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Chapter Text

As Sasuke sits in the center of a room full of the most important people in Konoha, he can feel history repeating itself.

He holds himself perfectly still. Not a single person in the room will cast their gaze towards him, content to look down at their papers and pretend he isn’t there, and he is unwilling to give them the satisfaction of hearing the clattering of his chains that accompany even the slightest movement, despite the way that the weight of them burns his raw skin in this position. 

It’s what Konoha is best at: looking the other way. They like to trap, to maim, and then to avert their gaze, like those they harm are a tiger in a cage and they fear that if they catch its eye, they will be snarled at. 

There is hardly a greater degradation, Sasuke thinks, than an animal lashing out at its captor through the bars of its cage. The first time, they will jump back. But once they realize that the bars are strong, they’ll laugh. They’ll step closer and taunt the futility of the action. The cage shrinks. 

So Sasuke holds himself still. He stays quiet. 

Perhaps it is not history repeating itself. The Uchiha had been a proud people, fighting to the very end. They would have let the shackles make noise, let them clang against each other until it rendered their captors deaf. 

But they had each other. His sound alone would not be enough. 

As he sits on the hard metal chair, feet bound to its legs and arm restricted in a straitjacket, he knows he should be angry. He should be shouting vitriolic threats at these people who had watched him suffer all his life and done nothing, but he just wants to go back to his cell, lie down, and close his eyes. 

He doesn’t need to hear his sentence. He sees no reason to pull him from his cell cot for this other than as one last chance to sully the Uchiha name on public record. It’s not as if his bearing witness to his sentencing will affect its outcome; they will either leave him to rot in prison for the rest of his life or execute him, and of those options he has no preference as to which they choose. 

Distantly, he can recognize that the deciding of his fate should be terrifying, but all he can think of is the fact that as he looks around, Naruto isn’t there. No golden hair and soft eyes to give him peace. No naive smile to tell him everything is going to be alright. Part of him is grateful that Naruto won’t have to watch it happen. Another much greater part of him just wants to look at his face one last time before his cursed fate reaches its final stage. 

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not history repeating itself, it’s just the end. The conclusion. This is the terminal translation of the Curse of Hatred that plagued his bloodline; love, pain, and finally, death.

Kakashi stands, Hokage robes appearing heavy on him, like they’re too big. Cumbersome, like they weren’t made for him. Nevertheless, he draws the eyes of everyone in the room without having to so much as clear his throat. 

“The date is November tenth,” he says with a sadness that is as transparent as water. “This court is being held to determine the sentencing of Uchiha Sasuke on counts of defecting from the Leaf Village, the manslaughter of Shimura Danzo, and attempted murder of the Five Kages.” Kakashi opens the folder in front of him, looking down at it for a moment before continuing. “After much deliberation from the present leaders within Konoha, the council, and the village elders, a conclusion has been reached and will be read momentarily. I will now give the opportunity for any last words before I do so.”

The silence settles on him like dirt cast into an open grave, suffocating and final, as Sasuke realizes no one is coming to save him. 

It is not a novel feeling to realize that you are drifting out to sea with no tether to bind you to the dock, but rather evidence that things never really change. Even Naruto, who has dedicated much of his life to the futile goal of saving Sasuke can’t reach him now. 

He doesn’t need to be saved. He knows when he’s lost. He doesn’t have it in him to dive for the fast-disappearing rope that could reel him in, to cry out for help, to search the sky for a turning lighthouse in the dark. He won’t beg. The very last Uchiha will die with dignity, lungs quiet and still, filled with salt as he sinks to his watery grave. 

Sasuke refuses to close his eyes against the silence that stretches out over the room, watching Kakashi become heavier and heavier under the weight of it. He waits too long, longer than is necessary to tell that no one has anything left to say, like he wants someone to object. It’s almost insulting to watch; the Hokage, the most powerful man in Konoha, waiting for someone else to do something instead of opening his own mouth. 

Kakashi swallows and looks down at the folder for a long moment. “Very well,” he says, not looking up. He taps his finger against the paper below, and if Sasuke had anything left in him he would yell at him to stop his pathetic stalling to postpone the inevitable. 

