Only for You

Pairing: Sasuke/Naruto
Archive: Just ask.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. That honor belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.
A/N: Slight AU in reguard to the Uchiha clan. (Very minor.)

It wasn’t as if he remembered anything grand. In point of fact, he remembered nothing about it at all. All that was clear was that in the blinking of his eyes, his entire state of existence had been completely redefined.

He hadn’t known at first just what had happened. When you’re two steps from a beast’s fearsome, hungry jaws, a squalling infant in your arms, you don’t have much time to consider your surroundings. With the hot traces of fire desiring to consume you, and the quaking little life you may accidentally snuff out if you move even your littlest finger a scant inch too far, there isn’t time.

He’d only read it once, in one of those odd moments of divine happenstance. Two, perhaps three years ago when he got bored and decided to raid the library. Surely, there’d be something of interest. A unique jutsu at the very least.

He was tired of knowing nearly everything. Exhausted beyond compare by their expectations.

He’d found it in the back, dusty and sealed. An ancient text he was sure had been stolen from a far away hidden village, if the designs were any indication. He’d taken it out, blew off the dust and carted it to a sunny corner. By the time he’d gotten to the really good stuff, they were looking for him.

With an abject sigh, he’d set it down, fully intent on reading it later. Unfortunately, an accident ended up burning half the library two days later, and he’d never gotten to finish.

He wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing. Working on some vague recollection from a drowsy summer afternoon’s misplaced entertainment. He could only hope he didn’t screw it up. There’d be no way to live with himself if he did.

Unable to pause, having moved without thinking, there was no backing out now.

And as he felt the powerful surge of energy electrify every nerve in his body, he knew there’d be nothing but darkness from that moment after.

He was wrong.

No sooner had the pain stopped, than he was blinking his eyes. There was smoke everywhere, and people yelling. Calling his name. The heavy, throbbing sounds of the wounded hastening to his side.

He watched them approach, and gave a smile, ready to laugh away their concern. But, at the looks on their faces, he paused. Following their eyes, he looked, to find his own body at his feet. He blinked in surprise and bent down. His hand slipped through his own shoulder with no feeling. Not a jolt of recognition. No lingering pain. Nothing.

He sighed then. Unsure if this was a result of the jutsu, or if this was just how the afterlife was lived.

As the smoke cleared, he heard one startled shinobi say, “He’s alive!” His voice was so conflicted, that the newly deceased gave pause. There, in the arms of the one who had spoken lay a sleeping baby. The same baby he’d grabbed unthinkingly and rushed out to greet his end with.

He smiled in relief. He hadn’t died. Thank whatever gods were listening!

However, before he could even fully relax at the wonderful news, another was hissing, “You fool! Put it down! That’s the Kyuubi you’re cradling, you idiot!”

The shinobi holding the baby paused and looked down. It was a moment before he frowned darkly and set the baby back down upon the ashen earth.

“Nobody touch it,” said the second again. “Wait until Sarutobi-sama arrives. He’ll know what to do.”

“What about Yondaime-sama?”

He looked down to find a young shinobi, no older than his beloved student Kakashi crouched beside his head, hands hovering above him, trembling slightly in the aftermath.

“For now, move him aside. There’s no reason he should have to remain beside this monster a moment longer. He’s a hero, you know.”

He tried to tell them they were wrong. Tried to explain they’d misunderstood. Frustrated, he’d shouted. Ordered them to stop immediately. But they could not hear him.

He ranted and raved. Threw out his arms and stomped his foot. He tried to summon enough chakra to make them see. But he couldn’t, and they didn’t.

And then came the darkness.


It was like a long, slow blink.

When he next regained control of his senses, he was standing in his own office. Sarutobi-sensei was behind the desk, looking down sadly at the tiny baby. “I’m so sorry, my dear boy,” he said softly. “Tonight you have joined your fellows in the true suffering of our kind. It would seem, you were not lucky enough to escape these horrors another night.”

