Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

The Ripple Effect	By : Kay_Gryffin Category: Naruto AU/AR > General Views: 1502 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, nor do I own any of the characters or am affiliated with the studio that makes/produces the show or the manga and neither the studios or groups who make these songs, and I do not make money off of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Remembering Him
- 2-Enough Is Enough
- 1
- 2
"I've been feeling like everything is for nothing.

In fact, I've never felt so goddamn small.

Always searching for the bright side to find the strength for when I fall.

I'm still believing that life has a meaning,

Can't cope with thinking that there's not!

I'm so divided that I try to hide it:

It's the only real thing that I've got."

"Mr. Uchiha?"
Fugaku sighed into the phone, recognizing the voice over the phone too easily. "Detective Hatake. How are you?" he asked, putting down his pen and already getting his car keys, knowing the drill all too well. Kakashi was always the one who called him, not a normal officer. It was because Kakashi was close to the family that he did that, not because it was his jurisdiction.
"Could be better. You already know what I'm going to say, right?"
"Sadly, yes. My only question is, how many are there, and can I bail them all out?" Fugaku asked tiredly, pulling on a pair of random sneakers from the depths of his shoe closet. He didn't particularly care which ones they were—he and Sasuke were the same shoe size, and his son didn't really wear sneakers that often anymore, so he tended to wear them all anyways. He looked at his watch: one AM. He could let him sit in there, but he'd tried that already with him. Obviously, that hadn't worked.
"Two others who aren't facing major jail time. Their own parents already bailed them, and I think they're on their way, so don't worry about them. None of them are in serious trouble. He started a fight, but the other person's not putting any charges, so he's okay to leave. Just try to talk to him about it; at this rate, he's going to end up unemployed for life, with the amount of times we've brought him in listed in his files. I can't get through to him, at all. One of these days, he's really going to end up with a major charge," said Kakashi Hatake, sounding concerned. Kakashi was an old family friend, having been under Minato's tutelage at the police department.
"Yes, I know," sighed Fugaku as he locked the front door.
"He might listen if you picked up your badge again, Mr. Uchiha, if you don't mind me saying. He would fear you more if you reminded him that you were a lieutenant once," Kakashi tried.
"I'm fine without it. I enjoy what I do now."
"Private investigating is nice, don't get me wrong Mr. Uchiha, but it's nothing like the power of a badge."
Fugaku sighed. "I know. But I'm fine with that I do. I'm good at it. Anyways, just make sure he doesn't cause anymore trouble. I'm on my way."
"Will do. Ah… Mr. Uchiha?"
"Hmm?"
"Old friend I used to go to university with, Kurenai, she does therapy. Her husband's a detective here, I'm not sure if you remember him—Asuma? Well, they've offered up some therapy for him, if you're okay with it. I think it'd do him some good, some therapy."
"Kakashi, I respect you, but he's not crazy."
"I never said he was. He's in mourning is all. Sure, it's been a year and a half, but that doesn't make it any different. Him and Minato's son, they're both in mourning." Kakashi swallowed audibly over the phone. "I can give you the number for it when you get here. If I give it to him, he'll just find some other use for it—bookmark or roll for joint or something. But, seriously, Mr. Uchiha… think about it. I promised I'd look out for you guys, so, I… I've gotta make sure. I know things are tough, and I know that saying they'll get easier is complete and utter bullshit, but… I've gotta try."
Fugaku sighed as well. "I know you're only doing what you think is right, Kakashi, and I know you wouldn't offer unless you thought it would help him." Fugaku got into his pickup truck, slamming the door closed before he closed his eyes. "I… I'll think about it. You can give me the number when custody is transferred over to me. I'll be about forty-five, fifty minutes—I figure he could wait a while before I get some coffee."
Maybe he hadn't completely given up on letting him stew for a while.