“Uchiha Sasuke,” he says, finally looking at Sasuke. Sasuke realizes this is the first time Kakashi has spared him a glance since they chained him to this chair. “Despite your role in winning the war against Otsusuki, your malicious actions and intent towards Konoha can not be ignored. Though we can acknowledge the pain of losing your clan, we cannot excuse such an offense. On behalf of the Hidden Leaf Village, I, Hatake Kakashi find you guilty on all counts and sentence you to-”

The door behind Sasuke bangs open, followed by sounds of a scuffle and a cry of “Wait!”

Sasuke can’t turn around to look at the commotion, but he watches Kakashi’s eyebrows raise along with murmurs from all around the room as they look behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees gold and he can hardly believe it as Naruto barrels into the center of the room, standing directly in front of Sasuke as he faces the court, followed by two guards who clearly tried and failed to stop him.

“You can’t do this, Kakashi ,” Naruto breathes. “It’s not right. You know it’s not.”

“Naruto-” Kakashi tries. All around him the leaders and council members murmur, offended by the show of disregard for propriety. 

“You of all people know that this is wrong,” Naruto interrupts him, hands clenched at his side around a document. “If Sasuke is going to be on trial, those involved in what happened should be too.”

Kakashi sets down his folder hard, voice dark and warning, “Naruto, think about what you’re doing.”

“I am,” he bites back. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it every single day since Obito told us.”

Kakashi’s face falls, a deep pain and desperation in his eyes that shocks even Sasuke. 

“You said it was for the good of the village. That it was for peace,” Naruto’s voice is almost pleading. “But how can it be peace if the cost of it is justice?”

“What is he talking about, Kakashi?” Tsunade says, turning to look at him.

Kakashi shakes his head, but before he can speak, one of the council members stands.

“What does it matter?” he calls out, gesturing to Naruto. “This is outrageous, just walking in here and starting to yell. This is no place for your childish antics, boy.”

A sharp laugh rises from Naruto, entirely humorless, as he turns towards Homura. “So now I am a child?” he barks. “When I kill for you, I’m the great hero of the village, but when I say something you don’t like, I’m a child again?”

The room falls into a tense silence; the kind of silence you can feel on your skin, like the tight drying of blood. The great unspoken truth of Konoha, laid out for all to see. 

“After everything I’ve done, after everything I’ve given for this village, you will not silence me,” he shouts, voice reverberating sharply off of the walls. “You will listen to what I have to say, or you will have to find a new jinchuuriki to protect your village.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen as he looks at him. He has never heard Naruto speak like this in his life. He has never heard him acknowledge the tacit agreement between himself and their beloved village that he is their greatest weapon; their greatest asset, despite everything. 

Sasuke watches as Naruto clenches his jaw, a refusal to back down from the silent power struggle happening between them until Sasuke hears a chair creak, and only pulls his gaze away to see Kakashi take a seat and make a defeated gesture towards Naruto. Sasuke can’t help but be a little astounded at the efficacy of it- of Naruto pulling rank. This person who used to be sold rotten vegetables as a kindergartener, now having the entire Konoha government bend to his will.

Naruto takes another step forward, brandishing a paper in his hand. “The Konoha government ordered the genocide of the entire Uchiha clan to take place,” he says, voice clear and sure. “You wanted proof: here it is.” 

Sasuke feels his jaw drop as he stares, unbelieving of what he’s seeing before his very eyes. Distantly he can hear murmurs from the crowd, but Naruto doesn’t stop and wait. 

“Shimura Danzo caught wind of the Uchiha coup d’etat and, with the help from the council, forced Uchiha Itachi to kill his entire clan.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” snaps Homura, standing, “What proof could you possibly have. Are we really going to let this child-”

“They have been troublesome for as long as they have existed, ” Naruto raises his voice, interrupting Homura as he reads directly from the document. “ Segregation has made them restless, dangerous. They can’t be placated anymore, best to snuff out the fire before it burns the village to the ground.”

Sasuke’s stomach sinks, a heaviness coming over him as if lead had been poured through him, hardening inside his body and seeping into his blood. He finds himself paralyzed. 

“I believe Uchiha Itachi to be our greatest asset; he is skilled, ruthless, and desperate for peace. If we use the right words, he will feel that he has no choice,” Naruto reads before he looks back up at Kakashi. “This is addressed from Shimura Danzo to Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu.”

All eyes in the room turn to the council members. Koharu does not move a muscle, mouth agape as she stares at Naruto.

Homura turns to the room, smugness wiped from his face and replaced with desperation. “You can’t possibly believe him, this could easily have been fabricated! He’s lying to protect his-”

“There’s more than just this,” Naruto says, holding up the stack of documents in his hand. “I have days of correspondence between them, outlining every detail of the plan.”