He reached down and stroked the infant’s soft blonde hair.

“I’m sure he meant well. He’d want you to be a hero, you know. Just like he was.”

The baby gave a tiny grunt, and much to his relief, Sarutobi-sensei did not shun him as the others had. Instead, he gently lifted him up, holding him in a strong, confident embrace.

“You don’t need to fear, Naruto. I will not let them designate a life for you.” He crossed over to the window and looked out, his gaze traversing the entire village before finally resting upon the sacred mountain. The mountain they’d turned into a monument.

Moving to look himself, he found his own face being meticulously carved beside the Sandaime’s. He gave a reserved sigh. He truly was gone then, if they were immortalizing him so soon. A Hokage did not receive such an honor until they’d sacrificed a great deal. What greater sacrifice than his life?

He vaguely wondered if his name had been added to the stone. And if so, beside who’s?

“They will see,” Sarutobi-sensei said suddenly. “It may take many years…but one day, Naruto, they will see you for the bright shinning star you were born to be.”

Thankful that someone had compassion for the child he’d so recklessly entombed so dangerous a beast in, he felt a peace he hadn’t realized was possible. The feeling soaked through every fiber of his being, until his eyes closed in contented bliss.


When they opened again, Naruto was five years old.

Could the dead sleep? Where had all the time gone?

He didn’t think too deeply on it. He couldn’t. For the child was sobbing. Curled up into a ball, his arms clutching tightly to one another about almost too thin legs. He was sitting in the shadow of a building, his clothes dusty, and an ominous stain across his brow.

Panic erupted immediately. Not for the danger the village could be in if the child were harmed. Not for the Kyuubi raging inside the small, quaking body – biding it’s time, waiting for revenge. No. He felt no concern for the village at all. His entire being racked over the condition of the child.

There was no cut to relay where he’d been struck. No indication of how. There was no bruise at all to be seen. Just a stain of blood that lay across his brow, drifting down over his left eye. Drops fell alongside the tears he shed, marking the dirt with the evidence of his pain.

He looked around. There was no sign of anyone. No attacker, no jeering offender, not even a concerned eye glanced the child’s way. The people didn’t approach, passing instead as if the child simply did not exist. And the child cried on, with no one to comfort him.

Crouching down, he moved to embrace him. Frustrated at the way his arms slipped through him. The child gave a shiver, and looked up quickly.

Could he feel him?

Curiously, he reached out and stroked at the child’s tear stained cheek. There was a little gasp, large blue eyes widening in confused awe. And then a tiny hand passed through his to touch the same cheek.

Yes! Could it be? This child knew of him! Could feel him! Perhaps…perhaps, if he could just…

But then the child quickly stood. Shaking, he held his cheek as if stuck and ran away.

He watched him go. Ducking around carts and carriages. Weaving through a crowd that paid him no heed. Fair little head, and small heaving chest finally disappearing against a horizon that was blindingly bright.


If closing his eyes led to sleeping, and sleeping indicated rest of some sort, then he realized he’d not done so in some time. The fate of the little blonde seemed to hold him fast to alertness. He felt no need to enter the slow blink that would propel him forward. There was no feeling urging him to do anything but remain by his side.

So that was exactly what he did.

With no way to measure the passage of time, but the growth of the little boy he followed, the former leader of Konohagakure was at a complete loss. He followed the child everywhere. To and from school. To and from the Hokage’s office, where once, perhaps twice a week, the Sandaime made time in his busy schedule to check up on the child and give him some money.

Frankly, he found the entire thing wholly and utterly disgusting. The child was treated abhorrently! Like a miniscule abomination ninety-nine percent of the time.

With the exception of the Sandaime, and two of the boy’s academy sensei, no one paid him much mind at all. Most parents wouldn’t let their children play with ‘the demon’ and those that did – a select few clans still loyal to him, even in death – could not help the taint that clouded the air about their own children. They suffered as well, by allowing their children to interact freely with the Yondaime’s chosen sacrifice.