Seeing his father with his arms crossed over his chest, a look of disappointment in his tired eyes as he looked on him made Sasuke Uchiha feel like such a piece of utter shit. He looked over at Naruto, his [former] best friend, and he sighed and rubbed the back of his head. Naruto had gotten a job at the police station just after they'd graduated, and so he was no stranger to watching his friend leave the station.
"Okay, Sasuke, you're free to go," Naruto said as he undid the handcuffs, letting his best friend loose. Rubbing his wrists, he nodded at the Uzumaki, standing up and walking over to his father. He knew he looked like shit—eyeliner smeared around his bloodshot eyes, an odor of alcohol and weed hanging off his tight black nearly-see-through long sleeved shirt and black leather pants, his hair nearly limp, his cheek turning an interested shade of yellow from the bruise, his nail polish chipped and his fingernails bitten to the nub—and he tried not to care, but he did. He hated forcing his father to see this side of him. Hell, he just hated this side of him completely, but if he let it go… he'd feel pain. He didn't want to feel pain.
Kakashi stood next to his father, his mismatched eyes showing no emotion. It was a little weird to see a silver-haired man with a mask over his mouth and nose, admittedly, but Sasuke was more than used to the sight of his former mentor. Kakashi nodded politely at him, which he returned. Fugaku sighed and put a hand on Sasuke's chin, turning his face from side to side.
"Did you win?" he asked sarcastically. It was a rhetorical question. Fugaku did not want an answer, and Sasuke knew it. He also knew he was disappointed, and probably very close to just giving up on him. He didn't want that, but he also didn't want to feel the pain. He was scared of the possibility of it. Fugaku sighed and let go of his youngest. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head as he turned away, Sasuke wordlessly following his father.
He would apologize, but sorry just didn't suffice anymore. He'd done nothing to show he would change, so a promise would do nothing. What was there left to say without empty promises and apologies?
There was nothing. That was the reason why Sasuke hadn't had an actual conversation with his own father in about seven months.
He got into the seat next to his father, knowing there was no way in hell he would be driving. Not that he was exceptionally drunk and/or high to be unable to, but because his father would push him over to the shotgun seat anyways. He hadn't driven with his father in the seat next to him since he drove them to the hospital that last time. He would never say it, but he was afraid to drive the Toyota pickup truck. It was like death to him.
Fugaku leaned his forehead against the wheel and sighed. "Sasuke. You're going to be twenty in three months. You're not in college, you're unemployed, and you're fucking up your life before it even begins. Do you think that in some way, this will help you?"
Questions like these only required one-word answers. "No."
