God. I'm just trying to finish up the fics I already have, and yet all I can do is come up with ideas for NaruXGaa fics. Damn. But oh well. I guess I'll once again become one of those people who has a million fics to work on. Oh well. It's fun. And I never get bored. And I guess I will eventually finish something. Anyways AND THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT : This fic was inspired by the fic Minna Nyan! Nyan! By YamiTenshi. Therefore there are some similarities between the two. However, the plot lines are very, very different. I, for one, didn't really like the fic, it just wasn't my thing, but I do like a lot of YamiTenshi's other work. She's on my favorite author's list and I am anxiously awaiting updates. Just...not for Minna Nyan! Nyan! Anyways, go check her stuff out! She's got some really cute NaruXGaa stuff.


Enjoy the fic! :)


Chapter 1



Akihiro Subaku's voice rang out, echoed in the vast room as he started in shock. Before him lay his brother-in-law, a good friend of his and a last link to his wife. Her twin brother. A reminder of a better time. Lying dead on the floor. Was he dead? He had to be? He was crumpled at a slightly awkward angle, blood flooding the floor from a wound in his head. His blond hair was splayed around his skull, drenched in red, that face, so alike, so identical to his wife's, was facing him, slashed and disfigured and as bloody as the rest. The scene was gruesome, horrific.

And in the middle of it all, sat his youngest son. He was still, kneeling before the body, perfectly still, a golden lamp clutched in one white-knuckled hand. A dented lamp.

There was no hesitation as the pieces fell into place, no thoughts in his mind, even as he heard voices behind him. The gasp of a maid, the cries of the the servants. The footsteps of approaching spectators. He was aware of nothing. Nothing other than the scene before him.

His son had killed Yashamaru.

His wife's twin.

The boy's own uncle, just as he had killed his mother.

The boy's head snapped around at his father's shout, his face paler than usual, though his eyes were blank. They showed no remorse, no regret, as they met Akihiro's and at that the man felt rage all anew. His feet pounded forwards, his hand grabbing the front of the boy's shirt, yanking him up until his feet left the ground. Lifting him up by the front of his shirt as if he weighed nothing. He practically did.

"What have you done?" he hissed, his voice venomous, his hands shaking with rage, his face red. "You little bastard!" He yelled, "What have you done?" He was shaking him now, back and forth in jerky movements, his vision covered with a film of red. "What have you done?"

When the boy failed to respond, he was thrown to the floor, the lamp still in his grip, clattered against the floor. He was clutching at it almost desperately. Clutching at the weapon. The thing that had brought death to Yashamaru.

"Let it go!" The man bellowed. When Gaara didn't respond, the man yelled again. "I said let it go! Let it the fuck go!"

No response.

"What?" He asked, his voice somewhat crazed. "What? Are you going to kill me too? Kill me like you did him? Like you did Karura! You're mother!" He was panting heavily and yet Gaara just sat there on the floor, sitting up, though not standing. He met his father's eyes, his own showing nothing other than cool aloofness. No emotions. Nothing at all. But he didn't release the lamp.

"I said let it go!" He bellowed, kicking the boy's hand until he was forced to release it, to let it fly and hit the wall in a shatter of broken glass. The clang of metal. Akihiko stared at it a moment before his eyes drifted to his son, to the corpse and back. Closing his eyes with a growl he, pulled his leg back again driving it deep into the boy's stomach, laying him back flat against the floor, his eyes widening, he coughed, gasping for breath. But before he could the action was repeated. And again. And again. Until-

"My lord!"

Hands clasped the man's arms, restrained him. As he blinked, struggled, he found it was his guards. He stilled, his eyes cooling instantly, though the rage was still evident. It was no good for a king to behave as such around those he commanded. "Release me." He ordered, his voice strong. The voice of one accustomed to being obeyed. Quite used to it.

Surprisingly, however, they refused.

"No my lord." The guard on his left replied. "I cannot."

"I said", he repeated, his tone dropping menacingly. "Release me."

"No. I mean you the utmost respect my liege, but his future has been left to Fate. It's in her hands my lord. To continue would only enrage her."

Akihiko took a deep breath, an attempt to compose himself. "Remove the body", he ordered. "and clean up the blood."

