I stood in a windowless room.

It was dark, so much so that I could barely see the walls despite it being such a small room. I tried to move and the chains binding my body held me immobile, cold metal against my cold skin. There was a candle in the middle of the room, set in a silver candle-stick holder that flickered to a stormy grey when I blinked. The yellow flame itself was small and weak, barely illuminating the room, but to my eyes it was the brightest thing I'd ever seen. I longed for this light in a way that was almost painful, a vice around my chest that crushed with every breath I took.

This light, my light, was all that mattered in this empty world. I loved it with a fierceness that clawed at my heart, a protective instinct that cried for the blood of those who would wish it harm. I was locked in this darkness, but I was content as long as my light remained. The flame giggled and laughed, and an image of trusting eyes and gold hair and a beaming smile danced through my mind.

Suddenly the shadows in the room coalesced into a hunched being, all jagged edges and eyes – hundreds of eyes dotting its malformed body. It stepped towards the flame and I screamed and the flame screamed (leave her alone leave her alone leaveheraloneleaveheralone) and the shadow laughed and CELI-

I jerked awake, breaths coming in shuddering gasps as I stared into the darkness. It took me a second to recognise it as my bedroom, and when I did my eyes slid shut wearily, panic abating as my heart slowed from its frantic beat.

Nightmares…I hasn't really suffered from them in this life, and though my younger years were plagued by them once I reached my twenties they were few and far between. And to dream of that, of all things. How cruel my subconscious was. It was enough to make me grin.

Before I realised it I was once more asleep.

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"Yes, kaa-san."

"Your notebook? Pencils? Pens? Kunai? Shuriken?"

"Yes, kaa-san."

"What about your bento?"

"I have it, kaa-san."

"You didn't put it at the bottom of your backpack, did you? And your weapons, you made sure to pack them away carefully so you don't cut yourself?"

With a sigh I regarded Mikoto with exasperation. "They're blunt, remember? You did buy them."

Today I was starting the Academy, where I would spend the next compulsory six years learning how to be a shinobi. It would be my first day at a Konoha school; many children went to the civilian school when they were four or five in order to learn basic skills, implemented due to the large number of orphans who had no parents to teach them how to read and write, or if they did have parents they were often too busy with work. However, since I was an Uchiha with a retired parent Mikoto had taken up the duty of 'teaching' me in preparation for the Academy for the last year, unnecessary as it was. Faking a lower intelligence was tedious at the best of times, and it made me all the more grateful for Itachi's company since I didn't have to hide. Or, at least not to the same extent.

But Itachi had been going on a lot more missions lately, often being gone for days and returning exhausted, though he did his best to hide it. I knew that it was because he'd joined the ANBU, but it was annoying all the same. I hastily stifled the part of me that expressed concern (he can't die he can't die not like her he can'tcan'tcan't-) over the obvious danger he faced.

It was odd to think that I'd be in a genin team at the same age that Itachi was an ANBU captain. Last year the Hokage had passed a law declaring that the minimum age for advancing to genin was twelve years, reasoning that child soldiers weren't necessary in a time of peace. There'd been some protests from shinobi and even civilians who were enamoured with the idea of child genii, and didn't want them to waste away in school when they could be of better use serving the village. However there was enough support from concerned adults and jaded shinobi that the act was passed, though even if there had been stronger objections as Hokage he still could've enforced it.

If I hadn't been expecting it I might've been annoyed that I'd have to spend so long in the Academy when I was fully capable of passing the exam much earlier, but I'd long since resigned myself to it, for the sake of canon if nothing else. It would be a shame to lose such a useful advantage. I wanted to stick to the story until at least the Chuunin Exam Arc, since there was very little I could gain by changing much before that time. The formation of Team Seven and its various misadventures was something I was willing to go along with, as my survival was unlikely to be put into too much danger as long as I followed the 'script'.

