Seraphic Cemetery

Title: Seraphic Cemetery

Author: tir-synni

Disclaimer: Do we need to go over the definition of fanfiction again?

Main Pairings: ItaNaru, SasuNaru

Plop . . . plop . . . plop. . . .

Uzumaki Naruto stirred weakly, the world oddly distorted around him. The first thing that came into focus was his hands. Uninterested, he stared at them. They splayed on the cold cement like an animal’s paws, small knuckles sporadically convulsing. He could see the unforgiving grey beneath his battered hands, but it was like looking through another’s eyes, through shattered crystal, through still water. The unmoving cement shivered under his touch.

Plop . . . plop . . . plop. . . .

Such a familiar sound. All of this seemed familiar, yet the memory stayed stubbornly, mockingly out of reach. It was something important, he knew. His mind defied his drugged pleas for recollection.

Plop . . . plop . . . plop. . . .

The liquid noise reverberated through Naruto’s bones. His senses screamed at him as if the sound was Death’s footsteps rather than liquid. His nerves howled at him, his heart ached within him, yet he remained oddly empty and distant. As if moving through gel, Naruto raised his head.

Plop . . . plop . . . plop. . . .

Uchiha Sasuke’s hunched form greeted him, and something shattered within Naruto, even as hollow, victorious words tore from him without his consent. “You did it, Sasuke! You did—“

Plop . . . plop . . . plop. . . .

Dead red eyes met blue; cold lips moved soundlessly. Naruto simply sat there. Feeling separated from the world, he watched blood steam down Sasuke’s slender form. Something inside him wept at the contrast of bright red against white, white skin. Something else was screaming at him, yelling something important. Everything else was numb.

Pl . . . op . . . pl . . . op. . . .

Sasuke seemed to slip backwards, falling, falling, and Naruto was silently, motionlessly howling incoherent words at the other boy. He thought his arms were raised to catch the boy—

Plop . . . plop. . . .

the sound of weeping

Plop . . . plop. . . .

a soft plea

Plop . . . plop. . . .

a deadly roar

Plop . . . plop. . . .

And then Haku’s dead, blank eyes were staring contently into his own. Blackening blood dribbled down a grey face. Blue lips curved into a smile, splashing more blood onto the icy bridge.

Plop! Plop!

“I am happy—“

Plop! Plop.

“Because I died—“

Plop!

“Protecting my precious person—“

Plop.

“Even if—“

Plop. . . .

“I am nothing but a tool to him.”

Silence.

And Naruto could only scream.

And still screaming, Naruto threw himself backwards, away from the blood and eyes and gentle voice. Something grabbed his legs, and panting and shuddering and sobbing, Naruto kicked it off. Something fell in his face, and with a cry, he threw it aside. Only when his walrus cap hit the wall did Naruto realize he was in bed.

“A dream,” Naruto whispered, shaking. “Just a stupid dream.”

Sasuke’s lifeless eyes and Haku’s dead mouth whispering chilled Naruto to the bone, and he quickly covered his face. “Just a dream!” he snapped harshly. “Don’t be such a coward!”

Abruptly, he remembered his beloved walrus cap. The dream vanished from his mind. “Ari!” he yelped, diving across the room. Desperately, he cuddled the walrus cap. “I’m so sorry! I’ll never do it again!”

The walrus cap stared unblinking at him.

With one last apologetic pat, Naruto rested the walrus cap on the bed. Absently, he stepped over the covers strewn on the floor. He’d pick them up later. Every morning they ended up there. No reason for today to be different.

Humming carelessly to himself, Naruto flipped through his sparse closet, eventually pulling out an older copy of his orange attire. No missions today, so no reason to don his chuunin uniform. The vivid orange cheered him up, and his humming rose a notch. While he dressed, the sixteen year old chuunin imagined himself easily beating Sasuke in their regular morning sparring match. Sometimes, Master Kakashi watched them spar, claiming he was keeping an eye on his old students. Naruto slipped various small weapons into his baggy clothes, seeing himself standing over a battered Sasuke, with Master Kakashi applauding and congratulating him. Grinning, Naruto bounced out of the bedroom.