Kakashi looks at Naruto for a long moment, and Sasuke turns to look at him as well. His resolve is clear on his face, and it dawns on Sasuke that Naruto has made up his mind. He knows the risks. He knows what he’s putting on the line in doing this. He knows, and still he persists, whatever the consequences. 

“Yamanaka,” Kakashi says, turning to a man at his side that does not resemble the Yamanakas in appearance, but is identifiable by demeanor. “Can you verify the integrity of these letters?”

Naruto does not hesitate for even a moment before he steps up to the man, placing the papers in front of him. The man looks at Naruto, arms crossed over his chest, before he glances at Kakashi and pulls the papers towards himself. 

Sasuke stares at Naruto’s back, the way he holds himself as he throws himself on the stake for Sasuke, and he can’t believe he ever thought it would be possible to sever whatever it is that binds them. He feels like a fool, like he’s the last to know. He feels like the line connecting them is fluorescent in the room, visible to everyone’s naked eye but his. He realizes he can’t see it, but he can feel it like it’s part of him. He feels it like the shackles around his legs. He feels it like a weight that will drown them both. 

“They’re real,” Yamanaka says after a moment, face solemn as he slides the documents towards Kakashi. 

As Kakashi reads through the papers, there is a long moment where Sasuke finds himself holding his breath, certain that it will not matter; that Kakashi will set fire to the only proof of what happened and that will be the end of it. The truth of the grizzly fate of his people will dissolve to ash before his eyes and he will once again be the sole bearer of the truth. 

This does not happen. Kakashi takes his time going over the letters, despite the entire room waiting on him with bated breath. Sasuke’s eyes slide to Naruto, standing close to Kakashi, tense, and he knows that even if he tried to destroy the proof, Naruto would not allow it. Sasuke breathes out slowly.

“Homura and Koharu,” Kakashi says, and Sasuke is shocked to hear anger simmering just below the clear surface of his voice, “What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

Every single eye in the room slides to the spot that the counselors have likely occupied for decades. They are the oldest people there, having seen multiple generations live and die before their eyes, and as Sasuke looks at them now, he thinks he can see it on their skin.  

Koharu stands slowly, her age showing in more ways than just her gray hair and tired eyes, but she holds herself straight.

“Koharu-” Homura tries to stop her, gnarled hand gripping tightly around her wrist, but she only shakes her head, standing anyway.  

“It’s true,” she croaks, voice like the unsheathing of a rusted blade. The silence in the room is suffocating, a shared disbelief among them all. “We did what we had to do for the good of the village.” She speaks slowly. Clearly. Without remorse. Murmurs break out around the room. “The Curse of Hatred is a powerful thing, and we could not let it drag the whole shinobi world into its carnage. To lose that many lives-” she looks down, shaking her head. “It was a great tragedy. But we had to sacrifice the good of the few for the good of the many; this is the ugly side of peace.”

“Itachi, please,” he cried out, thrashing around against his arm holding him back. “Don’t kill it, it’s just a baby!”

Itachi’s hold on him grew tighter, holding back as his other arm pressed the fledgeling bird against the ground, broken wing hanging limply at its side as it struggled in his grasp. 

“We can help it get better! We can keep it in my room until it can fly again, just please don’t kill it,” Sasuke cried out, digging his fingernails into Itachi’s forearm in a futile attempt to be released. 

“You can’t fix something like this,” Itachi bit back at him, voice rough like torn cloth. “Even if we fix its wing, it’ll never be the same. It’ll be vulnerable to predators and likely be killed anyway. It’ll slow down its flock, Sasuke, it’ll put them in jeopardy.”

“It can live with me forever, then!” Tears began to spill from Sasuke’s eyes as he watched the baby bird, beak open, eyes wide. Even on an animal so different from him, he could recognize terror when he saw it.

“And what sort of life would that be?” Itachi barked at him. “Away from its flock? Living in a room all its life?”

Sasuke shook his head frantically, any words he may have had getting caught in his throat. He tried to breathe, even with Itachi’s arm tight over his chest. He tried to calm down, like he was always supposed to. He was always supposed to be calm, no matter what happened, no matter what he saw. 

“I don’t want it to die,” he said, barely able to produce a whisper.