I could've attempted to become a genin much earlier – if I showed myself to be a prodigy on the level of Itachi and Shisui then the clan's demands might be enough to force and exception to be made – but I simply didn't see the point. It may have gotten me access to higher level jutsu and techniques that I could learn, and teachers who could vastly improve my skills, but I wasn't prepared to pay the price.

I didn't want to become just another tool of the village or the clan, as expendable as any other shinobi. I didn't want to risk my life on increasingly dangerous missions for the sake of people I didn't give a damn about. I didn't want people scrutinising my every action, pressurising me to improve for their sake and drafting me as just another faceless weapon. In the long run, didn't I benefit more from keeping my skills a secret until such a time that they were needed?

Besides, in about two years the Uchiha Massacre would occur, firmly cementing my value as the last supposedly loyal Uchiha of Konoha. There would be no chance of Danzou managing to whisk me away to his little band of brainwashed puppets, or plucking my eyes out in his frankly pathetic scramble for power, as may occur if I brought too much attention to myself when I was so disposable.

Admittedly, I'd considered attempting to save the clan a few times. There were many talented shinobi amongst their ranks, and even if I was the 'spare' I was still the son of the clan head, which meant that many would be glad to train me if I requested. The Uchiha had been shinobi for generations, surviving the Shinobi World Wars and the Warring States Period with their numbers rarely dwindling to the extent that they were endangered, unlike many other clans who declined. The Uchiha had always kept things within the clan, accepting new blood only to avoid the negative impact of interbreeding, and ensuring that the Uchiha blood did not leave the control of the clan.

Their isolationist values and arrogance were not something I was particularly proud of, but I did acknowledge that such methods were effective in developing techniques and jutsu that rarely left the clan. Observation could allow one to recreate them of course, but such things as the Yamakaji fighting style which constantly evolved through the generations was one best learnt at the source. I would prefer to have an instructor well-versed in the style, but I supposed I could make do with the various scrolls describing the technique that every shinobi family owned, as well as my own scrutiny. It wasn't suspicious for a young boy inspiring to be a shinobi to watch his clansmen spar and train, after all. The awe-filled praises certainly helped, show-offs that the majority of the Uchiha were. Not that I wasn't guilty of such dramatics either.

"Sorry, Sasuke-chan," Mikoto crouched down in front of me, pausing in her fretting. It placed her neatly at eye-level, and I found myself staring into black eyes. It was something the members of my family, even Fugaku, had started to do when they discovered my fascination with the eyes of members of my clan. They seemed to find it amusing, and I would've protested if it weren't for the fact that I found them so interesting.

The Uchiha eyes weren't a dark brown or even grey; they were a solid black, iris all but indistinguishable from the pupil. The impossibility had caught my attention back when I was a toddler, and I'd whine incessantly if the person whose eyes I was currently examining looked away. They were willing to indulge me even now when I no longer put up a fuss, and I grew used to reading their eyes for emotion rather than simply their faces and voice.

Mikoto's eyes expressed her worry, faint sadness and pride all at once; out of my family she was by far the most emotive. "I just want everything to go well on your first day. Be careful and make some friends, okay?"

I nodded with a reassuring smile, interjecting just the right amount of excitement and nervousness into my expression. "Okay!" I wish Itachi was the one taking me to the Academy instead, but he'd been out on another mission for the past week and wasn't due back yet. Playing the part of a child all the time was exhausting, however much I was used to it.

Sitting on a bench in the back row in a room of squealing, shouting and laughing children, I restrained the urge to leap out of the closest window.

I didn't mind children, true, but that was concerning two or three at once. Thirty-seven six-year-olds all excited to begin training as shinobi, their youth empowering them with a hyperactivity that put caffeinated squirrels to shame? That was another matter entirely.

They had started out quiet enough, staring near-reverently at the Hokage as he made his speech whilst we stood attentively before him like the little soldiers we would soon be trained to be. A few fidgeted from time to time but they remained quiet, overwhelmed by their awe of the so-called Shinobi no Kami and his impassioned talk of the Will of Fire that supposedly burnt within each of them. It was clear that they lapped up his every word. The effectiveness of Konoha propaganda was truly impressive.