Ramen for breakfast, beating Sasuke, and Master Iruka buying me lunch, Naruto thought contently, today’s going to be—

Naruto paused, one foot dangling over the kitchen floor, chin falling artlessly to his chest, his eyes bulging so bright blue dominated his face. His stunned senses took in the scene in flashes:

His cabinets were ajar.

His ramen packets from the night before were swept off the table into the garbage.

His plants needed watering.

Uchiha Itachi was leaning against the counter.

Naruto blinked. Then for good measure, Naruto blinked again. Yep. Uchiha Itachi was still leaning against the counter. An indignant part of his mind noticed how casually the S-class criminal had placed his straw hat on the counter and his idiotic cloak on one of Naruto’s chairs. Another part idly noticed that Sasuke looked more and more like his brother every day.

Heavy lidded eyes drifted over Naruto’s gawking features. “Good morning,” Itachi said courteously.

“Good morning,” Naruto replied automatically, then roughly shook his head and glared at Itachi. “What the hell are you doing in my home?! You’re a killer! A criminal! Get out!” An oddly familiar coldness chilled him, and trembling fingers gripped the kunai hidden in his clothes. Would he be able to pull them out before Itachi reached him? As far as he had progressed in the past four years, Naruto knew Itachi had progressed as well. He doubted he even had time to call on the red chakra. “Where’s the sharkface? You serve the Ata . . . Ana . . . them, don’t you? Get out!”

Impassive as ever, Itachi calmly swept a lock of black hair out of his face. Crimson eyes casually swept the room. Naruto’s heart pounded in his chest. One ambitious enough to seek the power of a demon, ruthless enough to torture his own brother, distant enough not to flinch at the stench of his family’s blood on his hands. Naruto clenched his teeth. He feared few beings, but he feared Itachi.

I am a chuunin of Konoha! Naruto snarled. No matter what happens, I won’t allow—

“The Akatsuki,” Itachi commented softly, “do not know I am here. I am alone.”

Before Naruto could shout his disbelief, Itachi continued idly, “Is all you have in this house ramen and milk? How . . . bland.”

All fear flew from Naruto’s mind, just like the implications of that statement flew over his head. “Bland?!” he howled. “How can you call ramen bland?! And milk is so nutritious!” The fact that he was snapping at the deadliest criminal ever to come from Konoha escaped Naruto as he huffed and crossed his arms, releasing his kunai. “Bland! Your whole family is stupid,” he continued, conveniently forgetting that Itachi had wiped them all out. By the raising of a sleek black eyebrow, Itachi hadn’t forgotten, but the indignant shinobi didn’t notice.

“Perhaps we simply realize how few benefits ramen has,” Itachi drawled. “Not enough to keep a pantry full of them.”

Naruto again missed the implication that Itachi had searched his home. There was only one way to answer a challenge to the greatness that was ramen. “I’ll make you some!” Naruto offered. “Even Sasuke warmed up to ramen after Master Iruka bought him some.” Both ebony eyebrows raised this time, but the energetic blond didn’t notice, already walking up to the cabinet. “I’ll be you’ve never had a real good taste of ramen. All your family eats is just junk and onigiri. I bet you even like vegetables!” Naruto’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought of the hated food; even after years of trying, Iruka could not get him to eat carrots. Itachi’s eyes followed the small movement, his lips quirking slightly. Pulling out two packets of ramen, Naruto didn’t notice. “Usually, I eat cup ramen, but today is special.”

Still rambling contently, Naruto pulled out a pot, filled it with water, and slipped it onto the stove. Noticing Itachi still sprawled against the counter, he scowled. Master Iruka always had his guests sit and always told him to keep an eye on his guests’ comforts. Master Iruka would yell at him if he saw his manners now.