Itachi sighed, stilling behind him. “I know, Sasuke,” he spoke softer this time, but his grasp did not loosen. “But it’s better for everyone if it dies. It will only suffer and cause suffering if it lives, we must consider the outcome that offers the greatest good.”

“Why?” Sasuke choked out through his tears.

“Because that is the Will of Fire,” Itachi said, and Sasuke swore he could hear his voice shaking. “Because if we allow love to guide our actions, everything will be okay.”

Sasuke could hardly see the bird anymore through his tears. His head felt heavy, and his stomach churned more with every passing moment. He swallowed, “We have to kill it because we love it?”

“Yes,” Itachi said, but he sounded unsure. “It is a kindness. Do you want the things you love to suffer? Do you want it to cause suffering?”

Sasuke shook his head. 

Itachi replaced the hand holding down the baby bird with his foot, and Sasuke couldn’t help but squirm against him. “Wait-”

“If we draw it out, it will only suffer more,” Itachi snapped, picking up a rock. 

Sasuke couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. He didn’t want it to suffer. He didn’t. 

“Close your eyes,” Itachi murmured. Sasuke did. 

The sound of the rock against bone is one he never forgets. The bird did not make a sound. It did not seem to suffer; death fast and painless. But as Sasuke stared at the blood afterwards, he could not call it a kindness. He could not call it love. 

“Alright,” Kakashi calls out, pulling Sasuke from his own mind and silencing the angry din from the court around them. 

Kakashi rubs at his forehead. “I hear you all, and I agree; this cannot stand.” He stands slowly, turning to Homura and Koharu. “I am left with no choice but to remove the both of you from the council, permanently. Following this, there will be a separate, formal trial to decide your fates. Does anyone object to this?”

The court is silent, and Sasuke feels as if he is dreaming. He feels like he cannot discern reality anymore, the moments melting together and mixing like ink in water. 

Distantly, he sees Homura and Koharu stand, met with guards. He sees Homura say something to the crowd but he can’t process it. He watches as they are escorted out. He hears Kakashi speak. Then Tsunade. The mist slowly clears again. 

“Though this has brought great clarity to his motivations, we cannot allow someone of this power level to face no consequences,” says Tsunade in an even tone, addressing the room. “Damage was done, lives were lost. We cannot look the other way when it comes to things like these.”

Sasuke blinks, trying to pull himself back to reality. Naruto has returned to his place beside Sasuke, standing tense like he’s ready at any moment to physically barricade Sasuke from the rest of the court. 

A man Sasuke doesn’t recognize stands and Sasuke pulls his eyes from Naruto. The man is tall, dressed in ANBU uniform, with a large scar spanning his neck. Sasuke is sure he would have remembered him, had they ever met previously. 

“You are right, Lady Tsunade, that we cannot do nothing. But considering the greatly unjust circumstances that have befallen this young man, I believe that a middle ground can be found.” His speech is polished. Charismatic. There is a warmth and an assuredness to it that Sasuke can tell people in the room respond to. 

“Please, Masato, what suggestions do you have?” Kakashi says. 

“Two years probation,” Masato responds, pacing slowly out to the open space where Naruto and Sasuke are. The tension in Naruto’s posture does not lessen in the slightest, and he shifts to place himself between Sasuke and Masato which earns him an almost amused look. “Dependent on good behavior, of course.” 

Masato flicks his eyes to Sasuke. “You would have to stay in the village. House arrest at first, just as a precaution.” It’s the first time in an hour that anyone has addressed Sasuke instead of only speaking about him. “If that goes smoothly, you can work for me. For the ANBU. Nothing crazy, just a way to…” he pauses to think, stroking his chin, “ reconnect with the village. Give back. Think of it as community service.”

He gives a sympathetic smile before he looks back at Kakashi.

“That sounds reasonable,” Kakashi sighs, a hesitance in his voice that Sasuke can’t determine the origin of. “And you would oversee this?”

“To the extent that I could, I would be happy to . But-” Masato turns on his heel, walking smoothly back over to them, this time looking at Naruto. “I think Naruto would be a much better choice.” He claps a hand on Naruto’s shoulder before addressing the room. “History over and over again has shown that the best way to pull an Uchiha from the clutches of the Curse of Hatred is with the Will of Fire. Naruto here is practically the poster child for it; I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job.”