Anyway, the eighty or so children were separated into two groups and led to their classrooms by their teacher for the year. Within the next three years fifty percent would drop out in favour of the civilian school, a further thirty percent following them before the final year. These had the choice of signing up for the less-intensive Shinobi Training Facility that trained those who would fill up the majority of the genin ranks, a few managing to make it to chuunin if they were lucky enough to catch the attention of a jounin.

The class I had been assigned to contained the children who belonged to the shinobi clans, the offspring of a shinobi of at least chuunin rank, and those civilians who displayed some sort of talent (such as high chakra control, some fighting ability, exceptional intelligence, et cetera) on the test civilians were required to take in order to enter the Academy. Anyone related to a shinobi was automatically accepted with the assumption that their lineage gave them higher qualification, holding especially true to clan children.

However, the fact that they had more potential than the other class did not exempt them from the unfortunate consequences of 'being a six-year-old'. They were far too young to realise the responsibility and inherent darkness of being a shinobi; rather, they were all excited to be learning 'super awesome jutsu'. I specifically heard a boy on the bench in front of me regaling a tale to his enraptured group about his sister – who was apparently a jounin – taking on a hundred Iwa-nin in a battle that sent them 'crying for their mommies'. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, which the kid caught going by the completely unthreatening glare he was shooting at me.

"What are you laughing at?" he demanded, puffing up beneath my bored gaze. With brown hair and blue eyes he didn't have any of the distinctive features predominant in clan children, so I guessed he was the kid of a shinobi. It accounted for the hero-worship in his voice and the obvious exaggeration when he talked about his sister; children from clans were less likely to boast since it wouldn't impress anyone else within the clan when they were likely related to someone who had achieved an even more impressive feat.

"If your sister really did fight Iwa-nin, I doubt that they'd have run away," I stated dully. I blamed my boredom on this indulgence; we'd been given an hour to get to know each other and I wasn't too keen on playing nice with uninteresting brats who likely wouldn't be here by the time of graduation.

Oh, I'd spotted a few canon characters. Even though I only knew their animated counterparts and was far more familiar with their design at an older age, I could still pick them out with reasonable accuracy. For example, Ino sat by a brunette near the front of the room, Shikamaru and Choiji were together by the window, I saw a flash of pink hair on the second row, and I was pretty sure that was Hinata covering her distinctive eyes with her hair in the corner.

I didn't see the point in attempting to befriend them. The script certainly didn't require that I do so – from what I'd seen in Naruto the Rookie Nine weren't the biggest fans of Sasuke, exempting the fangirls – and I didn't think Sasuke actually had any friends in his Academy days anyway. If he could get away with it and still come off as an ordinary child, then so could I. There was some worth in making allies, but at this point it simply wasn't worth the effort. None of the clan heirs could offer me influence that I didn't already have or would soon gain as the last Uchiha, except perhaps Hinata since the Hyuuga were on par with the Uchiha in terms of standing, but her lack of self-confidence meant she would never be taken seriously. I just didn't see how I could benefit from playing nice with the kiddies. In the long run I didn't plan on staying in Konoha, anyway.

The bragging boy bristled at my comment. "Nee-san is super strong! They didn't stand a chance against her-"

"You're not listening," I interrupted, propping my elbow up on the table and resting my chin in my hand. "I said that they wouldn't be running away."

The brunet's brow furrowed in confusion. He opened his mouth but I continued, "They'd be dead. The dead can't scream for their mommies, after all."

Bragging boy – and the children around him – paled just a tad. Yes, I was well aware that I was acting nothing like a normal kid, but damn it felt good. Acting so nice and cheerful and childish all the time – it made me want to demand Itachi hurry up and slaughter the clan so I could do a one-eighty and blame it on the trauma. I had good self-control but being a kid again was taking its toll on me, especially so with Itachi being away so much. The tension made me want to lash out, immature as it was.

