D-Claimer, I don't own a damn thing but the plotline, please be advise.

I'm alive! Yes, I know I haven't written anything for awhile, but I've been busy. Well, actually, I have been writting, this story, but I have had time or the will to post it because I didn't think it was all that good. However, I'm going against my better judgement and posting it. Hopefully you (the readers) will like it.

Red, nothing but red. The walls were dripping with the color, the floors were flooded with the liquid, and the corpses had no more blood to give. They were drained, their life essence everywhere but where it was supposed to be. Yet, he had no time to look in great detail at the people he once knew in life. He was running, being chased, and his own doom was impending. The assailant's appearance was forever burned into his memory, the wicked grin revealing the stained teeth and eyes shining with what could only be described as pure insanity. However, what stood out the most was the knife the man carried. The blade was covered in blood of its victims, and soon it would be covered in his blood if he did not get away. He could never get away from the man, try as might; no matter how fast he ran, the murderer was always right behind him.

Turning a corner in hopes of losing his assailant, he ended up tripped over a corpse. Not just any corpse, his brother's corpse. Blank black eyes looked into his own, death already claiming the soul that once resided within their depths. His brother's eyes were the last thing he saw before a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

"NOOOO!" The scream echoed throughout the room as he was pulled upwards and was forced to stare into the same black eyes from only a moment before. The only difference this time was the fact that these eyes held concern and worry within their depths and were not black blank abysses. His own eyes were filled with panic reflecting the fear and horror from what he just witnessed.

"Shhh," his brother's voice filled the room as he pulled his shaking body into a comforting hug. "It's alright, Sasuke, it's over now." More words were cooed in soft whispers with the hope of calming the small boy's racing mind, yet Sasuke's mind was focusing on what his eyes were seeing, not hearing a word his brother was saying. His eyes might have looked like they were glazed over and were unseeing as he gazed out the window of his room, but the fact of the matter was that Sasuke was looking at the reflecting image of his brother and him in the glass.

His brother's slight muscular built shown through the black cotton nightshirt, but any person could tell that he was just beginning to change from a child into a teenager. A teenager who didn't get out in the sun much judging by the paleness of his skin, but it just so happened that his complexion contrasted perfectly with his black hair. At the moment though, the low ponytail that his hair was in—which had once been neat—now had strands suck out at odd angles from sleep and he appeared more of the fourteen year old boy he was.

As for Sasuke's own reflection, all he could see was his short, raven hair in a messy disarray—because of the nightmare—and one of his onyx eyes over his brother's shoulders. The fear in that one eye alone was enough fear that no twelve year old should have to ever know let alone have it shown with unbridled amount of terror. With the little portion of his skin showing, Sasuke had to focus his eyes to see the chalk white of his clammy feeling skin, which was whiter than his skin tone should have been by a few shades.

"Itachi, Sasuke," a woman around her thirties inquired as she rushed into the room. Her waist length coal black hair fluttering behind her as she entered the room while her wide ebony eyes searched every corner of the bedroom in a frantic gesture looking for the problem. Seeing the two boys huddled on the bed, she was right at the side of the bed without a second's delay, kneeling down—not caring that her silk red nightgown was getting wrinkled—the woman laid her hand on Sasuke's back and began rubbing his back in circles. Sitting right next to the two brothers, one would be hard press to not recognize that the woman was their boys' mother from not only how they all shared the same skin tone but her actions were made out right maternal, there was no other word for it. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Was it the nightmare again?" a middle aged man in a gray yukata asked from his position in the doorway. The little amount of light coming from the small bedside lamp in the room barely reached the man's beige skin tone and reflected in his beadlike eyes. Ear length ink colored tresses fell hazardous into his eyes as head turned to scan the room and its occupants. His tense muscles relaxing when his search turned up empty and he let his posture relax as he walked into the room and towards his family.

Sasuke couldn't do anything but nod his head to answer. The nightmare in question was the one the twelve year old boy had for as long as he could remember. The horrid dream plagued him at minimum once a month, but it was always the same. He was being chased by a psychotic murderer trying to kill him. The bodies of people he knew—sometimes people he'd only seen on the street—were scattered, dismembered, everywhere. Their blood covered everything. Sasuke never remembered what the murderer looked like, but he would never forget the knife he carried. The elongated diamond blade always gleamed with a red tint, the handle wrapped in white cloth that was just waiting to be stained with blood, and a circle at the end of the knife which the man—he just knew it was a man—would use to twirl the knife carelessly around his finger; every detail was all scarred within his memory.

In his nightmare, Sasuke would get away only for someone close to him to be murdered before his eyes; while other times more than not, the man would catch him and kill him. Well, he would try to kill him, but before the blade would ever touch his pale skin, the young boy woke himself up screaming. His family had tried to help him by taking him to countless doctors, psychiatrist, and a few specialists to find the reasoning for the nightmares. They tried everything from medication to folk remedies and even hypnosis; unfortunately, nothing ever worked.

Finally, Sasuke found his voice. "He killed Aniki this time." He didn't need to explain who he was; his family knew exactly who he was talking about. Itachi stiffen at the words spoken, his grip tightening a little around his little brother, but slowly the teen relaxed again and continued to try and comfort his little brother.

"Oh, honey," his mother's voice chimed throughout the room as she hugged both of her boys. "It's alright; nothing's going to get you or Itachi. I'll make sure of that."

"But what about you Okaa-san?" her youngest son asked, fear still clouding his mind. Mikoto smiled at him and opened her mouth, only to close it when her husband spoke up for her. Without any of them noticing it, he had come to stand right behind her in hopes of being able to comfort his son in any way he could.

"I'll protect your mother," Fugaku stated smugly, the infamous Uchiha family trademark smirk on his face.

His nerves took a little while to settle, but Sasuke had finally calmed down enough to fall asleep and Itachi soon followed after him. It was only their parents who were left awake and they had moved to sit around the dining room table. Mikoto was currently cradling a cup of piping hot green tea in her hands while Fugaku had something a little stronger in his glass. They sat in silence for a period, neither one knowing exactly what to say at the time nor how to break the silence, just sipping their chosen beverage. Both were trying to relax and let the tension ease. Too bad, it wasn't working.

Fugaku swallowed what was left of his drink in one go before focusing his attention at the problem at hand. "What are we going to do?" His eyes were focused elsewhere, a little glassy in appearance, but it was not from the lack of sleep.

"What can we do?" Mikoto questioned, drinking some of her tea. Her mind was lost in deep thought, thinking of ways to help her youngest son but coming up empty. "We've tried everything. Therapy made it worse, hypnosis worked for awhile, but Sasuke seemed to become immune after a few sessions, and the medication's side effects outweighed what good they did."

"Well, we can't sit around here and do nothing… There must be something we haven't tried yet!" the father said while pouring himself another drink. "It's not like we don't have the money to pay for any type of treatment. I haven't worked all my life to reach where I am, not to be able to help my family when I can. Goddamn it!" His glass was slammed on the table, reverberations bouncing off the walls and through the table. The glass cracked, creating spider like webs around the area where each of Fugaku's fingers held on to the cup. He was tense, and his agitation was getting to him. Soft hands lay upon his shoulders and began to message the kinks out through the grey material of the yukata.

"Calm down, Fugaku-chan," Mikoto's voice soothed the tension in the air, "we'll take care of it. We'll think of something. I'm sure of it."

So, think I should continue or not?

Shi no Tenshi 902