Nine Lives/ NaruSasuNaru / Rated T - slight language, sexual themes / No More Masquerade

It's all so crazy. One day I name a black cat Sasuke, and the next it turns into a little boy that looks like Sasuke's kid, or something. It's not possible: people don't come back from the dead.

NaruSasu!CatNaru. Rated T - language and sexual themes.

Jesus, I hate writing summaries. They never make the story sound appealing. - NMM

Prologue - The Cat Under the Umbrella

"All that live must die, passing through nature to eternity." Sai looked up from his book. "William Shakespeare said that."

I nodded. People have to go sometime. People are as delicate and fragile as the flowers and the insects. People die, people kill themselves, and people are killed. "Eternity?" I asked, looking up into Sai's eyes.

"The dictionary says—" Sai began, pulling out his notes.

"I don't care about the dictionary," I grumbled. "But this eternity; what is it, heaven?"

Sai inhaled deeply before speaking. "I'm not sure. I only know what I've read."

I shook my head. This William guy didn't say anything about when people should die, or even where they go.

"Well, wherever Sasuke is," I said softly, "I miss him."

NMM

I awake with a powerful yearning to go for a walk. I wish to mingle with the people in the streets, to look up and see the blue sky and white clouds, cut into a puzzle piece by the tree tops and tops of buildings. I want to smell the bustling life of the town and to feel the familiar sweeping glance of everyday life. I want to be there, in the moment, down in the streets, living life in the shops and the crowds, then and there. I want to experience again that city zeal.

Opening my eyes to the ceiling above my bed, I feel the city surging up from down below. I sit up and look out the window, like kids do on Christmas morning to see the holiday snow.

The street is empty but for the mud and puddles. Rain slides down the glass in front of me.

I sit at the kitchen table with a bowl of Frosted Flakes and a quart of milk, the heavy clouds shrugging carelessly at me through the glass door leading to the patio. Sorry, gotta do what we gotta do. I drink the milk from my bowl of cereal.

"Whatever," I grumble, wiping a milk mustache on my shirt sleeve. Rain. Whatever.

After dressing, I find that my desire for a walk is still strong. The wet, empty streets and dark skies raise a sort of comfort in my stomach, as do the closed shops and pounding of rain on the rooftops and umbrella. Out the window, a single business man rushes by, checking his watch, his newspaper over head. Then the street is empty. I nod. Today is a day for a walk.

Outside, the shops are as empty as I imagined, several closed. The solitude of knowing that no one is looking at me, no one is out but me, is calming. First a man under his jacket passes by, and then a girl and her mother, both holding onto a large green umbrella.

Now I'm alone. At first it's nice, not talking to anyone, not working or fighting, not even thinking all that much. Soon, however, that all wears away, and I'm brought back to earth.

I'm bored. There's nothing to do. I twirl my umbrella and watch the rain drops swirl around me. Perhaps I should visit someone. The solitude hasn't worn off, so this holds no interest with me. Maybe I'd find something to do at one of the training grounds. Doubtful. There's nothing to do. I'm bored.

I step under an awning and sit on the edge of a barrel of plums for sale. The rain collides with the street as if it were a shower of tiny planets. I sigh and stick my toe under the sheet of water draped over the edge of the roof. The water pours through my sandal and out the heel. The sole squishes as I pull my foot away. I make a face.

"Don't sit there, kid! What do you think you're doing?"

I turn to the door of the shop where some guy, who is clearly the shop manager, is sticking his head out.

"Whatever," I snap, standing and taking a few steps around the corner of the building. To my surprise, the awning is wider here. I sit in the dirt and kick dry dust into the down pour.

A sound reaches my ears, and I turn to look down the alley, assuming the manager has come around the back of the building to chew me out.

"What?" I start, before realizing no one is there.

I frown and stare a while longer. At this point in my life, my ears are as sharp as they will ever be, hardly easy to deceive. Any tap, any crack, any creak could be danger, an enemy, even death.

A cat steps out from behind a collapsing cardboard box and scoots under the awning. We're silent as he begins to lick the wet fur on his back.

I reach out to him and click my tongue several times. "Hi, kitty."