Hesitantly, the guards released, him venturing off towards where Yashamaru lay, the maids entering, prepared to scrub the floor. He saw them, but he didn't care how much the scrubbed, or what they scrubbed with. The sight would be forever imprinted in his mind, the scent of blood forever packed in his nostrils. And his hatred for the bastard everyone claimed to be his offspring as strong as ever. Burning deep within his breast.

The thing had never deserved the life he'd allowed it. He hadn't wanted it any more than his wife. But he'd been merciful tot he child.

He wouldn't be again.

He watched as the creature found it's way to it's hands and knees, keeled over and gasping for breath, blood trailing from it's lips. He prided in that blood. Wished there could be more. It should be that thing's blood on the floor, not Yashamaru's.

The urge to continue was strong, the urge to go over there and finish what he'd started, his hands itching to wrap themselves around it's throat. To squeeze and squeeze until he saw fear in those eyes. Fear, regret, respect. Until there wasn't a single trace of that blank look remaining. And temptation almost won, would have, had the door not flung open again to reveal another man.

He appeared young, but Akihiro knew he was old. Infinitely so. Despite his young face he was as old as eternity itself, an immortal being.

The grandson of Fate.

Sasori Akasuna.

His hair, like Gaara's, was red as flame, proof of the Sabaku's distant relation to the gods. The relation that had granted them power over the kingdom. And yet they were distant enough, the blood diluted, so that the inhuman powers their relations once had, had died with them, disappeared through time. But the fear, the sense of respect instill within the citizens remained.

Yet such respect lay in even the Sabaku's, when faced with their second oldest relative. Outlived only by the goddess of Fate herself. Respected, regardless of the fact that he appeared 15, 16 at the most. Or, more aptly put, feared.

He was tall though, and slender, his black cloak trailing the floor, fastened in the front, covering his body completely. Without saying anything, his gray eyes surveyed the scene, his gaze landing on Gaara. For a moment, everything was still. The guards removing the body froze, the corpse wrapped in a tan cloth being carried between them. The maids ceased their cleaning, not daring to move. The tension in the air was high, the power of this being palpable. The power of a being of Fate.

A being that was only seen ever so often. Only when one committed an act heinous enough to alter their fate. When mortal punishment wouldn't do, or would harm the fate of the one enacting it. The most typical acts were the most deplorable known to the world, murder and rape. Occasionally something else would summon the Fates to this realm, but those were the most common. The most destructive.

And Gaara Sabaku had just committed the first.

He'd lifted his eyes, aware of the presence that had entered, watched as Sasori raised a hand, pointing to him with one black fingernail.

"Gaara Sabaku, Prince of Sunagakure and third son of Akahiro Sabaku. For the murder of your uncle, Fate has summoned you. Your punishment shall be met. Come with me."

Struggling, one arm wrapped around his waist in pain, he found his feet, approaching the god. He didn't miss his father's smile, the slow, satisfied one born from Gaara's apparent pain. But he kept his eyes blank, oddly enough not because he knew the man hated it, but because he felt nothing. Or perhaps he felt too much. All he knew was that his uncle, the only person to ever show him kindness, never really had.

And now he was dead.

Dead by Gaara's own hand.

And he had no clue how to feel about it. He just felt cold. Cold all over. And he supposed his eyes reflected that. If it bothered the old man, than that was his problem. He had more important things to worry about. For example, the cloaked man standing before him. The one who's power's surged, swirled around him like wind expect nothing blew, and in a flash of brilliant light they were gone. No longer in the bloodstained room but in a different realm all together.

"I've brought him Grandmother."

Gaara had never been here, but he knew instantly where he was. He was in the realm of the gods, in the throne room of Chiyo, goddess of Fate. The one woman who held the future of everyone, in every world, in every realm, in her wrinkled hands. Those who saw her seldom returned, but everyone knew her face. She was revered by all, her image carved into statued, printed on currency. And Gaara knew that if he could feel anything now, anything other than this damn consistent numbness, it should be fear.

But yet he couldn't.

