

"He probably wants us to explain what happened," Shikamaru said lazily. He nodded in thanks when Sakura inched over to give him room to sit at the edge of the bench when he had finally finished crossing the full length of the hallway. "How troublesome."

"Is it that important?" Kiba asked, an eyebrow rising, "I mean, that ANBU can explain everything, can't he?"

"It was a national emergency," Shikamaru answered. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Hokage-sama needs all the details he can get."

"I'd understand if Shikamaru was called," Chouji said between bites of his potato chips—where had he gotten that? Sasuke felt his stomach rouse in interest as the sound of chomping filled his ears. "But all of us?"

"Bastard, give me some!" Kiba demanded.

"Sure." Chouji held the bag out. "Just don't take the last one."

In response to Chouji's question, Ino grumbled out, "We'll find out soon, I guess."

And it had been in that lulling, comforting silence, that the door to the Hokage's door opened, releasing a string of Jounins—the back-up that the ANBU had spoken about—filtering out from the office with varying expressions of awe and amusement.

Upon entering the office, they stood, arranged in a horizontal line before the Hokage. The man looked older than usual, his pipe emitting soft smoke of a peculiar scent that Sasuke had long-since categorized, simply, as part of the Third's distinguishing characteristics. Unclasping his hands from behind his back, the Hokage lifted an aged hand to the pipe to lift it away from his lips.

"I am sorry," was how the Hokage began, much to the surprise of eight, "You have experienced something terrible tonight. You are the only ones who survived."

No one spoke. No one had to.

The Hokage went on. "However, I must also express my disappointment in you all."

Sasuke frowned. He caught sight of Kiba opening his mouth before it snapped closed under the baleful stare of the Hokage. Ino, standing to his left, tensed.

"You could have died, going out to fight Chuunins without realizing their strengths, weaknesses, or if even when your support would be arriving. Luckily for all of you, that they—he—did. Just on time, I was told." Sasuke flushed a tad under the Hokage's stare, and stared stubbornly beyond the man at the window. "I expected you to have better judgments than this. You are mere students. The chances of your victory were slim, if it existed at all."

Surprisingly, it was Hinata that broke the rhythm of the Hokage's reprimand. "But... but Hokage-sama, we..."

"Shush," the Third said sternly, though his voice was not overly unkind. "I know. Your lives were in danger. It was a logical conclusion that another one of you might have been killed soon. But because of your actions, one of you were even forced to kill." A pause. "Who was it?"

"I—" Chouji began.

"I did," Shikamaru broke in. He gave a quick glance at Chouji, and the boy fell into a sullen silence.

The Hokage shook his head. "A lucky break, to be sure."

"Lucky?!" Kiba exploded at last, "It sure didn't look like luck from where I was sitting! Chou—er, Shikamaru was great—"

"There is nothing great," the Hokage murmured, "about having to kill."

Kiba flinched and fell back into silence.

"You must learn to pick your battles, to continue to take care of your teammates." The wording was odd. Sasuke looked up to the sight of the Hokage's frail smile, one that was tinted with no small amount of pride. "But no matter your lapses in judgments tonight, you are alive. I was told that your teamwork had been something worth applauding, and that is why you have all been promoted to the status of Genin."

"We were what?" Ino blurted.

The Hokage stepped aside to reveal the forehead protectors on his desk, arranged in two rows of four. He placed the pipe back in between his lips, and his smile stretched into something real, something more solid. "You are all Genins. True Genins. Did you know that, upon Academy graduation, you are to be placed in three-man cells with a Jounin Instructor?" All nodded. The Hokage went on, "However, graduation only makes you eligible to the status of Genin."

"So there was going to be an extra test?" Sakura asked, incredulous. "Would... would the Instructors have failed some of us...?"

"More than some of you," the Hokage chuckled, "Sixty-six percent of you would have failed."

"What?!" Kiba exclaimed.

"They are tests to test you to see if you have fully grasped the most important aspect of being a Genin," was the continued explanation; the Hokage seemed to have grown a quick immunity to the volume and intensity of Kiba's shouts. "Can any of you tell me what that might be, with your experiences kept in mind?"