Sasuke feels the floor drop out from beneath him, a deep, sickening dread rising in his throat as he realizes what is being proposed. There’s a desperate part of Sasuke that wants to cry out anyone but him. There is no one in this world that would hurt more as a shackle around his neck than the one person he loves most. 

But it is the nature of their relationship; their cosmically entwined fates, reborn generation over generation, that there is no one else who could do the job. It is their fate to be tied together, no matter how desperately Sasuke has tried to cut them loose, and as much as these ties, this love, secures you to the world, it hurts in equal measure. With love, there is pain. This is an inescapable truth. 

“Naruto?” Kakashi asks.

Sasuke turns to look at Naruto, only to find him already looking back, and the second their eyes meet, he can tell that they feel the same. The anguish is all over his face.  He knows Naruto will say yes, because he has no choice. He knows Naruto will become his guard, his keeper, the shackle around his throat. He knows that he will, because he would do anything for Sasuke. Even throw away anything else that could ever become of them. He looks into his eyes, and he knows that Naruto knows it as well. 

“I’ll do it,” Naruto breathes, not looking away. 

Sasuke lets his eyes shut, finally. He could watch as the court calls for his head on a stake, but to watch as the childish dream of finding peace with Naruto dies in front of him is something he simply can’t do. 

“Very well, then,” Kakashi says, distantly. “Sasuke?”

Sasuke opens his eyes, and realizes that Kakashi is waiting for him to agree. It’s insulting, to pretend like he has any choice, but if it makes this moment pass, Sasuke will play along. 

He nods tersely. He can’t speak, his throat is too tight. 

He can feel Naruto looking at him, but he won’t look back. It’s too painful. He won’t cry here in front of all of these people who couldn’t care less if he lives or dies. He won’t let them see how it hurts him. 

He won’t even let Naruto see how it hurts him, although somehow he thinks that he knows. The bond that ties them together goes both ways. 

There is something cruel about this fate; more cruel than dying, more cruel than prison. It offers him a life, while withholding the one thing that he wants more than anything else. It says, you will live to see the life you wanted shrivel and die at your feet, and you will have to keep living. It says, you will love, and it will hurt. 

___

Exactly one year and three hundred and sixty four days later, Naruto stands in the entryway of Sasuke’s apartment, shoes and coat still on, yelling.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, Sasuke thinks as he sits on the floor among boxes already taped up with what few belongings he has, that it has come to this. To anger and shouts that echo off the empty walls of the empty rooms, only bringing more attention to the fact that the decision has already been made. 

“Were you even going to tell me?” Naruto spits, knuckles white where his fists are clenched at his sides. “Or were you just going to disappear again? Just walk away like we mean nothing to you. Like I mean nothing to you.”

Sasuke shuts his eyes, turning away to tape up another box. It’s labeled “donation” along with all the rest; his whole life easily packed up and given away. Sasuke thinks about the previous night, the stack of letters started but not finished. The only thing they all had in common was Naruto written at the top, like Sasuke knew that he wanted to say something to him, but he couldn’t work out what it was. In the end, it was better to say nothing than to say something that isn’t enough. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto calls to him, and the pain in his voice makes Sasuke feel sick, but he doesn’t turn to face him. He can’t.

He hears Naruto’s footsteps approaching him, shoes still on, before he catches Sasuke by his upper arm, turning him around.

For a second, Naruto just looks down at him from where he’s bent over him. His face is close enough that Sasuke can see the mist of tears gathered in his eyes but unshed. 

He looks at Sasuke like he’s trying to figure it all out. Like if he spends enough time studying him, then he’ll understand. Sasuke knows there isn’t enough time in the world.

“Why are you doing this?” he breathes, voice fragile, and Sasuke rips his eyes from him, wrenching his arm from his grasp.

It settles in his stomach like a stone tossed into a well, that he is not understood. Not even by Naruto. Even by a person who has sustained a lifetime of abuse at the hands of this village. Even by someone who has been battered and broken by Konoha only to be put back together in just the right way so he believed that he owed them, he is still not truly seen. 

“How can you not know?” Sasuke barks, putting space between them. “After everything, how can you ask me that, Naruto?”

Naruto’s face falls. “I just thought-”

“You thought what?” Sasuke laughs bitterly. “That time would make being here easier? That just because I wasn’t in a cell, I wasn’t a prisoner?”