Luckily, the clans were strong. Of quality moral founding, and thusly neither cared, nor acknowledged being snubbed. In fact, there were times it seemed they dared others to speak out against their allowance.

Even with the generous offer of their children’s fickle companionship, it seemed the parents themselves, never interacted with the child at all. Any messages conveyed were through their offspring. Which, anyone knows, is not the best way to get anything worthwhile across. And while they invited the other children into their homes, and lives, there was still that invisible barrier, that kept his little one out.

At the end of the play day, the other children would be collected by loving parents they’d have to run to, and Naruto was left alone. He’d watch them leave, most days, sitting dejectedly upon a swing. And he could not help but stand behind him, curving fingers that could no longer hold about the flimsy metal. If everyone was so adamant about keeping to their own, so be it.

There were times, of course, he wondered.

Where was his student? Why did he never visit? Why was he not helping Naruto feel what he himself had been so long denied? He’d wanted them to be a family. For both to have a brother to depend on. For Naruto to have someone who could see him for who he was and look out for him. And for Kakashi to know what it felt like to be truly loved, with the unconditional, boundless nature of the innocent.

It wasn’t until the day of the festival however; that he could see how blindly the village viewed his own sacrifice.


Sarutobi-sama had asked Naruto to stay at home. But, what five-year-old who lived on their own could listen? Sure, there was always an ANBU on guard to ensure the child didn’t burn down his home, but not one bothered to run the bath water, or lay out his pajamas, or even tuck him into bed. They milled around just beyond his small apartment walls like jailers to a keep. While within, Naruto burned himself trying to make cheap ramen, or took cold baths because the handle to the hot water needed a firm grip to start, or had to sleep on the couch in unclean pajama bottoms, because he’d had another accident by way of nightmare.

Through it all he watched. Wanting nothing more than to pour the water, and turn the handle. To tuck him into a warm bed, with clean sheets and kiss him on the brow, with a fond ‘good night.’ To comfort him as he awoke from harrowing dreams and began to cry. Holding him close in arms that felt, and tucking him against a warmth he could share. With a steady, beating heart and a voice that rumbled softly, to lull him back to sleep.

But, he had none of these things. He could speak, but the child could not hear. He could try to help, but his touch only scared the tiny blonde more, so he had long since refrained from doing so. What Naruto needed was a friend. A Father. Someone who would watch over him. To be there for him. Someone to listen to his fears and witness his struggles. Someone who could acknowledge him. Who could love him, all circumstances aside. And who – if it ever came to it – would be waiting with a smile and open arms, to welcome him to wherever here was.

As Naruto slipped out past the insufficient guard – no one really wanted to work this night, and most especially, not with him - he followed.

He trailed behind the child, as he inched his way across the railing, leaping from the balcony below unto a nearby tree branch, and scrambling down to the ground below. He gave a little vulpine grin in triumph, and hurried across the lawn. The ‘guard’ didn’t even notice – too wrapped up in flirting with his own visitor.

Naruto made quick work, crossing to the brightened central area of the village, where the festival was taking place. With every step, a growing feeling of dread swirled higher, wound tighter in his guardian.

At first, no one seemed to take note. Too accustomed to ignoring the boy, to start recognizing his presence now. In fact, Naruto made it all the way into the village square without incident. The shinobi who noticed turned blind eyes, as they’d likely been ordered to do. And many villagers shied away from the curious child, perhaps superstitious.

The first to acknowledge the boy’s presence, was in fact, one of the dogs of the Inuzuka clan. A furry head lifted in his direction, sharp eyes holding him firmly in their gaze. It didn’t growl. It simply stood and watched. A little hand suddenly appeared. An arm slung about the dog’s neck, by a person half it’s massive size. “What’s wrong, Maemi?” The dog turned to lick a tattooed cheek, eliciting a ticklish giggle from the small Master.

