Chapter Text
It is said that when someone dies, 7 minutes of their greatest memories will play through their mind. While it may be a mystery to most as to which memories will be shown, Sasuke would bet that one memory in particular would be shown to him.
Kindergarten, 1996.
Sasuke sat anxiously on the large, rainbow colored mat, legs crossed with fidgeting hands in his lap. It was his first time being surrounded by so many children his age. It was his first-ever opportunity to make a friend.
He watched the door as more children were flowing inside, being dropped off by their parents in a similar fashion to him: having to take photos, exchange hugs and kisses, and have a tearful goodbye. He tried not to think about his parents leaving him, fearing that if he pictured his teary-eyed mother and proud father, he’d start crying too.
But it was too late. Even just thinking about not being with his dear mother caused his eyes to sting madly, and before he knew it, he felt the warmth and wetness of tears staining his rosy cheeks. He was overwhelmed with emotions, the fear, anger, and embarrassment, all confusing his young brain and leading him to cry harder. He felt more and more eyes latching onto him as he cried. All he could do was bury his head in his hands and hope that they’d stop looking and that the day would go by as fast as his mother said it would.
And while his sniffling had unfortunately captured the eyes of many five-year-olds, only one stood out. Only one was able to build up the courage to sit next to the crying boy. Sasuke lifted his head at the sudden weight he felt on his shoulder, looking up with tear-blurred vision. The hand belonged to a curious, blue-eyed, blond-haired boy, stroking his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” The boy grinned, hoping that his own sadness won’t peak through, “I cried too. I miss my mommy and daddy.”
“I want to go home,” Sasuke mumbled between his sniffling.
The child didn’t know what to do. Of course, he felt the same way. Why would he want to be in this new place with these new people when he could be at home with his parents? He thought back to 15 minutes ago in the hope of a solution to this problem, when he, too, was sobbing and begging to go home.
His father had been trying to ease him out of the car kindly and gently. “Come on, sweetheart,” He smiled, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, “It’ll be okay, just get it over with.”
The child continued crying, blubbering out arguments. He was okay with acting like this with his dad, since he would always cave in in the end. But once he heard his mother sigh as she shoved her husband out of the way, he knew it was over.
She grabbed her hysterical, flailing son and set him down on the sidewalk. She felt horrible for putting her baby through this, but they’d spent far too long in the drop-off lane, and things had to speed up. “You listen to me,” She demanded, kneeling to be at her son’s eye-level, “You are going to walk into that school with a brave face on and have a good day. You need to take a deep breath and calm down.”
“I’m scared,” The child wailed, burying his face into his mother’s chest, “Can’t you be with me?”
“No, I can’t,” She explained, stroking his head, “But you won’t be alone. You know why?”
He shook his head. “Because you’ll make friends. Lots of them. Everyone will see how nice and brave you are, and they’ll want to be your friends. I know this. Trust me. You ready to go now?”
He took a deep breath, rubbing his puffy eyes, “Yeah.”
So, what else could he have possibly done than to ask the million-dollar question, “Wanna be my friend?”