“No,” Naruto squeezes his eyes shut as he sinks his hands into his hair. “No. I just thought- Me and Sakura are here. Kakashi is here. The people who can be there for you are here. Besides, you’re good at what you do; your work with Masato and the ANBU, it’s been-”

“Naruto,” Sasuke says, quieter this time. The tiredness that seems to live in his body now begins to crawl over him like hands pulling him under water. “Your Konoha is not the same as mine.”

Naruto sinks to his knees in front of Sasuke, both sitting on the floor in the empty apartment. The cold November air seeps in through the open window that Sasuke hadn’t bothered to shut after it got dark. The stark fluorescent lights wash them in a sick glow, carving out every broken and maimed part of them and laying it in stark contrast. 

“You see your home; a place where your friends live, a place to protect that protects you,” Sasuke says, refusing to look away from Naruto no matter how much he wants to. “I see a prison. I see my clan’s blood everywhere I turn, I see a place built on dead kids. Even you -” he swallows. He knows he doesn’t have to say it. He doesn’t have to describe to Naruto how he’s been reduced to Sasuke’s jail guard. The tight leash on which he is kept. He doesn’t have to tell him that even now, they are likely being watched. And tomorrow, the ANBU will force him to debrief everything that has happened. 

“I’m not an idiot, Sasuke,” Naruto bites back. “You think that after everything, I don’t see the problems with this village? I know this place is broken, but I also know the only way to fix it is to fix it. What will change if you run away? How will all the things that hurt us ever get better if we just leave them to fester?” Naruto inches forward, and for a moment, Sasuke thinks he’s going to take his hand, but he doesn’t. “You’re right that this place is built on a rotten foundation, but we still have each other, and together I know that we can rebuild it. If we have each other, we can do anything.”

It’s so naive. Idealistic. It’s like nothing has changed; like they’re still kids and Naruto just wants him to come home. A familiar anger sharpens to something much more desperate; why can’t you see me? Why can’t you understand?

“It’s not enough,” his voice breaks as he says it. Like it’s trying to stop him; like it can recognize the way it will be taken when said to someone whose life has set him up to only hear you’re not enough. But it’s the truth, and Sasuke loves Naruto too much to lie to him.

Naruto flinches back like he’s been hit, but Sasuke barrels forward, knowing that if he stops, he’ll never be able to get it out. “I tried, Naruto,” he breathes, and it sounds pathetically like begging. “I tried to fix it, and look where I am now.”

“But together, we-”

“It’s not about us!” Sasuke snaps. “It’s not about you. It’s about me. It’s about surviving. If things can’t be fixed, if the village is determined to stay the same village that killed everyone I love, then it’s me that has to change. I have to find a way to live in this world, and I can’t do that here. There’s nothing left for me here.”

Something shifts in Naruto’s expression; a shuttering of the blinds, or a closing of a door. 

“There’s nothing left for you here,” he mutters back, shaking his head. He looks down and Sasuke wants more than anything to be able to make him understand. He wants to be able to tell him, it’s never been you that I wanted to leave. He wants to ask him to come with him.

As the silence stretches out, he can feel the words in his mouth, begging to be said, but he swallows them down like bitter medicine. 

Naruto stands slowly. He won’t look at Sasuke, and Sasuke has nothing left to say; all he can do is watch his back as he leaves 

___

It’s cold and dark when Sasuke slips out of his apartment, gray dawn only barely providing enough light for him to lock his apartment and slide the key under the mat. 

He doesn’t linger at the doorstep, or take his time to say goodbye to the apartment that he’s stayed for the last two years, not one to perform sentimentality to a place that hasn’t really earned it. Rather, he silently slips away, with nothing but a small pack of supplies and his chokuto on his back.

As he makes his way down the grim concrete steps, he glances up at the sky. It’s bright enough to tell that it’s overcast, dim clouds churning into what may end up being rain if he’s unlucky enough, like a fresh bruise forming on battered skin. 

Sasuke huffs, pulling the neck of his jacket over his mouth against the chill of the wind. A little rain is not enough to stop him from leaving, although it is inconvenient. He’s traveled through worse and survived. 

The streets of Konoha are mostly empty at this time of day, only a few weary merchants milling around, preparing for their day. They mostly pay him no mind, too focused on their own affairs to wonder why the freshly-free convict is out and about. 

During his probation, once they let him have semi-free reign of the village, this was the only time of day he didn’t feel suffocated. He would get up every day before dawn to go on runs, train. Early enough that no one else was awake, and he could finally be alone. Early enough that Masato didn’t have dirty work for him to do yet, and Naruto still wouldn’t be awake to monitor him for several hours. It was the only time he felt human. 