"You're a smart kid. You could be anything you want. Instead, you're choosing to be a fuck-up. Next time, you might just get charged and thrown into prison. You're so lucky that Minato and Naruto and Kakashi help you out. You're lucky that they know who you are down there, so they refuse to book you. But next time, you're going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you really are going to go to jail, and I can't help you." Fugaku closed his eyes. "Sasuke, I've exhausted my own energy and sanity trying to get you to talk to me, and you refuse. Instead, you go out, and you get drunk and high and get into fights. You're really running through the amount of trust and respect I have for you, and… your mother and brother would be disappointed in you Sasuke."
"I know."
"I know you know. You knowing isn't the problem. You acting on your knowledge is the problem. My choices are limited—your choices are limited. Long story short, Sasuke… you're going to therapy."
"Fine." He didn't want to, but who was he to argue? He looked at his father's tired, haggard face, feeling concern. His father wasn't exactly the best at handling his grief, either, but he just made it seem like it. At least he laughed on a regular basis. Sasuke couldn't even remember the last time he, himself, laughed. "Have you eaten?"
"Don't change the subject, Sasuke. You're going to therapy twice a week until this behavior changes. I will not see my son in prison. You wouldn't survive there. You're forty pounds underweight, you look sick, and you just don't have the mindset for it. They would take you and break you in a second. I still love you, even if you don't, and I don't want to see you going through something like that."
"Okay, Dad." He didn't know how to say 'I love you' back anymore. He knew he was broken, and he also thought that no amount of fixings in the world would ever put him back together. "When does it start?"
"I'm calling in the morning. Hopefully, sometime this week."
"Okay."
"Tomorrow, I'm going for drinks with a couple of friends. You're free to invite your own friends over, but I don't want you leaving the house for a damned thing. I'll call in at random to make sure you're still there." Friends? What friends did he have left? He hadn't talked to any of them in months. Sure, he had the occasional fuck buddy, but he didn't have anything else. He couldn't see his real friends. Sure, they called, they left messages; but he didn't—no, that wasn't the correct word; he couldn't respond. The only one of his 'friends' he saw on a regular basis was Naruto, and it was not by choice. Naruto worked at the police station, and he was there too often for him to avoid him. It wasn't like they talked or chatted. He had a huge fight the night of Itachi's funeral with Naruto, and neither of them had talked since, really.
They had all kind of dispersed after that—Chōji went to France to learn 'the art of food', as he called it. Hinata was studying architecture at a college up north. Shikamaru was south at law school. Sasori and Deidara ditched town five months ago for America. Hidan was currently without an address or cell phone; the freaky little nomad. Shisui was a detective, and almost always on duty. The only people from his old life he saw on a regular basis were Naruto, Minato, Kakashi, and his father.
"Okay."
"When we get back home, clean all that shit off your face and go to bed. I would tell you to eat something, but you'd just refuse anyways."
"Okay."
Fugaku sighed and put the key into the ignition. "No, it's not okay."
"I know." But what else is there to say, Dad? What else is there to say? Especially when I'd been the one who told you to be strong? Especially since I was the one who wanted to get over 'Tachi? What the hell else is there left to say?

