Life Before Life After

Prologue-Chapter One


Sasuke killed his brother on a Sunday. It was dark, the moon was barely peeking through the treetops, but for them both the forest was bright as day. Nothing went unnoticed; not the pulsing of Itachi's jugular, not that he never seemed to look Sasuke in the eye, not how he struggled with himself to just move while Sasuke came after him with the remnants of everything, every emotion, he had left.

When Sasuke finally put his hand through Itachi’s heart, he did it with love.

After, when he was sure Itachi was dead he’d looked down at the body, the jumble of limbs on the forest floor and had been perfectly at ease with the sickening sprawl of murder. It was murder, Sasuke needed it to be murder, like it had almost been with that certain person at the valley of the end.

Murder, unlike vengeance, allowed no justifications.

When the sun rose the next day Sasuke picked himself up off the ground and cleaned his wounds. He bandaged three deep slashes (thigh, bicep, chest), took one of Kabuto’s custom soldier pills, and tried not to jostle his broken wrist too much. Everything seemed to ache, from fractured ribs, bruised muscles, and an equally cracked head. Somehow even Sasuke’s heart seemed to hurt.

Itachi was nearly unblemished, and would have seemed to be sleeping if not for the gaping hole through the middle of his chest.

It would have been difficult to carry his brother’s corpse all the way to Konoha, but in all his time laboring in Sound he did actually learn something. He pulled out one of Kabuto’s gifts, a sealing scroll, inked the appropriate kanji, and deposited his brother’s corpse into a neat little slot right next to Karen, Suigetsu, and Juugo. Itachi had spent a good deal of their fight picking off Sasuke’s team members, so it was only fitting that he join them.

When it was done the scroll seemed to weigh on him just as heavy as the corpse, but luckily, was much easier to transport. Sasuke put four dead bodies in his pocket, pulled himself together, and headed towards the border, towards Konoha and the Uchiha clan graves.

The fact that he fulfilled his one goal escaped him on his journey there; he was far too busy wondering how there could still be a spark of emotion in his brother’s dying eyes, and why after all the misery, torture, and pain that emotion seemed to be pity.


*****

It wasn’t something they could stop. Not once those red eyes peeked out of the fringe of black hair, not when that mouth twisted into a grimace, and certainly not when they caught sight of Uchiha Itachi’s corpse being dragged along behind, a trail of blood leading ever closer to the gates of Konoha. After four years Sasuke had returned, and despite all of his misdeeds and crimes, his S-ranked nukenin status, he limped back into the village with no resistance at all. In fact, he looked at the two men shaking in their chuunin vests with his red, red eyes, and simply laughed, pinwheels spinning. Then he hoisted his brother’s body on his shoulder, jumped up, and took to the rooftops. It was a horrible sound, Ino would later recall, the sound had made the summer day cold and Sasuke’s beaten form terrifying.

Only moments later, ANBU alerted, Hokage yelled for, they had found Sasuke in the Uchiha graveyard, watching the corpse of his brother burn. Tsunade had agreed; that laugh, a low, smooth chuckle, was one of the few things to truly unsettle her nerves and she found herself trembling as she ordered the ANBU to simply monitor the fire.

Uchiha Sasuke had come home.

*Chapter One*

“The station has looked like this for as long as I can remember.” The old man said, shuffling in his robes as they walked up the steps. “I’m glad you can get a sense of what your family was like before they, well…”

“Were slaughtered?” Sasuke supplied, pushing into the MP headquarters by way of swinging door. Much like a saloon, he noted as the man sputtered behind him, rushing to keep up as Sasuke walked in.

“He he, yes well. Here is Konohagakure’s Civilian Police. Wonderful, ne?” He smiled and gestured into the room, his beady eyes nearly obscured by drooping flesh and long blue veins. Sasuke followed his hand movement and briefly wondered if the man was insane.

“I have no use for sarcasm.” Sasuke replied, taking in the dusty cabinets, the bedraggled officers in holey, fraying uniforms. Even the few ANBU hanging around were sloppy, their masks above their heads as they swung fans to avoid the oppressive heat. They eyed Sasuke a moment before turning away.

Fans. Those were everywhere too, on the walls, the desks, the floor, and when Sasuke saw the symbol he was always surprised to not see the splatters of blood, or the deep slash of a kunai.

“Sarcasm?”

Sasuke was saved from further disgust by the old man who was wringing his hands, and smiling like he had something to fear.