He looks up at me with eyes curiously dark for a cat—his pupils, now round in the darkness of the downpour, are hardly distinguishable from their flat, empty backdrop. I frown a little, and for a moment he stops cleaning himself to stare back at me, but this is very short lived.

"Hey," I say, reaching closer until my fingers are under his nose. I wait for him to smell me and rub his head on my hand. He does so, but only to move my hand out of the way.

During the next few minutes, I wile away my boredom by luring the cat closer to me. He's quiet and supposedly uninterested, sniffing at the wall as if it were the object of his attention, occasionally rubbing his jaw against the rough rock, but his sideways glances give him away, and by the time he's close enough that I feel his whiskers against my upper arm, I can hear him purring in satisfaction.

"Purring? I haven't even pet you yet," I laugh, finally stroking his delicately small, sleek black head. He leans his head into the palm of my hand, and a sensation of adoration prickles at my toes. "Ah, what a sap. You're pretty cute," I say, grinning and scratching behind his papery ear.

However, once I say this, he snaps at my hand, though his purring does not cease*. I frown, and for a moment, he's doing all of the work, merrily rubbing his face against my hand. I sigh and shake my head. Cats are weird, I think, stroking his back carefully. I hope cats can't read minds, though it seems likely, given the sharp glance out of the corner of the cat's eye.

When the rain is at its heaviest deluge, I recall that Kiba had offered to lend me his newest video game before he left on a mission. I nod to myself and pat the cat on the head one last time before standing and opening my umbrella.

"Sorry, man, time for me to go. Catch you around." I smile and step out into the muddy street.

I'm halfway to Kiba's before I notice. I look down at my feet to see how muddy my toes have become, when I see that there are two smaller sets of feet beside mine.

"Hey!" I exclaim, stopping in the middle of the road. "You followed me! What-?" I'm so bewildered by his intelligence in following under my umbrella that I have nothing to say. He simply looks up at me, waiting for me to continue. He shakes a paw, flicking mud off, and licks his toes. I look up at the top of my umbrella, exasperated. "Well, if you want to see Kiba, then fine. But you should know, he has, like, a bajillion dogs."

He just looks at me, his tail twitching against the rain as it reaches out into the torrent for a split second before swishing back under the protection of the umbrella.

"Some of them are humongous, like, way bigger than me. Kiba rides on some of them, actually, like Akamaru. One of them even has an eye-patch—sounds weird, huh? Are you sure you want to come?"

In the middle of my explanation, the cat looks away, watching a woman set books up in her store window. Once I'm quiet again, frowning down at him, he looks back up at me and butts his head against my leg. He mews once before jumping up and setting his muddy paws on my pant leg.

"You want me to carry you?" I grumble, kneeling down. He looks at me with excited eyes, and, with a sigh, I scoop him up in one arm and look to his face. He seems happy, resting his head on my shoulder. My lips twitch into a smile, and I continue down the road, the cat's tail painting mud across my jacket.

When we reach Kiba's, the cat simply lies still, purring loudly in my ear as a gang of dogs bark noisily at my feet. Kiba looks at me as if I'm crazy, and I really can't blame him.

"Your best idea yet, Naruto," he sneers, crossing his arms. "Where did this one come from?"

"I found him in an alley way next to that fruit and vegetable store on my street," I say, shaking my umbrella as I step onto Kiba's porch.

"I meant the idea, dufus," he sighs, motioning to the cat. "Why would you think bringing a cat here, of all places, would be smart? We eat things like that for protein, y'know."

The cat begins to growl, and I leave my umbrella on the porch, setting my hand on the cat's head as I step into the house. "He followed me," I say, holding him at arms length to smile at him. "He ducked under my umbrella and walked half the way here before I noticed him." I laugh and grin at Kiba. "Ain't he cool?"

Kiba rolls his eyes. "Some ninja; doesn't even notice there's a cat at his feet."

"Maybe he's a ninja cat!" I snap, setting the cat on the floor. The cat seems to agree with me.