The room was wide, the floors a smooth jade, the walls lined with ivory pillars. And in the middle of it all sat Chiyo, atop her ivory throne. It was inset with intricate, swirling carvings, filled with gleaming gold, looking like a ribbon curling through the white. A ribbon with no discernible beginning, no discernible end.

As for the goddess herself, she had the appearance of an old woman, though no one knew why. With her powers she could surely take the form of someone younger, more beautiful, and yet she refused. And no one dared question her.

Instead she was short, her hair long and gray, piled in a knot atop her head with just the fronts hanging down. Her eyes were small, her face wrinkled and sagging slightly. Strangest of all, she gave off no aura, not an ounce of power. But he knew that to be deceiving. Knew that she was restraining it. Knew that should she ever unleash it it would bring him to his knees.

Though, given his current state, that probably wouldn't be too hard.

"Thank you Sasori", she replied, her tone calm. Then, with a bow, he was gone and it was just her and Gaara, alone in the room.

And, apparently, a cat.

He watched as the creature padded across the floor, small and black and what he supposed some people would find adorable. If the smile on the old woman's face was any indication she apparently did. He, however, found himself inching away, refusing to let it weave it's way between his legs.

"Do you like cats Gaara?"

"No." He hadn't bothered to hide his disgust, knew the question was all but rhetorical. She would already know. He groaned as he sneezed, his abused stomach muscles tensing, dots dancing before his eyes. He coughed, blood splattering his mouth and his hand.

"Of course", she replied, her voice dreamy, if not just a little scratchy with age. "You're allergic."

He was. Though he loathed it, he, Gaara, bad ass prince of Sunagakure was allergic to cats. It wasn't exactly menacing.

Because it wasn't a question, he didn't reply. But what was she getting at? He was a murderer. Forget his hands, there was blood coating his entire front, soaking his shirt. It was cold, sticking to his body. Covering him in sin.

So why was she talking about cats?

As if sensing his thoughts, trying to prove that she could, she let her small smile fall. "You've murdered your uncle. You stand before me now, drenched in his cooling blood. And by doing so, you've altered your fate."

He didn't reply.

"Your punishment"she continued, "Has been decided." She looked at him, directly in his eyes, and for the first time in a while he felt a shiver down his spine, though whether it was from fear or sheer raw power alone, he was not sure. "It's a Fate befitting you. What you truly deserve. What you've earned. May it have the desired effect of punishment, to show one what is right and what is wrong. And may you truly consider the actions that have led to this end. Look down Gaara, and accept the repercussions."

He'd have liked to feel the fear, the apprehension he was sure there should be, but felt only numb as his eyes floated to the ground. There was, however, a flicker of surprise when he saw nothing but the small black cat.

"Wha-" he began, but he was cut off, his voice failing. The cat's yellow eyes began to glow and he found himself immobile. Unable to speak. Unable to look away. The glowing light enveloped him, suffocating him, burning his eyes.

And then, there was only black.

His head was throbbing, his muscles, his bones. Everything hurt, his stomach double so from his father's anger. That was the first thing he realized as the blackness began to recede, consciousness taking over. The next was that everything was wrong. The smells. The sounds. The very feel of the air. Everything was off, horribly so.

When he opened his eyes, things got no better.

For starters he was on his side in what he assumed was an alley, cold cement under him, very close to a puddle of liquid he wasn't even going to contemplate. There were tall building on either side, reaching up into the sky. There was a horrible whirring sound, like the rush of something large, mechanical sounds and the high pitched drone of what he supposed was a female singing, though a female what was still up for debate. Not to mention the tickle he could feel growing in his nose, that his throat was getting just a little scratchy.

Great. Wherever he was, it had cats too.

Damn cats.

Groaning, every muscle protesting the movement, he attempted to stand and found he was...different.


A lot smaller...and...horizontal. Looking down he was met with two delicate, red, paws, fuzzy with four small toes, a claw extending from each.

He lifted his hand.

The paw moved.

Very slowly he was filled with his first real, deep seated emotion since the murder: Horror.

So this was his punishment. He'd been turned into the one creature he despised most of all. A horrible, flea bitten, rodent eating cat.

He sneezed.

Great. He was allergic to himself.