“No, young master.” His voice had gone from a low grate to a high whine. “I assure you-”

Sasuke turned to him and sighed, desperately trying to fight off a headache.

“You are my great uncle’s cousin in law? Disowned from the clan, right? Uchiha Yoshi?”

Yoshi bowed slightly, sweat visible on his upper lip.

“Yes, young master.”

“Then grow a backbone, Yoshi.” Sasuke said, nudging him into a standing position. “And tell me how this…cesspit came to be.”

****

After quite a bit of sake and even more dango it turned out to be that Yoshi did in fact have a backbone, and an opinion of how current events came to be.

“I don’t like sweet things.” Sasuke murmured for about the fortieth time as he waved the server away, listening intently to the old man’s diatribe, which was about one part amusing, pitiful, and informative, respectively.

“It all comes down to money.” Yoshi ended, his gnarled hands folded under his chin. “The Uchiha supplied a great deal of funds for the force, and a small council managed the money that came from the village directly. After Itachi-kun killed everyone,” his tongue had loosened considerably and Sasuke couldn’t help a flinch, “There was no one from the clan to manage the budget and it fell into civilian hands. And, of course, when a great deal of money falls in one’s lap…”

“It was stolen.”

“Right you are.” Yoshi nodded, and took another sip of tea. “The bastard took off to the casinos in Cloud country and lived the high life for just enough time to lose it all.”

“And then he was eliminated.” Sasuke could put the picture together easily. “Then it was up to the Hokage to supply the funds, but by that time Sandaime was busy with the damage from the Kyuubi.”

“As you say.” Yoshi said, his mouth full of dango. Sasuke reached into a pocket and dry-swallowed a thin white pill. A pain-killer made by the Godaime herself that almost immediately took away the pressure behind his eyes.

“Are you ill?”

“No.” Sasuke took a sip of tea. “How are these people at doing their jobs?”

“I don’t know. Never been arrested.” Yoshi burst out into startling guffaws, slapping his knee. Sasuke did his best to lean away from the spittle. Yoshi settled down after a few hiccups, long enough to hand Sasuke a scroll from beneath his robes. Sasuke took it, sliding his finger under the lip to break the Hokage’s seal.

Jounin Uchiha
If you are reading this you know by know the pitiful state of the MP. Trust me, it only gets worse. Tonight, at 1800 precisely a messenger will bring you budget reports for the last five years, and any claims against the station that seem pertinent to the situation. Personnel files will also arrive for those currently employed by the station, from Janitor to ANBU and everything in between, so be ready. You have a week to go through these documents and provide both a budget proposal and twenty viable ideas on how to get the station running to its previous efficiency. I am sending one of my best assistants to aid you in this task, but if you fail, know that the other option is to be imprisoned in a one-man solitary cell until the day you die.
Godaime Hokage
PS- You might want to scar yourself a little, as pretty faces don’t do well in prison.

“Bitch.” At least he knew now where Orochimaru had gotten his sense of humor.

Yoshi looked about half a breath from a heart attack as Sasuke began to tear the scroll into pieces, muttering every obscenity he could before he heard a loud and very satisfying rip. Taking another flying leap out of Leaf was starting to look promising, but that was what she wanted. That was what they all wanted. He wouldn’t give them the pleasure of renewing his picture in the Bingo book.

Sasuke took a deep breath to reign in his control, or the horrible lack thereof, and stood.

“Thank you for your time, Yoshi-san.” He said, laying down the necessary bills and coins on their little table, “I may come to you for further information on a future date.”

“Yes, Yes, of course-” Sasuke turned away, head full of rage and dismay as the old man bowed.
He looked just like every servant in Sound, ingratiating and fearful as Sasuke simply looked down.

Oh, how the Uchiha had fallen.

******

When first approached with the idea of housing Sasuke had been a little stunned, having come right on the heels of being kicked out of Morino Ibiki’s tender care. Housing, you say? Sure, but let me take care of these gushing flesh wounds first. The answer to the problem had been both amazingly simple and agonizingly painful; the Uchiha district. Sasuke had stood, carefully, and stumbled to the complex with all the confidence and grace of a blind Hyuuga, but he had made it in the end, just long enough to lurch into the first viable housing unit, lie down on the porch and pass out.

He had been awoken by a wet cheek and the sour smell of wild dog.