"Teamwork." The word left his mouth on its own accord, faster and more confidently spoken than anybody else. Sasuke wanted to know why exactly that everyone seemed to stare at him with a doubled amount of intensity whenever he spoke tonight; he had said more than Shino, and the content of his words were never ridiculous. He glared at them all, and stubbornly went on. "We all knew fighting alone would get us killed."

Grins broke out on the faces of the remaining seven, and the rest filled in.

"We watched each other's back."

"Kept each other alive."

It didn't matter who spoke those words; those contents were of things they all understood, now with ease.

The Hokage gave Sasuke a lasting stare before he nodded. "If you understand, then there is nothing left for me to say. Come. These forehead protectors belong to you."

"You first, Shikamaru," Ino said. She grinned. "You and Chouji."

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. When no one stepped in to argue Ino's declaration, he sighed, and with a mutter under his breath, he moved forward with the Chouji's aid. He reached out, accepted the forehead protector that the Hokage handed him, only to immediately pass it onto Chouji. The words were left unsaid as Shikamaru accepted the second forehead protector as his own, and the rest of them followed, with Sasuke at the end of the line.

"From this moment forward, you are all Genins of the Leaf. Wear your forehead protectors with pride," the Hokage announced, smiling at their pleased expressions. "Now, I will announce your three-man Genin teams. Team One—Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino, and Hyuuga Hinata."

"Yo, teammates," Kiba greeted, his grin all teeth, "Let's get along."

"Team Two—Yamanaka Ino, Nara Shikamaru, and Akimichi Chouji."

"You know, before all this, I thought you were just some lazy no-name guy," Ino declared at Shikamaru, "That's one good thing out of all this, huh? Now I know better."

"I still think you're too loud," Shikamaru deadpanned.

"Ino," the Hokage sighed, tiredly shaking his head, "Please do not injure Shikamaru any more than what he has already suffered. Now, finally, for Team Three..."

"One moment, Hokage-sama!" Sakura interrupted. "I... I know I'm with Sasuke-kun—" She gave off a giggle then, her eyes darting in Sasuke's general direction. Sasuke disregarded her attentions in favor of cursing the Hokage. Why, of all the seven, had he been stuck with Sakura? Wincing at his blatant disinterest, she trekked forward, "Um, but... wouldn't that only leave us with a team of two...?"

"Well," Ino whistled, "That'd be good for you, Sakura."

"Shut up, Ino!" Sakura placed both hands over her face, and emitted an embarrassed mumble that Sasuke didn't care enough to catch. He closed his eyes, also pointedly ignoring the pitied looked thrown his way from Kiba and Shikamaru, wondering where the kunoichi of passable skills had gone off and died to replace her with the usual Sakura from the Academy. She was going to hold him back—get them both killed—if she didn't sober up and face the situation as it were. It wasn't a game; hadn't she learned this from what she had experienced tonight? Definitely something worth mentioning whenever he got the chance, though preferably at a time when she wasn't busily emulating a banshee.

Oblivious to Sasuke's misery, the Hokage chuckled, and exhaled an impressive lungful of smoke. "Sakura. You do not need to worry. It will be a three-man team."

Sasuke thanked him silently as Sakura's face fell.

"May I go on?" The Hokage lifted an eyebrow to accentuate his question as he gazed at Sakura, who answered with a blush and nod. "Then. For the final team, Team Three—Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura—"

The door swung open, and a man—their lone ANBU, the one that slit six throats within five minutes with only two kunais and several shurikens as his entire artillery—walked into the office. Everyone turned to stare at the man in morbid curiosity as a hand reached up to remove the mask in perfect harmony with the Hokage's pace and words. "—and Uzumaki Naruto."

Naruto held the mask in one hand, and lifted the other in greeting. He grinned. "Yo."

Sasuke's jaw slackened in shock.

Obvious changes from the canon verse (namely Ino's lack of interest in Sasuke & her undamaged friendship with Sakura so far) will all be explained in due time. All comments, constructive criticism, and questions welcomed.

Thanks for reading!