Naruto groaned, staring forlornly into his frog shaped coin purse. Once again it was empty, not a coin to be found, much less a bill of some sort. And the sad thing was, he'd been paid yesterday. Even living in a cheap apartment in a bad part of town, the rent still managed to wipe him out.

No matter what anyone says, don't live of your own. It was hell on the checkbook.

Not that Naruto had ever regretted it for a second. No.

Having been orphaned at birth he'd been raised by his grandfather. But when the old man had passed away his only other relative had been his cousin Iruka. The man had never complained, taking Naruto in with open arms, even dropping out of college to do so, but Naruto still felt bad about it. About postponing Iruka's future. He'd only been 14 at the time, in no position to do anything about it, but the second he'd turned 18 he'd hightailed it out of there. Not because life with Iruka was bad, but so Iruka could get back to his life. And while he'd protested Naruto's departure, still obviously worried about him, anyone could see how happy he was to be back in class, working towards a degree once more.

Naruto closed the deflated little frog, stuffing it in his pocket. He'd known that'd be the end of his cash, but it still hurt just a bit to see nothing inside of it.

Besides, he'd gone grocery shopping the night before, and the Ramen he'd spent his last five on had been good.

Damn good.

Which was good, he supposed, seeing as it was the only thing for the next week that wouldn't be cooked in the microwave with instructions to 'just add water'.

He got paid every two weeks, but Iruka had a habit of sending money, right when he suspected Naruto would be running low. Probably because after raising the kid for 4 years he knew that he was hopeless with money.

Oh well. All that mattered was that he was warm and full and happy. Well...warm from the inside anyways. Outside he had the November wind biting at his thin coat and so/so heating back at home. But it didn't really bother him. All things considered, he was where he wanted to be.

Turning the corner, he headed for home.

Even worse than cats, Gaara hated the cold. So to find himself stuck in a strange, cold, place, in the body of a cat, was far from ideal. Actually, it was as close to hell as he was likely to get.

It only figured that his hell would be cold.

He sighed, weariness sweeping him as he padded with his stupid cat feet towards the end of the alley. Walking, against his best interest, towards the lights and sounds, all the while trying to think of where he'd ended up. Though he had a sinking suspicion that he knew... He just prayed he was wrong.

If not then...

That the Fates, in all their cruelty, had landed him in the Third Realm. The realm of the Unknowing.


He just really hoped he was wrong.

And that's when things really blew apart. Stepping out of the alley he was hit with a flash of light. His sensitive eyes slamming closed, his legs dashing forwards, though every instinct told him to remain. The smells were suddenly a thousand times worse, the sounds louder.

There was something loud blaring. Like a horn. More disorienting bright lights.

And then pain.

Lots of pain.

And black.

Naruto froze, his heart clenching as he watched something furry and red bounce off the tire of a Mercedes, landing awkwardly on the sidewalk. Watched the passersby squeal and flee, watched the blood pool around the creature and watched the rich bastard drive off.

Admittedly, they had tried to stop. But still...

Blinking himself back to the present he dated forwards, across the street and was on his knees in an instant examining it. He found it to be a cat, surprisingly small, practically a kitten with fur the oddest shade of orange. So dark that if he didn't know better he'd have called it red.

But they didn't have red cats...right?

But that was beside the point. Glimpsing the ragged rise and fall of it's sides, he scooped it up, his only thought being how lucky this cat was to have gotten hit right in front of his apartment.

Well...maybe "lucky", wasn't the best word to use... More like... slightly more fortunate?

Either way, he cradled it close to his body as he hurried into the building, sparing not so much as a wave for any of his passing neighbors. They'd forgive him – It wasn't like he made a habit of being unfriendly. And besides, he had more important things to take care of right now.

For example, the small bundle of red currently bleeding in his arms, the blood dark, blending in with the fur. Darkening it further, like water would, only thicker. It groaned as he gently repositioned it in one arm to grab his key, blood dripping onto his shoe, and in the back of his mind he could vaguely remember something from a medical show he'd once fallen asleep to...

Something about not moving the injured...


Shoving his key in the lock, he all but kicked in the door, anxious to stop moving the poor thing before he did anymore damage to it.

Laying it atop a towel on the couch, He gently set to work examining it, sincerely hoping it didn't have internal injuries. That it didn't die on his bed, or worse, need a very expensive trip to the vet.