As he reaches the end of the main street out of town, he catches sight of the lopsided sign for Chiho’s, the small, hole in the wall bakery at the very end of the street and he almost pauses. 

The orange cat that lives in the window display among all the lovingly cared for plants lounges, blinking slowly at him before going back to carefully grooming their fur. Past the window he can see Chiho in the kitchen, already up and working all by herself despite her age. For a moment, he considers going in. Saying goodbye.

There aren’t a lot of people here that will miss him, but every week he comes in to buy her sausage pan, and she smiles at him and calls him by his name, and he thinks that must count for something.

Chiho looks up, catching sight of him through the window. She smiles and waves at him, hands covered in white flour. Sasuke waves back, but he doesn’t go in. 

As he approaches the gate, he slows. There, leaning against it in his vaguely uniform olive green flak jacket, is Naruto. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, headband secure on his forehead. He looks tired, barely awake, and Sasuke finds himself mildly surprised that Naruto could drag himself out of bed at this hour. It may be more probable that he never went to sleep. 

Sasuke feels resentment towards himself as he looks at Naruto because even now, even after a fight, after these years, after everything, he still wants to see him. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter to him that Naruto wouldn’t see him off, in the end it was of no use. In the end, he can’t help himself. 

As Sasuke comes closer, Naruto finally looks up, straightening and uncrossing his arms as he sees him. He looks surprised, like Sasuke was the one who may not show. Like this isn’t the only way out of town.  

“Hi,” Naruto breathes as Sasuke finally comes to a stop in front of him. He fidgets a little, clearly unable to hold himself still.

“You came,” Sasuke replies. He could brush past him, refuse to engage. But he won’t.

“I did,” Naruto rubs  the back of his neck as the silence creeps back in between them. 

Sasuke does not try to fill the space with something meaningless. He has nothing left to say and no comfort to give, so he just watches. 

Naruto looks down for a moment before he breathes out sharply and looks back at Sasuke. “Listen, I couldn’t- You might not want to see me, but I couldn’t leave it like that after we fought last night.”

Sasuke does not correct him about his desire to see him. There’s something too honest about that; wanting to see him despite arguing, despite being misunderstood, despite everything. The truth that it doesn’t matter, Sasuke will always want to see him, is a truth that he can’t stand to speak aloud.

“I’m still leaving,” Sasuke says instead.

“I know,” Naruto says quickly. “I didn’t come to stop you.”

“Then why did you come?”

Naruto presses his lips together for a moment, hesitating before he reaches around and pulls a wooden box out of his back pocket. He looks down at it for a second before handing it to Sasuke.

Sasuke frowns at him before examining it warily. The box is made of smooth, intricately carved, dark wood. It looks expensive. Certainly more expensive than anything he currently owns, and more expensive than anything he’s ever seen Naruto buy.

“What is it?” 

Naruto looks a little sheepish but he just nods towards the box. “Open it.”

Sasuke shoots him a look, but gently slides open the lid with his thumb. Inside, nestled in beautifully printed blue satin, is a calligraphy set. 

Not just any calligraphy set. It’s stunning. The brushes are well made, with delicate kanji written on the side and not a hair out of place. An Ogatsu inkstone sits next to that, completely untouched except for a delicate pine tree etched into the cover. The ink stick is similarly intricate, but on it twists a branch of a tree where several birds perch, gold plating dusting their wings. 

He lets his fingers brush over the miniscule painting, so fine but so detailed at the same time. It must have taken the artist hours. Hidden in the bottom of the box is a stack of high quality rice paper. Enough to last at least a year. 

“Naruto-”

“Look, I-” Naruto interrupts, “I thought maybe you could write to me.”

Sasuke looks up at him, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

“Because, Sasuke,” Naruto says, sounding a little exasperated. “I care about you. I want to know you’re okay. I want to know you haven’t died in a ditch somewhere.”

Sasuke looks at him for a long moment. The cold November breeze rustles through the trees, tousling his hair a little, brushing it into his eyes. He knows that Naruto cares for him, a fact made unignorable over the years that they have known each other. He doesn’t understand why it affects him to hear it spoken aloud.