And then a brown head ducked under it’s furry neck and popped up on the other side. “Oh. Hi, Naruto!” The brunette - whom in the eyes of Naruto’s silent guardian was likely the boy’s closest, most loving friend to date – waved cheerily, arm held high above his head.

Unfortunately, the energetic greeting got the attention of the crowd around them. It was almost as if a heavy fog had rolled in. He could see ANBU operatives edging closer, as if preparing to end some sort of inevitable fray. Someone shouted something derogatory. The young heir to the Inuzuka clan was dragged off into the crowd, and Naruto – alone and friendless – was forced back. The malice hanging so heavily, even the weak could feel it strongly.

Suddenly, the defenseless child was all anyone could see. The little blonde viciously taunted, with dripping underlying hatred. The happy atmosphere quickly became poisonous. And Naruto had nowhere to go. No refuge to seek. All the while, he was followed closely, by the only one who understood him, and the only one who could do nothing with that understanding.

It was this night, that the former Yondaime Hokage realized, that when he got angry enough, he was capable of wielding the natural chakra of the environment. Although, admittedly, overturning a fireworks cart in a rage, just as Naruto ran past, did not help the child’s image in the least.

He had to calm down. For Naruto’s sake.

Naruto, who’d just blindly crashed into someone.

If he had breath, he was sure he would be holding it. Naruto, scared and confused, propelled backward after landing, showering the woman’s flowery kimono with gravel and dirt. The raven haired, dark eyed child beside her scowled deeply at the blonde, and clutched his mother’s arm protectively. “It’s all right, Sasuke,” she cooed, stroking his arm gently.

Settling into a crouch to collect her dropped belongings, she smiled warmly at Naruto, who had stopped moving all together, in fear of the consequence. Slowly, she reorganized her possessions. Then she stood and smoothed out her expensive kimono. Her son held tightly to her sleeve, unsure of how to react. The village seemed to want to punish Naruto more severely than necessary for the accident, and the other child picked up on that. He must have found it somewhat irrational, however, because instead of acting on the smothering presence, he kept quiet by her side.

Leaning down, the woman held out an arm, hand open to the shocked blonde. When he didn’t take it, she instead stepped closer, bent at the waist, and settling her hands just under his arms, lifted him gently. Naruto flinched at the touch, and flutter of worry seemed to cross her lovely face. Setting him down, she dusted him off with careful touches. Naruto, unaccustomed to being cared for, simply stared and let her.

“There now,” she said, stepping back to look him over. “All better.”

She smiled once more. The warm, loving smile of a mother. Naruto, however, was not comforted by the smile. He could not recognize it, never having such a beautiful thing directed at him, and so shuffled away, head lowered.

“Wait!” she called, as he moved out of range. Surprisingly, Naruto stopped. He looked up at her shyly, through a fringe of untamed blonde. He kept still, as she walked over to him, her own young son following her, still attached to her sleeve, if less noticeably now. She stopped before him, and stepped to his side. Reaching down, she took his tiny hand in hers and gave it a warm squeeze. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

Naruto seemed about to protest, but the moment he stepped even the slightest bit away, the village radiated loathing from every direction. Stepping to her side and looking up at her, he gazed in a sort of ignorant awe. She smiled once more and with another small, reassuring squeeze, started down the main road.

Her son took her other hand, holding her belongings in the crook of his free arm. He tried several times to look around her at the other child, but Naruto didn’t notice. His cheeks were warm with embarrassment. His eyes half lidded in happiness. And his head was angled in a way that allowed him to see her, and subtlety rest his head against her forearm.

She smiled down at him the entire way.


He followed them, a few steps behind. This was a moment he could feel. The warmth of a maternal heart. The kindness of a gentle soul. Silently he followed, a sentinel in the darkness.

They had almost made it all the way before they were stopped by some drunken townsmen. The men had to know who the woman was, but they seemed to ignore the fact in favor of tormenting the innocent child she was protecting.