"Ninja cat! What would you do with something like that? Have him bite someone's pinky? Now a dog, that's what you need, Naruto. Even a regular dog would be more useful that that fur-ball." He shoots a glare at the cat, who returns his dislike. "You know," he continues, picking up a half eaten sandwich from the seat of an arm chair, "we recently picked up a stray that we found wandering through the desert—how'd you like to take her home? She's really friendly and all. What d'ya say?"

I shrug. "I can't really afford to keep a dog," I say, watching as the cat sniffs around Kiba's feet. "I'm not even keeping this cat. And if I did, he can catch his own food—he's made it on his own all this time, so he'd be fine without me buying things for him. So, thanks, but no." I shrug.

"Cat people," Kiba grumbles, finally pulling out the video game. "This what you came for?"

"No, I came to have you tell me how dumb cats are," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

"Very dumb," he says, smacking the game into my chest. "Have fun." He eyes the cat sourly.

"Yeah, bye," I grumble, opening the umbrella on the porch. I call for the cat, and he comes trotting to me cheerfully, holding a dog bone in his mouth.

"Hey!" Kiba shouts, snatching the bone away and moving his hand just in time to avoid being scratched. "God," he growls as the cat circles behind me, growling and hissing. "Get that cat out of here.

"Nice seeing you," I say, lifting the cat by the scruff of the neck. He hangs limply from my fingers.

"Some defense system," Kiba grumbles before waving and shutting the door.

On the way home, I attempt to send the cat back to where he came from, but, of course, he follows, so I carry him up to my apartment and leave him outside the door. As I step in, he trots in before me, and I give up.

"I said I wasn't going to keep you, but if you're not going to go back to your home, then . . . " The forlorn look he gives me sends a pang of sorrow through my heart, and I can see somebody in him—the human he would be if he were to discontinue being a cat. I smile and pat his head. "Hey, don't look so down. As long as you feed yourself, you can stay." He stands and rubs up against my ankle. "We're sort of similar, eh? No family, no where to go . . . a little lonely. But I have plenty of friends, and now I'll be your friend too, and there you go."

I laugh as a thought strikes me. "It's sort of like when I made my first real friend, y'know. We were real similar, too, so I thought we would get along, but . . . " my smile slides from my face, "I guess . . . he was too angry with his life. He kept looking back and all, and I kept looking forward." I pause and sigh. "I guess that's where we became too different to be so close." I sniff and blink an eye to keep back a few tears. "Ah, I've done enough crying about that guy, though," I say as the cat nuzzles my knee. I stroke his back and look out the window. "When you're dead, you're dead. He . . . I guess he just made the wrong decisions." Tears well in my eyes.

It's been nearly a year since Sasuke was executed on terms that he was a missing-nin and planning to destroy Konoha, and then the five kages. It couldn't be helped—even Tsunade couldn't have avoided it. I think the worst part was that I was able to see him one last time. If I hadn't, I suppose I would have been left uneasy and guessing, but at least I would have been left feeling that he was just a different person, and that I had lost my real friend long before. But beneath his stony exterior was the same kid I knew once, just a little beaten up, a little wiser, a little stronger, and a little more lost than before. He finally explained to me about his past, and his brother, and the things he learned just before and after Itachi died. He said he was different than me because he had someone to blame, someone to punish—I was just me, and even now that I knew the truth of my past, there was little I could, or wanted to do about it.

To my surprise, he said he was sorry. He said, "I'm sorry that you had to wait around for this to happen." That was all. Not that he left, or that he betrayed us, or that he tried to kill so many different people. Not that he ruined our friendship, or that he hurt me so badly, or that he never made up for anything at all. Just that I tried to get him back only to have him executed when it happened. He was never a big talker.

"Well," I had said as I stood at the door, a guard calling me back, "you're still my best friend. Don't forget that."

The door was almost closed before he said, "Yeah . . . you are too."

That was the last time I heard him speak. Of course, I tried to break him out, but that didn't work out too well. I didn't want to hurt the guards of the prison of my own village, so I guess I was too soft. I also tried not to go to the execution, but my heart really wasn't into the whole avoidance thing, and I ended up getting there way too early, standing with my hands shaking as I gripped the side of the platform. I was so close that, when they brought Sasuke out, I could see the frosty air move out of his nostrils like a dragon. He stared at me the whole time, and I leaned over the platform, my chin resting on my crossed arms, tears pouring down my face, my nose dribbling pathetically. But I didn't care.