Was it risky acting this way? Not particularly. The teacher wasn't paying much attention and we sat at the back of the room, everyone else's conversations drowning what I said out. There were no important characters nearby who might remember my attitude at an inopportune moment, or mention something to their influential parents. Just a few nobodies who would either drop out or bulk up the background. Besides, they were six; in a few years they wouldn't even remember.

"N-nee-san doesn't kill." Hm? It seemed bragging boy had found his voice. He stared at me with determination in his innocent blue eyes. "Nee-san protects people. She's a hero-"

I laughed harshly at that, cutting off what would've surely been quite the naïve (naïve so naïve pretty blue eyes so trusting so innocent don't hurt her don'thurther!) spiel. Once again I applauded Konoha's propaganda prowess. Hiding killers behind the masks of heroes and protectors, making the other villages believe that Konoha was weak with their values of teamwork and the Will of Fire…they had quite the talented PR department.

Everyone knew to expect a Kiri-nin to be vicious and bloodthirsty, to never turn your back on a Suna-nin, and to expect revenge from an Iwa-nin. But Konoha…Konoha was good and bright and kind. Konoha was peaceful and benevolent, and made all the weaker by it. Konoha sheaved its claws so efficiently that only those who knew power in all its illusions and falsity could understand the extent of Konoha's danger. For what was more dangerous than a shinobi who never doubted his orders, saw the guise to be truth and believed?

"Hero, huh?" I murmured, eyes slipping closed ("You monster! I'll kill you! I'll rip you apart-" "He's not a monster! He saved me, he's a hero! You don't understand-"). "Such a pretty lie." I've never believed in heroes, not even in my first childhood. For a true hero to exist there could be no humanity in them, no fallibility or selfishness, no conscience of self or identity. How could anything so flawless as a hero exist without becoming a monster just as easily? It's all a matter of perspective really. One man's hero is another's monster, one man's truth is another's lie.

Ah, I was rambling. Such thoughts were pointless and only led me around in endless circles of nonsensical questions and answers. I always did enjoy Philosophy though. Learning what people believed in and why had always interested me, even if I couldn't understand them at all. Things like faith and morals were never something I'd managed to grasp, lingering tauntingly outside my comprehension. Maybe I was better off that way, maybe not. It didn't change anything.

"It isn't a lie!" Protested the bragging boy, fists clenched as he stood and glared down at me. "Nee-san is a real hero!"

"Bored," I sighed and looked away. Bragging boy was no longer of any interest, so I turned my gaze to the window, blocking out his spluttering. I could see a field with targets set up along the far edge near a small forest, where a class of older students were practising with shuriken. A black-haired boy in a red shirt missed his target completely much to the amusement of his brunet companion. A girl in a yellow jacket managed to cut herself and was fussed over by her blond friend, whilst a dark-haired girl scoffed in derision and went back to throwing her shuriken with perfect accuracy. I doubted we'd even begin using weapons until next year at least.

When the hour was up our teacher – Hiroki-sensei – gave a short speech on what we would be covering this year. The first year would be primarily composed of the subjects generally taught in civilian schools - History, Maths, writing skills and the like – with the addition of basic exercise to start building up muscles. The students were too young for strenuous training, and too immature to understand what they had so happily signed up for. Discussions on war tactics and the most efficient way to kill a man could wait.

Hiroki began the actual lesson with a lecture on the founding of Konoha, emphasizing the brutality of the Warring Era and the ingenuity of Senju Hashirama's vision of peace (with a rather off-handed mention of Uchiha Madara's contribution – he couldn't praise the man who turned traitor after all). He talked about how the village had started out as only a few buildings at the base of a mountain, but had expanded at an alarming pace, attracting shinobi and civilians alike with the safety it offered. The idea of a shinobi village was startlingly successful, and the village had little trouble filling its ranks with eager shinobi.

It was sugar-coated – couldn't go traumatising the kiddies quite yet – but got the basic facts across, bringing up the negotiations with the various clans and the ruling daimyo of the time. Despite the obvious bias that painted Konoha in the best light possible I found it quite interesting; the books I'd read didn't go into much detail on the many treaties that had been drawn up and promises made.