Because he knew, animal lover that he was, that he would take the thing. It would cost him a years salary to do so, but he'd be unable to resist. Because as much as Naruto Uzumaki hated to see anyone suffer, he hated suffering animals more.

They were just so innocent, you know?

If a human ran out into the street and got hit by a car, he'd have felt bad, sure, but the person should have known better. Unless it was a kid of course, or something like that. There were exceptions. But still...

After a brief examination, that he hoped was properly thorough, he concluded that the damage was purely external. There was a gash across his side that bothered him, but the cat didn't appear to have ruptured anything. It's nose wasn't bleeding, nor it's mouth, or ears...or anywhere else where internal bleeding could drain from. He wasn't entirely sure where all that was...but he was pretty sure they weren't.

Taking a cloth from the bathroom, he ran it under some warm water before wiping at the cats body. The fur was long, and matted with dried blood, his side still bleeding, but he was eventually able to clear it away enough for him to smear disinfectant gel over over the scrapes, pack it into the gash before wrapping it with an ace bandage.

He'd never, until this moment, considered his lack of grace a blessing. Now, however, with many medical supplies handy, he was actually rather thankful for his clumsiness.

It saved him quite a lot of money...

After caring for the cat, he left it on the towel, hoping it would wake up soon. Because if the cat didn't regain consciousness it was done for. He couldn't have told you why, exactly, though there were probably several reasons, but he'd seen it on the Animal Planet. Unconscious was bad.

Exhausted, he collapsed on the floor, leaning against the couch, one arm resting on the top by the cat. He wasn't sure if it would make it, would feel horrible if it didn't, but it looked better to him. Laying his head on his arm wearily, he couldn't help but study the creature. It was, after all, unlike any cat he'd ever seen. There was a moment, when he'd first glimpsed it, when he'd questioned it it was even a cat at all.

But no. Upon closer examination he could tell it was. It was just...well...strange.

It was thin, more so than could sit right with Naruto. It's skull was so small, it's legs seemed so fragile it was a miracle they hadn't broken. That his head hadn't been crushed. It's tail was just a little crooked, though if it was like that before or not he wasn't sure. But by far, the most unusual thing about the animal, was it's fur.

Even without the blood, it was blood red.

He'd wanted to call it dark orange earlier, in his panic, but he could now see that he was wrong. It was, unmistakably, red. Almost crimson.

Reaching out out a hand, he rubbed one finger between his pointy red ears in amazement, the fur like silk.

This cat was different, true, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. People had been calling Naruto different all his life, he'd fully accepted that he was. After all, denying it would do him no good. Not when it was so blatantly obvious.

He smiled as a fuzzy, red, triangle twitched under his finger, wondering if perhaps Fate had sent this cat to him. Not that he knew of the other realms, of magic, or of the actual Fates. Of Chiyo or Sasori. But in his figurative, human, earthling sense, he wondered if perhaps this cat had been sent specifically to him.

He was awfully lonely in this apartment by himself.

Perhaps this cat was meant to keep him company.

Yes, he thought. He'd like a pet.


Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It was fun to write. I like this fic a lot. I hope it's just a little different from all the other become-a-cat- fics out there. I like to keep things original. Anyways, onto that amusing story:

FIRST A NOTE: Yes. He is fine. Yes, he did get hit by a car. He can be fine after that, my do was. There is, however, a reason behind it for those people it may bother. You will find out in the next chapter.

Remember how in my first authors note in the beginning I mentioned Minna Nyan! Nyan! By YamiTenshi. Well, I was reading the summary for that fic one night while hanging out with my friends. Grimmgray and Xemnas321 were hanging out, spending the night, and I'm reading the summary of the fic to Grimmgray. Xemnas321 was bringing in a blanket from the other room and just when I finished reading the summary ( it's about Naruto saving a cat and a cat god rewarding him and stuff. Lots of mentions of cats.) when I hear a meow. I thought it was Xemnas321, but no. It's my neighbors cat, at my open window...My room is on the second story...

But anyways...irony anyone?

Anyways, I thought it was amusing. ( I've since unofficially adopted that cat. I love cats :) )

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter.