Wouldn't You Like To Know

Oh dear gods, people, please forgive me! Sasuke is a LOT harder to write than I thought he'd be (though initially, he was rather simple). I think we're having debates about how he wants to be written versus how I actually take his dictation. It's a damn good thing that he isn't actually over my shoulder, or I think my ass would have been handed to me about twenty sentences in.

Once again, I do not own Naruto, but he sure does give the nicest mental images when I'm zoning out.


***||***

There were times and places in the world that did not mind (and even actively encouraged) human stupidity. Nepotism being the prominent force that it was, people who had the least useful abilities (and sometimes no abilities at all) still got jobs more-qualified people should have occupied, doue to the long-held belief/fact that it paid to have friends and family in high places. Somewhat fortunately, such modes of advancement did not stay in power for overly long periods of time.

Stupidity was making a comeback.

***||***

Despite it being entirely possible to spend most of one’s time in broody self-absorption, it was not possible to go for long periods of time without eating, and even the sole Uchiha was immune to his body’s demands for sustenance.

Considering that it is best to avoid tempting fate, I should probably go get something to eat before my body starts consuming itself.

That having been decided, he went to his kitchen to inspect the offerings his refrigerator had deigned preserve for him, and found that he must have angered the protectors of the benevolent coldbox, because aside from some considerably rotted cheese, a few liters of juice and a half-eaten onigiri (was I sleep-walking or eathing one night? I don’t remember opening that...), there was nothing in there that even remotely tempted his appetite.

A restaurant it is, then. He immediately decided against going to Ichiraku, as he didn’t feel like running into people he knew at the moment. During his inner debate, he mechanically dressed himself in what he had been wearing earlier.

Reaching his door, he paused, thinking of something. It would be better if I just went on a restocking trip. The list on the refrigerator can’t be denied forever, and the sooner I get this over with, the better. He went to his fridge to retrieve the list, strode back to the door, put on his shoes, and exited his home, locking hid door behind him.

He headed for the nearest general goods store. He found the prices to be a tad bit on the expensive side, though the retired jounin who ran the store compensated by having things the daily marketplace did not stock. After nodding a greeting to the owner, he took a cart and pulled the list out of his pocket.

...both sides are filled on this paper. I must have really been putting this trip off...

When all is said and done, despite the freedoms associated with living alone, no one can claim in truth that he or she enjoys the mundane necessity of refilling the cupboards and larder. The natural response to a dislike is to avoid doing it for as long as humanely possible. In this area of life that shinobi and civilians share, the shinobi have a distinct advantage over the “normal” person in that he or she can comfortably carry twice what a non-ninja could without strain (though for taijutsu specialists, the amount he or she can carry is twice again or more that of the basic ninja). When one is shopping alone, this ability is a major advantage...except for the inevitable side effects.

Damn. I’m going to get carry-handle marks all over my arms, and they take forever to go away...I’d rather have bruises.

Checking to make sure no one was around, the Uchiha sighed. The damn cart’s almost full, and I’m only two thirds done getting all the stuff I need--

“Hey, Yuki-chan! How are you? You look like you’re stuck in a genjutsu!”
“I probably am, Kari-chan, and I don’t want to get out of it!”
“Oh, oh...I’ve seen that look...you saw Uzumaki-kun today, didn’t you?”

Naruto? Despite himself, Sasuke edged closer to the end of the aisle, which was where the voices were coming from. Not too close, or they’ll see me--

“I sure did!” A gusty sigh. “Man, did I ever...”
“What, girl?! Spill!”
“He was...sunbathing!” Girly squeal.

Dear gods, tell me he wasn’t out there naked--

“Was he naked? WAS HE?!”

Okay, that kind of enthusiasm for hearing something secondhand is more than a little frightening...

Disappointed grumble. “No, but he was wearing this absolutely miniscule pair of tight green underthings...”
“Mmm, green and gold...”

With the stealth that only a highly trained ninja possessed, he moved away from the conversation, taking care to start making noise when he reached the opposite end of the aisle. Taking a quick look at his cart, he decided against getting a few of the things on his list in favor of paying and then beating a hasty retreat from the store, away from the crazed females that, for once, were not after him.