I was so close that a guard had to tell me to back up. I didn't, of course, and they decided to leave me be. I was so close that I could see the tears well in Sasuke's eyes before they fell, as he seemed to see some worth in living, though now, his life was at a close. I was so close that I was able to focus on Sasuke's face—now uneasy and clearly having second thoughts—and ignore the executioner. I don't even know how they were going to kill him, I focused so entirely on his face.

I was so close that I could tell that Sasuke didn't look away from me when someone shouted that they had proof to save him, so close that I could see that he didn't look away when the Hokage looked over the papers. So close that I could see him smile just slightly, before someone from the audience became fed up with waiting, and killed Sasuke themselves. I was so close that I was able to watch his eyes fade, his head tilt back. But I wasn't too close.

After that, all I can remember doing was crying, starting right there at the platform. I couldn't look away from Sasuke as the audience shrieked and the guards rushed for the person who had done the deed. I watched through a blurry film of water as Sasuke's pulse was checked and medical-nin were rushed onto the platform. Until he was carried away, I watched him, not realizing all the friends who had surrounded me, or the tears turning cold on my neck and arms.

After that I cried for over a week, then moped and cried for the entirety of three months. Kakashi and Iruka visited me every day, sitting down with me until I ate, and trying to talk some sense into me. Not until Sakura said to me, with tears in her eyes, "Sasuke is better off now . . . Wherever he is, there's no vengeance in him, no hatred." From there, I began to calm down, until I finally picked back up on my missions.

I'm still so . . . I think to myself as the cat rolls around on his back in front of me, so . . . lonely.

A tear trails down my face and I sigh, wiping it away. "Sasuke's gone," I tell myself, as I've done almost every day. "He's gone, dead, and somewhere else. Probably happier. And there's that."

The cat looks at me in bewilderment, and I laugh. "It's called crying," I say, petting his head, though his eyes lose none of their confusion. "We humans do it when we're down in the dumps. Or, sometimes, when we're very, very happy, or confused."

He pushes his head into my hand, no longer purring, and I slide my hand down is sleek, shiny back. "When I cry," I tell him, "I'm probably sad. Just so you know."

NMM

I ended up shamelessly naming the cat Sasuke. He knows I'm sad when I cry, and happy when I laugh. Sometimes I give him some of the broth from my ramen, but for some reason he doesn't like it all that much. He doesn't really like milk either, though he drinks it, on occasion. I'm not sure what he eats when he's out "hunting", but it doesn't appear to be mice. I read (or, actually, Sai read to me) that cats inherently can't taste sweet things, so it's rather surprising to see that Sasuke enjoys to get into my sugar dish, and accepts candy and pastries gratefully. I assume he must be a five year old on the inside. His favorite thing to do is practice his hunting on my feet. He also likes to hide and make me find him. There are odd moments when he will sit and mew at me endlessly, as if he were saying something, but I find that he stops if I pet him. Other than this, he doesn't meow all that much, though he plays constantly. I wonder if he would relax if I got him fixed, but I just can't bring myself to degrade him in that way.

I find that he's filling up a hole that was beginning to grow smaller. I think I like having a cat.

To Be Continued.

*Honestly, can any other cat owners tell me if this happens to them? It's happened to me with my own cats and other people's cats—they're content with staring at you or having you pet them, and then you say something mean to them, and it's like they understand you. That's how I got my first cat scratch. Man, cats are very creepy animals, although I love them.

Please don't stop reading just because Sasuke's dead! Ahh!

So, Sasuke's dead, but I don't get into the reasons and execution too much—I'm not sure, since I don't know what will happen in the manga—does Tsunade regain the position of Hokage, or does Danzo stay, or perhaps Kakashi will become Hokage, or do all the kages get killed, or what, what, what? So, Sasuke dies, which seems reasonable (except that I'm sure it won't happen), and that's that. But I did say that this is NaruSasuNaru, so please don't give up yet! Besides, I'm sure you guys can see where this is going. :)

Hope you enjoyed, and all serious criticism is accepted with open arms.

- No More Masquerade