A/N: Disclaimer—yeah, no. I don't own the tiniest part of either Eyeshield or Naruto, and I will never own either. You can tell by both series not being a weekly acid trip (seriously, why does what I write never make sense).
You know, I was thinking about Sena=Naruto, and I realized that would mean that Sena's father would, well, be the Hokage. Yeah. Picture that for a moment. Oh man, if someone were to actually draw that for me, I would, I dunno, give you a million dollars. Okay, I don't have a million dollars, but I would write you something awesome anyway.
Sorry this is so short, and so unbelievably late, but I've been struggling with a few things lately. I also caught George RR Martin's take on fanfiction and felt enormously bad.
So I want to say this: creators of Eyeshield 21 and Naruto, I do this out of love for both your worlds and your characters. It's also great writing practice. I would never try to take any of your property away from you, or something horrendous as that. And if you ask me to stop, I will do so immediately.
Just got out of hospital today. Will write more soon.
Sena could hear that familiar sound in the background even before she realized where she was-that incessant drip, drip, drip of water snaking its way from pipes and walls to the shallow pools covering the tips of her sandals. She put a hand against a nearby wall to steady herself, grimacing as she felt the cold ooze of a perpetually damp surface.
She was here, yet again. And there was only one way out.
She sighed, wiped her hand on what seemed to be a pair of pajama pants, and slushed forward through the shallow water. She could recognize the turns and twists in the passage even before they came—a right there, straight here, take a left fifteen steps ahead. All the while the rusted pipes seemed to weigh heavily on her from their places on the walls and ceiling.
Just one more turn and-ah, there she was.
She came into a larger room, the corridors giving way to a wide, circular space. In front of her were a set of metal bars that reared far overhead. What was behind the metal bars was the real problem, however.
Sena approached the cage cautiously as ever, stopping a safe distance away.
"Well now," a voice drifted from behind the bars. She flinched at the sound of it, inching back as a tall, lanky figure made its way forward. He made the space behind him seem comically oversized. "Been a while, hasn't it?" Sena narrowed her eyes as a man came into view, leaning against the bars with arms loosely crossed.
"I," she started glancing over the man's spiked blond hair. "You look different again."
"True," he smiled, twisting his strong nose, blue eyes, and broad mouth into something resembling 'ruggedly handsome'. The last time she'd seen him, he'd had wrinkles and graying hair. "I thought I'd go for something a little younger this time. Looking decrepit loses its charm rather quickly, I'm afraid."
She looked away, edging back further to lean against the wall, damp or no. She clasped her hands and looked resolutely at her feet.
"Oh come on," the man behind the bars whined. "We're not doing this again, are we?"
Her lips pressed into a tight line.
"We are, then? Great," he sighed, propping his cheek on a curved hand. "Let's just stand around in silence for hours, then. That'll be loads of fun, I'm sure."
She stood resolutely silent.
He stared at her for a moments, beginning to tap on the bars with overlong fingernails. Sena started to pick at her thumbs, but said nothing.
He sighed again. Then straightened. "Fine, don't talk. I'll talk. Will that suffice?"
She frowned. "What does suffice me-" then her eyes widened, and she clamped her mouth shut again.
"Ha!" he laughed, the smile lighting up his eyes. "Caught you."
Sena bit her lip and looked down at her toes. She mumbled something quietly to her feet.
He cupped a hand around his ear. "Sorry? Didn't quite get that."
"I-" she started, then sighed, looking up. "Why do you keep bringing me here?"
He blinked at her for a moment, a look of bemused confusion on his face. "Me bring you here?" He laughed. "If I could do that, Sena, you'd be down here every night. No," he shook his head. "You came here of your own will."
"But I-" she stopped, giving him a half-hearted glare. Then she sighed, leaning back against the far wall. "Nevermind, then."
"So," the man grinned. "How was your day?"
"Why ask when you already know?" she mumbled, scuffing the toe of her sandal with the side of her other shoe.
"I suppose that's a fair point. Those teammates of yours are complete pricks, by the way. I'd dump 'em the minute you get the chance."
She gave him an odd look. "But they're my team." She paused for a minute. "And they're not so bad. Well, maybe not really bad."
The man snorted. "One of them tried to blow you up. The other wouldn't hesitate to leave you in the dust if you conflicted with his own self-interests, crush or no."
"Wait, crush? What cru-"
He stepped back from the bars, giving her a careless shrug. "All I'm saying is you shouldn't trust them. Or rely on them. You know they'll just let you down. Maybe even hurt you."
Sena narrowed her eyes. "Why do you keep saying that? It—it can't be true about everyone."
He spread his hands wide, giving her a pitying look. "But it is. The only one you can rely on is yourself."
"But," she said, feeling herself starting to lose ground. She hated this, and she hated him. Why did she have to come here? He made her, she just knew he did. Otherwise—there was no way that- "That means I can't trust you either."
"Of course you can trust me, Sena. I'm part of you now, aren't I?"
His tone was warm and rich. She hated that too. Hated how welcoming it was.
She shook her head. "I'm—I'm leaving."
The man's sigh was long suffering. "I don't understand why you just won't let me help you. I've been there for you. You know I have."
"I—no. No. You're supposed to be evil. You're, well, you're the Kyuubi and I won't listen to you and-and I still hate you!"
The words came out in a rush and left her feeling half her age. She winced at the sound of them.
He just shook his head. "I guess I don't blame you for feeling that way, all things considered."
She bit her lip, balled her hands into fists, and turned to walk back through the passageway. She'd—she'd crouch in the hallway until she woke up if she needed to.
"May I leave you with food for thought, before you go?" he asked her back. "C'mon, you at least owe me that," she could practically hear
She wouldn't turn around, wouldn't let him get to her-
"What?" she asked, turning her head anyways.
"There's a saying. Well, I think it's a saying, and if it's not, it should be one. 'History is always written by the victor.' Have you ever heard that?"
"I-" she faltered. "No, but-"
"I lost that day, twelve years ago. The Konoha ninja won, and so painted me in an image of their choosing. I became the great, hulking mass of evil chakra. A shame that my side of the story got lost in the process."
She saw his face twist with bitterness, then anger. The words seemed so genuine, so—no. Oh, she hated him. "That—that doesn't mean you're not evil."
He raised an eyebrow. "So I see. Well then," he threw a hand up in resignation. "I see there's no convincing you, as always. Just remember that there's always more than meets the eye in any situation, Sena. That goes for what happened then, and for your teammates. In time you'll see I'm just looking out for your best interests. I'm the only one who is, really."
She hated him. Really really hated him. Hated him so much for saying these things.
She hated herself more, though, for wanting to believe them.
"Oh, and Sena?" he called, laughter in his voice again as she rushed out into the hallway. "Don't look down!"