Naruto opened the bathroom stall and slid in, leaning his forehead against the cold metal. Every damned time he saw Sasuke, he hoped it would be different. He hoped Sasuke—or himself—would say sorry and all would be forgiven. But, honestly… he couldn't forget. How does one just forget? How does one even begin to forget?
Naruto grabbed his throbbing skull and slid to a crouch, closing his blue eyes tight and rocking back and forth. He wanted to apologize. He wanted things to go back to how they once were. But he didn't know how that could even begin. He didn't know where to start. Tears dripped down his face, both from the pain and from the sadness wrenching at his heart. He'd lost so much last year. He lost his mother to a disease referenced to as the Fox's Bite—her internal organs just shut down; all of them, slowly, painfully, and right before his eyes. And not even twenty-four hours later, he lost Itachi, who he couldn't even begin to think about without feeling pain. And then, finally, he'd lost his first and best friend, Sasuke, to a stupid-as-fuck argument over what Itachi had said to him in his last moments. He kept denying that he said anything, but Sasuke knew—he somehow just knew.
But it was private. How could he just tell Sasuke something so private? It wasn't something Sasuke could just hear. It was just for him, all for him. He bit his lip as he began to sob, his fingers brushing against his whisker-shaped scarred cheeks. He had done it about four weeks after the funerals, when all he wanted to do was die. And he tried by cutting the crap out of his face—a weak attempt, he knew, but it did bleed a lot—in addition to his wrists. But it hadn't worked. All it left him with was those whisker-like scars, a constant reminder of his failure to even be able to commit suicide the right way.
He knew Itachi was probably disappointed in him for leaving things so wrecked, but he didn't know where to even begin to fix it. He was never very good at knowing these kinds of things. Just the thought of the raven-haired Uchiha made him hurt more, and he resisted the urge to crumple into a ball and cry harder. It would only make things worse. He couldn't do it—he had to avoid doing it.
He rolled up the sleeves of his blue uniform, revealing his scar-and-scab covered wrist. He immediately set to work, running his fingernails across his wrist, breaking the skin and drawing small amounts of blood. It wasn't the drops he spilled he was going for—it was the pain. The only way for him to deal with the heartache was to cause himself pain. Physical pain was the only escape from the mental pain.
Itachi, why… he thought as he continued to scrape at his skin, tears running off his face and into the wounds he was causing himself. Why did you have to leave me? Was I bad to you? Was I not good enough for you, Itachi? Why? Naruto ripped off toilet paper off of the roll, pressing against his bloodied wound as his normal thought came back to him.
Two months of progress, right down the bloody toilet.
He wished he could tell Sasuke to pull himself together, but he lacked the right to do so. None of them were together—none. Losing Itachi had hit them all hard. Itachi was like an older brother to all of them—well, a bit more for him, to be completely honest.
Itachi's necklace was warm around his neck, and he touched it gently through his shirt. No one knew he had it. Everyone had though it just got lost in the bowels of Itachi's room. He knew as well as he knew that the sky was blue that Sasuke would hate him if he knew that he had his brother's necklace. If he knew, he'd have to explain why he had it, and how he'd come to have it. He didn't want to tell anyone why Itachi had given him something he'd been given the day he was born, why Itachi had chosen him to give it to. If he did, he was worried there would be issues. Actually, no. He knew there would be issues, and he didn't want to hear them.
A phone ringing stole him from his thoughts, and took a minute to figure out it was his phone. Slowly, he reached into his pockets, wiping his eyes in order to look at the small LCD screen of the ancient Blackberry he had. Frowning deeper at the realization of the caller, he accepted the call, holding it to his ear. "S-Shika?"
Shikamaru's lazy voice was uncharacteristically high and it sounded scared. "Naru. Hey. Listen… do you think I could crash at yours for a while?"
His brow furrowed. "C-Crash at mine? Why? A-Aren't you at school?"
"Um… was. I'll tell you about it later. Can you just… can you just pick me up from the train station? I'm coming home. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Please?"
"Shika, w-what about your dad? And how did you find a train at this hour? I-It's nearly two AM."
"D-Don't worry about that, man. Just pick me up. I'll explain it you later, and I'll tell my dad eventually. Just… just not tonight. I cannot tell him tonight. Please, Naruto please let me stay at your flat, until I can figure out what to do." Naruto bit his lip, but he stood up, rolling down his sleeve to hide his scabbing wrist, opening the door to the stall. "Naruto?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. I'm coming to get you right now. I just need to sign out for the night at work, and I'll be there. I promise."
"Thank you, Naru. Thank you."
"No problem, Shika. Just… this is highly suspicious. Are you okay?"
Shikamaru sighed. "No. I'm not okay. I've fucked up Naruto. But… but I don't wanna talk about it over the phone. I wanna talk about it at your flat, with you and you alone, not to you and all these troublesome nosy fucks on this train with me. Just get here soon, okay, Naru? I need you." He sounded so desperate that Naruto already feared the worse. "Please hurry."
"Okay, Shika. Okay. I'll hurry."
"Thank you, Naru. Thank you."