Given his grace period of two months (months in which they were sure he would run, fleeing from the rules, the experimental chakra constraints, the solitude) he took an opportunity to ghost through each building and scavenge for useful artifacts. Not surprisingly there was little there, at first cry of his defection the vultures had descended on his sole remaining heritage and picked it apart bit by bit. Still, Sasuke was an Uchiha, as had been his relatives, and the Uchiha had always been more than skin deep.

Hiding places had exposed fine linens, priceless china and scrolls of art. Under floorboards there had been books, behind seals there had been tatami mats and a western type bed with a mattress far softer than he deserved. By the time Sasuke was done assembling all these little treasures of long-dead relatives the main house looked to be more museum than mansion, and garishly beautiful to every degree.

It really wasn’t fair, he knew, but it was all he had. Sasuke couldn’t bear to give such priceless treasures away, not even out of guilt.

There had to be some punishment though, and with that in mind Sasuke took up residence in the main house. His rich artifacts no longer sparkled, and in his ever growing horror he felt somewhat redeemed. He fixed delicate shoji doors, weeded what was once an impressive garden, he ripped out and replaced old rotten wood, and when he could bring himself to do it, Sasuke would scrub at the dark stains of blood that led in a dripping trail to a wide puddle in his parent’s room. His room now.

He dragged the elegant western bed into that room and it no longer felt quite so comfortable. In two months Sasuke made his little place in Konoha and proved that though he was perfectly aware that it would not make him happy he would remain in Konohagakure for the rest of his miserable life.

The second letter from the Godaime came while he was putting the final touches on the garden, and the ANBU delivering it nodded in subtle appreciation before puffing away.

He fumed for a little while and destroyed some of the minor houses by hand, but in the end he agreed with Tsunade. He still had something to do. The Uchiha legacy was far from redeemed. Not even his brother’s ashes had calmed the ghosts who slipped about the compound late at night

So he waited patiently, very patiently, for 1800 to come around, resolving himself not to be too cruel to the assigned assistant. Sasuke had finally learned how to take help when it was needed.

****

“Sorry. Sorry.” The man laughed, obscured by about four enormous boxes of loose scrolls and files. “There was this thing with this kid and his mom was crying but they managed to reattach the foot, and-”

Sasuke slammed the door in his face (well, box). Moments later the knock returned, followed by low, nearly silent cursing as a few audible thumps sent a tremble through the floor.

Sasuke slid the door open, perfectly ready to loose a tirade on timeliness and respect, but even the first word dried on his tongue as he looked at the chuunin before him.

“Oh.” Naruto said, in an infuriatingly moderate surprise, “Hello.”

He carried the box on his hip like a child, but the obvious bulk seemed to be nothing to one slender arm. Naruto was still short, would always be shorter than him barring some cosmic act, but Sasuke really hadn’t expected him to look quite so slim in the Standard Konoha uniform. Malnutrition, Sasuke figured, looking Naruto up and down, and he wondered how he had managed to miss it during their genin days.

“You look ridiculous in that chuunin’s vest.” Sasuke replied, his voice running on automatic, because really, Naruto a chuunin still? It was laughable.

Naruto raised his eyebrows and Sasuke was unsurprised to see his eyes were still the same startling blue, even in the dimming sunset. There was a change behind those lips though; a barely there tip of fang that was both unnatural and fascinating simultaneously. He was still buzzing with energy, unsurprising, but Naruto’s demeanor was drastically altered, from the twitch of his head to his lax, nearly delicate, hands.

“I guess.” Was all he said, blinking a few times in a pause. “Are you going to help me with these boxes or what?”

‘Or what’ Sasuke almost sneered, but from the massive quantity alone he knew that should he refuse help he’d be back in that rotten cell by the end of the week. So Sasuke heaved up two boxes, grunting at the weight Naruto didn’t even flinch for, and dumped them in by the low dinner table, swiping the place settings to the side. Naruto gave him a look at the sound of breaking porcelain. Sasuke didn’t care.

“Obviously the Hokage wants me to fail if she’s sent you as an administrative assistant.”

It was like talking to air, Naruto didn’t even seem to hear him.

Naruto flopped down on a cushion and pulled the closest box towards him, then reaching into the mess to hand a few dozen marked files that seemed to be organized by color.

“These are the annual budget reports for ten years, pre- massacre.” Naruto said, his voice very close to monotonous as he slid a pack to Sasuke’s left. “These are the budget reports for the ten years since. Both sets are compounded by year.”

Sasuke was now confronted by a white stack of folders, and a black stack, not to mention a quickly growing dread as Naruto continued to reach into the box by his side.