He watched as she held her arms behind her, forcing both boys into the shadow of her protection. She wasn’t a ninja. She was married to one, had borne one with the potential of legend and another who’d yet to be valued. Yet she stood, facing three burly, irritated, inebriated men, who wanted to harm a child, with no fear. She stood tall, using her body as a shield, her demeanor as a shield. Protecting the two little boys with the kind of ferocity likened only to cornered animals.

As he was hopelessly trying to gather the anger necessary to mold the available chakra, several kunai shot out of the darkness. A thin ninja materialized between her and the would be assualters. The men glared at the young shinobi, with glazed eyes, full of fury.

“I suggest,” the shinobi said, his lazy drawl hiding a vicious undertone. “You direct your stupidity elsewhere, and leave this nice woman and her children alone.”

“Are you blind?!” snapped one. He pointed with a sharp gesture that missed its mark entirely. “That’s no kid! That’s-” The first reaction to the fist settled firmly in his gut was to vomit. The sickly substance pouring onto the ground in a single, morbid shot. It slipped past the shinobi’s shoulder, before welcoming its former host into its polluted embrace.

Silvery hair caught the light of both the moon, and burning torches. The shadows cast menacingly across his covered left eye, glinting in a wink of polished hitate. He stood there for several long moments. Watching the men first cower, then heft their friend’s heavy mass between them, and running off as quickly as they could.

He should have noticed by the stance. By the quick, flawless movement. Hell, even the protected eye was a dead give away! As the shinobi turned around, he was faced with his last surviving student. Had he his heart, it would be beating in wide, glorious leaps. In fact, it almost felt like it was.

He called out to him. Walked over to him. Waved a hand in front of the covered eye, hoping the hidden sharingan might be able to make out his presence. Nothing. Kakashi neither blinked, nor furrowed his brow in a silent fret, like he so often had as a child.

“Are you all right?” he asked the woman he’d rescued, as she stroked first one head, then another. Naruto seemed surprised by the caress, and she smoothed back his hair again, just to reassure him.

“Yes, thank you for your help.”

He gave a curt sort of bow. “It was my pleasure, Uchiha-san.”

She smiled and hugged both boys to her. Naruto gave a sort of flail, as her own son seemed perturbed at being treated in such a way before a shinobi. “My husband will be pleased to know that his family is so well respected.”

“Perhaps,” said Kakashi, tucking his hands in his pockets. “We should keep this to ourselves.” He looked over at Naruto with his visible eye, and the woman, Uchiha-san, followed his gaze.

After a moment, she nodded. “Perhaps, it’s best this way.”

“Why don’t you and your younger son return to the celebration?”

“We were walking Naruto-chan home,” she replied, looking down at the blonde child fondly. “Weren’t we?”

Naruto nodded slowly.

“It’s fine,” stated the Jounin. “I’ve been assigned to him. I’ll take him back.”

Naruto shied away from him. Over his shoulder, the once loving sensei of the magnificent shinobi who had rescued them, was discomforted by the reaction.

“We are taking a walk,” replied Uchiha-san. “Won’t you join us?”

The young shinobi sighed, but it was reserved. “Of course,” he replied.


As they started off, back across road, the silent, invisible member of their party remained. He watched as the wife of the head of the Uchiha clan held tightly to both boys’ hands. He watched her keep them close. Even if they were now accompanied by a highly trained Jounin, she was still willing to be the first one injured.

He smiled at that. This was what Naruto needed. A woman like this to guide and protect him. Someone else’s mother she may be, but she was a mother all the same. With her here to watch over Naruto, perhaps things would get easier.

And now that Kakashi had appeared, he was certain his former student could handle the protection of the young, inexperienced vessel.

So certain was he, of both, that he felt the weight of his eyelids. They fluttered once, and through them, he could see the silhouette of a beautiful woman, a powerful young man, and two children with great potential. As they closed, he felt Naruto’s happiness at finally being accepted by someone. It was this last, blissful thing that lulled him. A feeling that lingered.