Shikamaru brought the cigarette shakily to his lips, the cold winter airs seemingly compressing him, making him want to curl up and die right there on the bench. It was a wondrous option, but he knew that it would worry Naruto, considering he was the only person who knew he was here, so he didn't curl up or die—he simply kept slowly killing himself with the cigarette as a nice substitute. He wondered where exactly he went wrong with his life, but he knew that it would only hurt to wonder. Besides, he knew exactly where his life went to shit. But it wasn't something he could just fix. He didn't know how to.
"Shika."
He flinched, looking up at the blond-haired scarred male standing above him, his blue eyes betraying no emotion. He tossed his cigarette to the side, grabbing his duffle bag and wrapping his arms around his friend, happier than anything to see him. He did his best to hide his nervous twitch, but he knew it wasn't working. It was too aggressive. He just hoped that Naruto was as unobservant as he was when they were younger. "Naru. Naru. You came."
"You're smoking. You said you'd quit. You told Itachi you quit," Naruto muttered.
"I know what I told him, Naruto. Let's not argue, okay? I don't want to argue with anyone." Naruto pulled back slightly, looking him in the eyes before he looked at him up and down. Shikamaru was in the process of gauging his ears, it seemed, and it looked like he'd pierced his nose. The ponytail he remembered wasn't there—instead, his hair was down to his shoulders, and a beanie was shoved onto his head, doing nothing to keep him warm.
"You look different. You look…" Homeless. Sick. Tired. Beaten-down.
"Yeah, Naru, I know exactly how I look. Let's go. Please?" Naruto blinked and nodded, pulling away completely and grabbing Shikamaru's other duffle bag as the Nara picked up his backpack, the two of them quickly making it out to Naruto's beat-up old Camry, throwing his stuff in the back seat before they both clamored into the front. "God. It did not get any warmer up here, did it?"
"It's wintertime, Shika. You're the one who left for the south for school. Speaking of, shouldn't you be there?" Shikamaru turned on Naruto's heater, blasting it fully in an attempt to ignore his blond friend. "Shika. School. Law. Aren't you supposed to be doing these things right now?" Shikamaru leaned in further, trying to warm up his cheeks and stop his dripping nose. Naruto got impatient. "Shikamaru, AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE IN FUCKING LAWSCHOOLRIGHT NOW?!" he screamed, his face turning red.
"I haven't been in school for four months, Naruto!" he finally snapped, turning to Naruto. "Okay? I dropped out of school four months ago. Now can we please go to your fucking flat? It's fucking freezing out here, and I just want to sleep on a bed I recognize for a night before I tell my parents. I want to be in the company of friends, and Sasuke doesn't have a phone anymore, and Chōji's all the way in fucking wherever studying food and shit, and Hinata refuses my calls now—"
"Why is she refusing your calls? What's wrong?"
"Just…" Shikamaru leaned back in the seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Naruto. Please stop asking me these fucking questions. Please. I'll tell you, just please. Just fucking drive to your flat. I'm tired and I'm depressed and I really just need a bloody friend right now, which I have an extremely limited amount of. So, please, Naruto, can we please just go to your flat, at which point I'll answer every question you have. Please." Shikamaru twitched—which, Naruto noted, was the fifth or so time he did in the past two minutes.
"Are you on drugs, Shika?" he asked softly.
"Naruto! Please! I'll tell you everything! Please, can we go to your fucking flat?!" he begged. Naruto blinked, but nodded. Whatever was wrong with Shikamaru, it was bad. He could tell. He put the car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot faster than he knew he should, but with the way Shikamaru was acting, he knew that quicker was better than adhering to the law. Shikamaru settled down into the seat next to him, pulling his legs into his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Naruto hadn't completely noticed how skinny Shikamaru had gotten until he'd done that, and now he did, he also noticed how dirty his skin was. Shikamaru looked like he'd been homeless for the better part of fifteen years, and paired with his twitchiness and mood changes… Naruto already had his answers.
Shikamaru was on hard drugs, and he was the very definition of lost.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," she begged under her breath, biting her fingernails as she stood in the only phone booth for miles, her pale lavender eyes looking from side to side. She had already lost seventy-five cents of the three dollars she had in her pocket just calling random numbers she knew, and she needed the other two dollars for something. She didn't know exactly what she could possibly pay for with two dollars, but she knew she had her limitations.
"Hello?"
"Big brother?" she asked, nearly crying with relief.