“Sit! Sit!” Naruto snapped, his arm waving at the table like a frightened sparrow’s wing. “I’ll get you some ramen and milk. Just sit!” Grumbling to himself about uncooperative guests, Naruto turned back to the ramen.

Behind him, Itachi slowly blinked. He eased himself away from the counter and slid into the seat, for the first time his eyes fully open and focused on Naruto. If the young chuunin took any satisfaction from ordering an S-class criminal around, it did not show in his resolute movements. Only the ramen (and the memory of Master Iruka’s infamous lectures) existed at the moment.

After the water began to boil and Naruto had safely deposited the ramen into the pot, the sunshine ninja turned back to his “guest”. “Milk’s the best thing for a ninja to drink,” Naruto confided, getting two glasses from the cabinet. “That’s what Master Iruka always tells me, so I always drink it. It tastes good, too. Not as good as ramen but—“

Mouth going a mile a minute, he poured Itachi a glass of milk first, placing it in front of the Uchiha before pouring himself some. That task completed, he returned to the stove, humming an upbeat tune to himself. This was his first real time with a guest, and he thought he was doing well. Master Iruka didn’t count as a guest, and no one else ever visited his small home, even his former teammates. Now he had a real guest!

For a long time, Itachi stared at the milk in front of him. He blinked at the milk, as if expecting answers. The white liquid remained steady in the tall glass.

Abruptly, a sloshing bowl was shoved in his face. Naruto flashed the impassive killer a proud smile. “Here you go,” Naruto chirped. “I bet you’ll like it!” The blond plopped in the chair across from the Uchiha, his own ramen and milk in front of him. A pout marred his whiskered face when he saw Itachi’s untouched meal. “Eat! Eat!” he coaxed. Naruto waited until the brunet reached for his chopsticks before noisily diving into his own food.

If Itachi blinked any more, his eyelids would have fallen off. He ate slowly, in sharp contrast to Naruto’s almost violent eating.

“Quite odd,” Itachi murmured after several bites, “to be eating ramen for breakfast. I thought it was more of a lunch or dinner food.”

Naruto paused in his scarfing to glare at Itachi. Didn’t he realize he was talking to the guy who had cup ramen as a midnight snack? “Like you could do any better,” he retorted. “I bet you eat little kids for breakfast or somethin’.”

Master Iruka, the old hag, and the pervet had all tried. None of them could get Naruto to watch his mouth when he didn’t feel like it.

After another languid bite—Aren’t ninja supposed to be fast? Naruto wondered. This guy eats so slow!—Itachi looked up again. “A challenge,” he responded calmly. “All right.” Then to Naruto consternation, he resumed eating. Before Naruto could snap at him again, the alluring scent rising from table reminded him of what was truly important at the moment: ramen.

With one last noisy slurp, Naruto finished his ramen and reached for his milk. His eyes bulged again. “Holy Hokage!” he yelped. “You’re done?!”

Gracefully, Itachi replaced his chopsticks. The liquid remained still in the steaming bowl, no noodles marring the spicy fluid. “Yes. It that a problem?”

Naruto gaped before shaking his head thoughtfully. “This world is an odd, odd place,” he muttered to himself, reaching for Itachi’s empty bowl rather than his glass of milk. He grabbed his own bowl, too, and rose. “Boys who dress like girls, Sasuke, Kakashi not starving to death with his mask on, Sasuke, slowpokes eating as quickly as me, Sasuke—“

Still grumbling, Naruto placed the two bowls on the counter before turning around. “Hey—“ he began, then froze. Only two glasses greeted him. “H-huh?”

No answer.

Naruto slowly, quietly leaned against the counter and stared at the empty kitchen. He tightened his lips in thought for a moment.

“I just ate breakfast with Uchiha Itachi,” Naruto mused aloud, “an S-class criminal who murdered his own family, tried to drive Sasuke insane, and wants the nine tails fox demon.” In one of the most graceful moves of his life, Naruto sank to the floor.

“Holy fuck,” Naruto managed faintly. “The hag’s going to kill me.”