“This is your annual budget approved by the council for this year, and the stipulations for its use.” Naruto continued, his hands moving just as quickly as he mouth. If Sasuke could have he would have activated the sharingnan just to keep track of all the documents and what the damn things corresponded to.

“I have compiled a chart showing the Council’s allotments for both periods of time, by year, to show that, well, in layman’s terms…they’re screwing you.”

Sasuke looked up in surprise to finally see a little life in Naruto’s unnerving efficiency.

“How so?”

“After the strength of the Uchiha declined, the power behind the MP declined as well. A lot of other organizations scooped up the budget while the remaining non-uchiha’s scrambled for leadership.”
He pulled out another scroll, black this time. “This scroll shows the influx of cash that went to the ANBU, Shinobi Supply and Housing, and Root…an organization we’re really not supposed to know about.”

“But everyone bows to paperwork.” Sasuke snorted, leaning back to look at it all.

Naruto smiled, but it was small and closed-mouthed, revealing absolutely no tangible emotion.

“Our job is to take all of this information, make some fancy graphs, and show why exactly you need more cash to revive the MP. Have you taken a good look at the station?”

“Dilapidated and disorderly.” Sasuke confirmed, “Equipment obviously sub-par.”

“Exactly.” Naruto replied shortly, taking all of his scrolls and files and returning them to their previous homes. Next he pulled two boxes towards him and Sasuke flinched at the words he could already read at the top. “Personnel reports.”

“At the moment you have two shifts paying just barely above minimum wage by hour, with no benefits besides the automatic benefits average shinobi. So the civilian MP has nothing to fall back on in times of trouble. They have three vacation days a year, and four sick days annually, never to be used in conjunction with each other. Sick days and vacation days expire on the New Year. In short; they’re the temp janitors of the peace-keeping establishment.”

Sasuke agreed with a nod.

“Which means…” Naruto reached deep into the next box and produced a large stack of loose folders along with a thin scroll, “You have twenty day-officers on duty, ten at night. This is a fraction of before the massacre and they’re mostly lazy, bigoted, bums.”

There it was; Naruto’s attitude. Obviously he’d had a run-in with said officers and things had not gone well. Sasuke nearly asked why, but decided to keep the peace by not rehashing old memories.

“These are their personal files.” Naruto knocked on the stack. “The two retired ANBU have taken it upon themselves to be captains of each shift.”

“And their performance?”

Naruto looked up with one savage, vulpine grin and gestured to another box.

“These are the formal complaints against the station given to the Hokage.”

Sasuke looked down at the box and sighed, rummaging around his pocket until he found another pill to swallow down. A pair of large blue eyes followed the motion of his hands, narrowing as Sasuke revealed one small capsule.

“I get headaches.” He explained to Naruto, who just shrugged, still taking quick glances all the while. The pill got stuck in his throat, but Sasuke took a few tense moments to swallow while Naruto very politely ignored him, which begged the question; when had Naruto ever been polite?

“You also have four retired Jounin, twelve chuunin, and the rest are mostly civilians over the age of forty. Apparently the MP is now where the old warriors go to die, and they know it too.”

“Is there a recruitment program?”

Naruto shook his head. “It was tried three years after the massacre but the costs outweighed the benefits, and it wasn’t attempted again. Idiots.”

“And the fourth box?” Sasuke asked wearily hardly even registering the previous tension with his former teammate. This project was massive, and already eating at his soul. How could things have gone so bad so quickly? Why wasn’t anyone watching?

Naruto shrugged and patted the folded flaps on top. “It’s your salvation.” Was all he said, before standing with a careless stretch.

“Well,” Naruto sighed, looking for all intents and purposes, at peace with the world, “I have to go grade papers for Iruka-sensei. So I’ll see you tomorrow about the same time.”

Sasuke looked up, and knew he looked pathetic and lost, wilting in front of the massive pile of information on his small dining table. A week, all he had was a week and a fully underestimated, but apparently busy assistant. Naruto’s face softened a little and nudged the still closed box.

“Go through this first, Uchiha-san.” He smiled again, but still just as small, “The budget meetings aren’t until three months from now. As long as we have some proposals and reports ready Tsunade won’t give you such a hard time.”

“Won’t send me to prison you mean?”

“Yeah,” Naruto called from the hallway as he opened the door, “That!”

After a few moments of fully embracing frustration, Sasuke looked up at the clock.

It had only been an hour.