When Sasuke woke up the next morning, he was tired, sore, and starving.

Actually, the hunger was what was really getting to him. His insides felt as if they were consuming themselves.

"I've gotta find something to eat," he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa. Instantly, his arm was on fire, and a major burning came from behind his eyes--

His eyes! He rushed back to the mirror, wondering what he'd see.

But when he leaned in to stare at his pupils--

Nothing. His eyes looked perfectly normal. He squinted, studying them. All he could see was the usual smoky onyx. Not a trace of red in sight.

Sasuke shook his head, wondering if he'd just been hallucinating from severe blood loss last night. It was possible.

Then he remembered his dream. It was really a memory, a memory that he'd long ago decided was unimportant, and stored it away at the back of his mind. But Sasuke was sure that he'd heard the word Sharingan before. He sat down on the floor, reaching deep back into his mind. Slowly, instances began flooding back to him, moments that he'd payed no attention to at the time. Now he realized they were the key to unlocking what was going on with him.

"Itachi!"

"What is it?"

"Y-your eyes! They looked...red for a second there."

"That was just the sunlight reflecting off of them, Sasuke. Don't say such silly things."

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Sasuke caught his mother staring at him with wide eyes while he was out practicing with his mock katana with Itachi.

"Mother? What is it?"

"Dear, you look a bit...tired. Why don't you take a break?"

"I'm fine, mom!"

"No! I said take a break! You're overdoing it!"

Sasuke grumbled and went to sit down. He caught his mother whispering something furiously to Itachi. "Didn't I tell you not to push him that far? When you do, IT starts to come out."

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"You wanna fight?"

He was fifteen now, cold and emotionless, facing two other boys in an alleyway.

"If you'd like to go home crawling, then I'd be happy to oblige you," he said monotonously.

Suddenly, one of them peered closer at Sasuke, narrowing his eyes. "What the..."

Sasuke took a step closer.

The other two boys glanced nervously at each other. "Never mind, we don't want any trouble! You devil kid!" They slowly backed away until they were out of sight.

Sasuke frowned, puzzled. "What was that all about?" Shrugging his shoulders, he walked away.

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Sasuke snapped back to the present, filled with revelation. It was as if something in his brain had clicked. He still didn't understand it fully, but it was making a bit more sense.

This "gift" that Orichimaru had spoken of must have been the Sharingan. As for what that was, he had a rough idea. It was some kind of eyepower that gave him enhanced senses or something. Either way, it was very useful, and he resolved to gain control over it.

It seemed to activate when he was angry or in danger. But not always, he realized, remembering Kaydee's death. The rage he'd felt then had been supreme, but his Sharingan hadn't awakened.

Sasuke pondered over what filth like Orochimaru might want it for. It obviously wasn't for the benefit of the people.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought of Sharingan out of his mind. He had more pressing matters to overcome at the moment. The first was treating his arm. Tenderly, he unwrapped the makeshift bandage from his arm. The cloth was soiled with dried blood that chipped and crumbled as he removed it.

Disposing of the dirty piece, he inspected the wound underneath. It wasn't as deep as he originally thought, though it was large and long. Thankfully, the bleeding had mostly stopped except for a few light trickles.

Sasuke opened a small cupboard on the far end of the basement where he kept a large stock of medical supplies. He'd started storing them when he found out it was dangerously easy to get hurt out here. Opening a bottle of disinfecting alcohol, he braced himself, and slowly poured some over the cut.

It was as if every nerve in his arm set on fire. He breathed in and out, knowing he still had to finish the job. As soon as he finished cleaning it, Sasuke grabbed a needle and thread, and began stitching it up. This was relatively easy, seeing as he'd had plenty of practice before. Finally, he wrapped the whole thing in a sterile bandage, feeling a lot better about the whole thing. Popping a few blood replenishing pills, he swallowed them down with a glass of water from a rusty spout that was attached to the wall.

The second thing he needed do was to get some food in his stomach. Sasuke had no food in his house, and practically no money except for a few thousand yen. (which is practically nothing in Japan!)

Sasuke sighed, realizing he'd have to resort to his street techniques again. Sometimes, he did wish he didn't have to steal everything he ate, but it was too late for that. With his reputation, not a single person would hire him.

He walked out onto the street, glancing around for any green vested police. Luckily, there weren't any in sight, but what he did see stopped him in his tracks.

WANTED ALIVE!
Sasuke Uchiha
Gender: Male
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Black
Age: 18
Height: 183 cm
Weight: 77 kg
"If you see this man, please report your sighting to the Konoha Police Force. 200,000 yen offered for capture."

Sasuke grabbed the poster and tore it down. Ripping it into pieces, he threw it into the gutter. Several passerbys stared, but he ignored them, quickly walking away.

How dare they! How dare they invade the underground? Not only had they trespassed beyond their borders, but they'd posted his face on wanted signs.

This would definitely cause trouble. 200,000 yen was a fortune for the people underground, and since he had no particular allies, he knew he would be pursued. Sasuke couldn't trust anyone at this point. He hadn't noticed it before, but a large number of people were pointing and whispering as he went by. He wondered if any of them would make a move.

After shoplifting an enormous amount of food and stuffing it into his satchel, Sasuke beat a quick retreat to his basement again. There was no point in staying outside with his less than favorable condition and a huge number of people after him.

He plunked down on the sofa, and grabbed the first piece of food on top of his pile. Gorging himself after almost four days of practically nothing was a relief, and he easily finished over half of what he'd taken. Storing the rest away in a cupboard, he turned to the last order of business he'd prescribed; sleep.

His body was physically and mentally exhausted. Collapsing onto the beat up couch, he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

I finally have an idea of where I'm going with this story. Happy reading!