So, Gang Wars just wasn't working out for me, so I deleted it and decided to start over with a different story. o.o

Unfortunately, I don't own anything to do with Naruto. D:


Now, in every high school, you have your typical cliques.

The 'preps,' the 'jocks,' the 'emos,' and so on. According to most of America, everyone is able to fall under a certain label, according to the way they dress, the type of music they listen to, or silly things like that.

But once in a great while, a kid or two will come along that just can't be labeled. No one can figure out why, but those kids just don't fit in with any certain label.

And thus, our story begins. Sixteen year old Sasori Akasuna had just transferred out to the city with his elderly grandmother, Chiyo. He had been expelled from almost every school he had ever been to. His temper was just too much. To say the least, Sasori was not pleased with this.

"Ugh, why are we moving again?" Sighing, he stared out of the car window. The city was bleak and gray. "We wouldn't have had to move if you could just keep that temper of yours down." His grandmother managed to send him a glare as she swerved the automobile down the narrow street. "Wasn't my fault...they made fun of my hair," he managed to mumble. It was true, Sasori's hair was rather...attention grabbing. Bright red. That would catch anyone's attention. Apparently, he had inherited it from his father.

"Well, we're here...please, Sasori, don't kill anyone this time around, okay?" Half-listening, Sasori nodded. Of course, he wasn't promising anything. If someone was stupid enough to piss him off, that wasn't his fault. "Help me unload the boxes from the trunk." Once again, a small sigh escaped the boy's lips. They had never had much to begin with, why lug it around with them everywhere they moved to? But he figured that the last thing his grandmother needed to deal with was more stress, so he got out of the car, and picked up a few boxes, carrying them into his new 'house.'

Walking inside, Sasori wasn't surprised at how small it was. A kitchen, a tiny sitting area, and in the back, two bedrooms and a bathroom. Although, it was better than the last place. At least he wouldn't have to share a room with his grandmother. "Gramma, where do you want all this crap to go?" He heard a muffled cry of "anywhere" come from his grandmother. It sounded like she was struggling up the stairs, but Sasori couldn't blame her. She was old, and having to carry two boxes up a flight of stairs would easily do her in. He set the boxes down on the ground, and walked over to help his grandmother. He wouldnt' want her to hurt herself.

"Sasori, you're starting school tomorrow. I want to make sure you learn as much as possible." Sasori rolled his eyes. His grandmother could just drone on and on. "But Gramma, it's not like I'll ever apply any of that shit to the real world...I mean, calculus? Come on, how is that going to help me become an artist?" Sasori had always had a passion for art, ever since he was little. "Sasori, if I had the money, you'd be in the finest art academy money could buy. But I don't. So you're just going to have to take calculus, and deal with it." With that, she handed him a cup of instant ramen, fresh out of the microwave.

Damn...why did I get stuck going to school? Why didn't I just join a gang or something? Sasori lay awake in his bed. There was no way he'd be getting much sleep tonight. Hopefully this school won't suck as badly as the others have...There was a little hope in him that he would meet a fellow artist or something, but he knew how slim those chances were. In the city, all it was was sluts, gangsters, and the occasional jocky bastards. What fun this is going to be...