The glazed eyes and lolling heads of the children around me told me I was in the minority. Though the chuunin tried to make it interesting it was a rather dry subject, especially to six-year-olds who just wanted to learn 'cool jutsu'. However I could see why he'd begun with this; already they were painting Konoha in a near glorified light, likely with the aim of inspiring these future Konoha-nin to be prepared to risk their lives for the sake of the village. No one would sacrifice themselves for a worthless cause, but to ensure the survival of Konoha, of their home that was a light in the darkness of the shinobi world? Such loyalty was valuable.

When Hiroki was finished with his lecture he set us to doing a maths test in order to judge what level we were at. It was likely tests such as these that had led to Itachi's acceleration through the Academy, since it placed him far ahead of those in his age group.

The questions themselves were simple; addition, subtraction, a smattering of multiplication and divisions, and a few more difficult (comparatively) to suss out the prodigies. I judged it to be slightly above the standard curriculum of six-year-olds in my former world, at least in the school I attended and from what I could remember.

I made my way leisurely though the two pages of questions, purposely taking longer and adjusting my handwriting to be more messy than usual, though still neat for a child. In the end I answered eighty-two percent of the questions correctly, made minor mistakes on a further ten and left the rest blank or obviously incorrect. I wanted to place myself at the top of the class, not at the level of Itachi or Kakashi who would've breezed through this. Drawing too much attention wasn't something I wanted to do at this point. It was far better to be seen as the young canon Sasuke had been; undoubtedly skilled but nowhere near the level of Konoha's genii. It was only after Sasuke deflected that he became a true powerhouse.

We handed the tests in and were given an hour to have lunch. I ate my bento quickly and ignored any attempts at conversation from my classmates, idly flicking through the textbook on Konoha's history Hiroki had handed out earlier this morning. It was simple enough for a child to understand and coloured Konoha in a favourable light, of course, glossing over details of corruption and cruelty that plagued every system at one point of another.

Now, I wasn't saying that Konoha was some evil, mocking shadow that somehow had everyone fooled. In comparison to the other villages Konoha was better in many ways. It had low poverty and unemployment with support even being offered to those worse off, and was one of the more technologically advanced villages with a healthcare system accessible to both civilians and shinobi. The civilians held the slight majority in terms of population but Konoha was very much a shinobi village, an autocracy with the Hokage at its head and a council of civilians and clan heads occasionally being called to advise him in certain economic, social or militaristic problems. There was a fair justice system and safeguards were put into place in case the Hokage was ever corrupted by his own power. The village didn't sent toddlers out to fight or employed brutal methods in order to get the best possible soldiers.

But that didn't mean everything was sunshine and rainbows. Trained killers were still trained killers, and no amount of speeches on the power of friendship could change that fact.

So, OC!Sasuke's a dick to children. When I started writing this that wasn't actually my intention, but my characters tend to have the annoying tendency of writing themselves. But don't worry, he's less of a little shit when he's older. Hopefully.

Another more expositional chapter; hope I didn't bore you. Sasuke has a weird thought process that likes to ramble and he had a very cynical view of the world, so yeah take that into account. He really isn't going to be interacting much with other kids his age until team seven forms, which shouldn't be too long away. The twists that aren't quite twists will begin around Chuunin Exam arc.

Any questions are always welcome, and reviews are a great way to get me writing – I keep getting distracted by other half-started stories (e.g. Jinchuuriki!Kinda Time Travel!Sakura, ExplosionObsessed!Team Seven, dark gritty crazy SI!Fem!Sai, insane SI!OC!Uchiha survivor, and so on). Feedback always gives me ideas and helps inspire me. Still have no idea about pairings – or if there will even be one – so suggestions would be nice.

Oh, here's some translations;

Yamakaji – wildfire (specifically 'threat of wildfire'). Couldn't think of a better name for the Uchiha fighting style but thought it fit well enough with their usual fire-nature.