Paying no attention to the marks on his arms that he had previously been grouching about (if only in his mind), Sasuke unceremoniously dropped his bags onto his kitchen table and went about the business of putting the things in their proper places. His mind was elsewhere.

The dobe...has his own fanclub? Unasked-for visions of Naruto wearing the aforementioned shorts in various poses of debauched glory paraded themselves in front of his mind’s eye. He cursed out loud, damning his ancestors for giving him the Sharingan that made the mental pictures so unnecessarily vivid. Not what I need to be thinking about! When did this happen?!

It wasn’t as if Naruto was a totally repulsive individual. If he had been, even if he had possession of useful skills, it was doubtful Sasuke would hang around with him. It isn’t an unreasonable assessment to even say that the dobe’s not an ugly guy.

He stepped back from a moment. My thoughts are considerably less than coherent right now. Absently, he took one of the energy bars he had bought, ripped open the packaging, and took a bite of it. Maybe if there is something in my stomach, I’ll be more able to think.

The energy bar declined to comment.

***||***

A somewhat famous saying among the more cautious shinobi was as follows: “those who fight and run away live to fight another day.” It can be seen as a show of cowardice for someone to run away from a fight, but as with most things, there were multiple views of such a strategy. If one was winning a fight, then fleeing is a foolish action. If one, however, is losing a fight, then running away can virtually guarantee a higher rate of survival then staying doggedly in and hoping for a lucky jugular hit or three generally would. Among the shinobi in general, running away is understood, but publicly frowned upon as an action of fear that should have been controllable.

Sasuke had cooked himself a dinner of stir fry and rice. He had put the remnants of his meal into small containers and placed them in the now-full fridge to be kept fresh. He had even washed his dishes. Thoughts of why Naruto’s having a fan club bothered him had been conspicuously absent during the excessive time he spent doing tasks that normally took up a fraction of what they had taken tonight.

Enough stalling. Drying his hands off, he walked to his couch and flung himself down with a huffiness few had even seen. Why does this bother me?

Almost immediately, images of Naruto in a tight green pair of underthings assualted his vision. Despite himself, he smirked. At least I know it isn’t because I envy his physique. I’m quite pleased with my own.

He concentrated harder on the pictures. People with bloodline limits connected to their eyes had better focus and range than those who did not, and Sasuke, as the last heir to the Sharingan, was no exception. Soon, details not visible to those with normal vision started appearing to him, and he was rewarded (in a way) by a small rush of anger.

People...spying on the dobe while he lays there oblivious...pisses me off?

Anger of a different sort swamped him. I’m at least not stupid enough to lie there defenseless and let people walk by and gawk at me! That must have been it; the fact that the moron was so dense as to assume he couldn’t or wouldn’t be attacked while half-naked and enjoying the sun (how can anyone enjoy the sun?! It’s too damn bright...) was responsible for pissing him off to this extent.

Sighing, he promised himself that he’d tell the idiot to not do it when he saw him tomorrow. After all, someone’s got to protect him from fatal stupidity, and if no one’s going to, then I guess it falls to me.

***||***

Before I start ranting, I would like to ask two things: one, for dilemmalicious, I would indeed like that scanned pic of Sasuke you were telling me about, and I adore your writing. The second is for everyone; if there are links about my stuff or fanart or whatnot, would you send me the links to them? I admit to being curious about what people have to say about me or my stuff.

On to the rant...Sasuke is a brilliant, brilliant person, but he's (to put it bluntly) something of an emotional fuckup. He isn't going to know what's going on right away because (as I am so fond of thinking/saying), emotions do not respond to logic. Shutting them out only works for so long, and not even all that effectively at that. Along the lines of being an emotionally stunted person is the stunting of his sex drive. If the guy's only felt anger for the longest time (::said with extreme sarcasm:: Gee, thanks Itachi), desire, anger of other sorts, and the whole spectrum of emotion in general is bound to be confusing.

And yes, Naruto has a fanclub. I'm not just a stalker-fangirl as is all-too-common in Sasuke's situation. I am content, akin to Hinata, of watching and enjoying at a distance, and at the moment, though the village's contempt toward Naruto has lessened, it still will take time to break through social mores (mor-ayes) and start pursuing Naruto openly.

Again, sorry for not updating very frequently. I will attempt to remedy that, and soon.