"H-Hinata? Is that you? This isn't your cell."
"N-No. It's not. I don't have my cell anymore."
"Where is it?"
Probably with the rest of my stuff, back on the highway by my school, where I ditched it with my car. "I-It's a long story, big brother, but I-I need a ride first. C-Can you pick me up?"
"Pick you up? Where are you? Why aren't you at school?"
"L-Long story, big brother. I-I'm just outside of the city, but I can't get a ride and I've only got two dollars with me and I'm scared…" Scared was the understatement of the century, but knowing Neji, he was already worrying enough. Petrified would have him calling the cops, and she was afraid of getting the police involved with the situation.
"Calm down, calm down. Tell me where you are? Are you at the rest stop on the interstate, Hinata?"
"N-No. Do you remember the Seven-Eleven by that park that Daddy used to take us to as kids?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.
"Yeah. I know. There was a Duane Reade across the street, right? Big street? The Seven-Eleven's on the corner of the intersection, right?"
"R-Right," she said, her fear dripping into her voice and causing her stutter. It was usually a good area in the daylight, but right now it wasn't, and it was scaring her more than she was already. Creepy men watched her from the gas station next to the Seven Eleven, their beady eyes undressing her with their eyes. Hot flashes of another person doing what these men wanted only increased her fear. Not again not again not again not again NOT FUCKING AGAIN—
"Okay, okay, calm down, little sister. Shh. Shh. It's okay. I'm on my way. I'm getting my keys right now. Do you want to stay on the phone with me? Can you stay on the phone with me?"
"I-If I keep paying. I'm at a-a phone b-booth, big b-brother, and there's people staring at me f-from across the s-street and I—"
"Shh, shh, calm down, little girl. I'll be there. Go to the Seven-Eleven. Buy yourself something to eat. I don't care what. Just buy something to justify why you're staying in the store until I get there. If I drive fast, I'll probably be there in thirty minutes, traffic permitting. Do you think you'll be okay for thirty minutes, little sister?"
"I-I think s-so. T-Thank you, N-Neji, thank y-you…"
"It's no problem, my precious little sister. I'm in the car now. I'm gonna hang up now. Go into the Seven-Eleven. I'll be there soon. I love you. Be safe."
"I-I will. I-I love you, t-too, b-big b-brother."
"Okay. Go now."
Hinata hang up the phone and picked up her backpack from the floor by her feet, jumping out of the booth and running across the street, trying to ignore the predators staring at her as she went into the Seven-Eleven, her breathing heavy as she ran to the back, picking up a bag of chips for purchase. Thankfully, they were one-seventy-five—usually what she would consider to be an obscene price, but she didn't argue—and went by the door, eating quickly and nervously to settle her stomach, which hadn't stopped turning since the beginning of this entire horrible night. She was afraid, but not of the perverts outside, but of something coming for her… looking for her…
By some grace of God, Neji made it there in twenty-five minutes in his silver Volvo. She picked up her bag again, running outside and crashing into her adoptive brother as soon as he stepped out of the car. Surprised, it took a moment for Neji's mind to catch up and return the frantic hug, gripping at Hinata's jacket and kissing her temple, incredibly worried. She looked more frantic and afraid than she had seemed on the telephone—and bruised. There were bruises up and down her neck, as well as on the edge of her lips. And was it—split? Who was hitting her? He was confused as to what happened, but when she began to cry into Neji's shirt, he immediately let it go, tightening his grip on the scared girl's clothing. "I've got you, Hinata. I've got you. Shh, Hinata, don't cry. Don't cry. I've got you, Nata."
"Neji, I'm scared," she whispered, burying her face against the fabric of Neji's leather jacket, which was nowhere near enough for the cold weather, but at this juncture, he didn't care. He'd never seen Hinata so scared before. She usually handled everything so well; it took a lot to scare her. Whatever happened, it must've really terrified. And whoever hit her… "I wanna go home, Neji, I wanna go home."
"Shh, I know. C'mon, let's go home. Uncle Hiashi will be happy to see you after so long. Let's go home, Hinata." She nodded against his jacket, but she refused to let go. Sighing, he picked her up, carrying her around the car and placing her gently into the shotgun seat, forcing her to let go as he buckled her in. As soon as he was in his own seat, she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly over the console. Considering she was so scared, he allowed it, whispering soothing words. What else was there to be said? "Shh, Hinata. It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

Lyrics from "Violence [Enough is Enough]" by A Day to Remember (2012, from the yet-to-be-released album 'Common Courtesy').
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The Ripple Effect