“I want you to be happy, Sasuke,” he says, finally, his voice settling into something more serious. “It was selfish to try to keep you somewhere you aren’t happy, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’ve just-” he huffs, shaking his head, “I’ve always been selfish when it comes to you. All the want, sometimes I don’t know what to do with it. It feels so big and it just- it gets in the way. And that’s not fair, so I’m sorry.”

Sasuke feels distant from himself as he listens to Naruto speak, like it’s happening to someone else. The words are surreal, meaning floating around like dust in a sunbeam, drifting away as he tries to catch it. 

“All the want?” Sasuke says slowly. 

Naruto looks at him, like he’s searching for what to say. Like perhaps he has a stack of unfinished letters on his desk at home, just like Sasuke. 

Although it’s not quite that. There’s a surety in Naruto’s gaze that makes him think he knows exactly what he wants to say, he just doesn’t know how. 

Naruto shakes his head, the motion a little frantic, like he’s coming unhinged. “You know,” it’s so softly spoken that Sasuke can only just barely make out the words, “after all this, you must know.”

There have been times in Sasuke’s life that he feels like he’s watching from the outside. Like some sort of voyeur who can see the strings of the narrative and can recognize when a moment comes that will change its course. The death of his parents, the death of his brother. Leaving Konoha, coming back. 

And as Sasuke stands in front of Naruto, gray light of the impending storm casting them in a muted shade, cold wind blowing right through them, Konoha down one path, the rest of the world down the other, he feels the moment coming. He knows he will remember this.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. And it’s not true. He knows it isn’t true, and he can tell Naruto knows too, but he wants to hear him say it aloud. For once, he doesn’t want it to be an unspoken understanding. He wants it to be tangible.

Naruto takes another step forward, a devastating resolve on his face. The resolve of someone sent to his death, determined to go with grace. 

“Sasuke,” he breathes, his voice breaking on his name. The moment hangs between them in a liminal space between before and after. It feels so heavy that Sasuke swears he could reach out and touch it. He could measure its mass, find exactly the gravity with which it pulls them in. “I love you,” he says, finally. The moment crashes, like the crest of a wave into the sharp rocks of a cliff. “I’m in love with you.”

To hear it is unlike any pain he’d ever felt in his life. It feels like everything he’s ever wanted, and everything he can never have. It feels like the warmth of a bed and being thrown out into the snow. It feels like a cosmic shift that still, mercilessly, doesn’t change things in a way that matters. 

Tears well up and for once this is the kind of grief that you really can’t hide. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself cry.

He hears Naruto shift closer before he’s pulled forward to his chest, Naruto’s arms wrapping firmly around him, warm and secure. Sasuke knows it won’t last; this feeling of safety, of love. As is the way of the world, it will be met with pain in equal measure, but just for a moment, he buries his face in Naruto’s shoulder and lets himself feel it. 

As he feels Naruto’s closed mouth press to the crook of his neck, he realizes they’ve never hugged. They’ve fought this close before. They’ve collapsed on one another after tiring themselves out with fists and vitriol. But he doesn’t think that they’ve ever been this close without the pretense of violence.

He closes his eyes. He breathes in. He will remember this.

As they pull apart, Sasuke sees the tears on Naruto’s face, and he knows they are feeling the same pain. The brutal, horrific, inescapable pain of love that doesn’t matter.

Love was never the missing piece between them, it was everything else. It was the cruelty of fates that were inextricably linked while simultaneously being doomed from the beginning. It was the world around them. It was the lives they were forced to lead. Love itself was never the problem, but the truth is that love alone is not enough. 

Chapter Text

As the sun begins to set on his first day of freedom, Sasuke decides to make camp. 

He’s still in the heart of Fire Country; thick, dark forests for miles in any direction, monotonous to travel through, but in terms of environments to camp in, he could certainly do worse. Sasuke doesn’t love camping, but he doesn’t have the cash to spend on inns, so it’ll have to do.

About a fifteen minute walk from the main road, Sasuke finds a clearing that will be just enough space for his tent and a small fire. Tall, twisted oak trees rise up all around the patch of grass, exposing it to the purple and orange hues of the setting sun above.

He thinks, distantly, that it’s beautiful. But in every shadow, every curve of a branch, every chirp of birds in the canopy, he is weighed down by its familiarity. The only comfort is that soon it will be behind him.

Sasuke puts his pack down and digs out his tent, putting the tarp down. He stares at the small pile of cloth and sticks for a moment, trying to remember exactly how to set it up.

“It’s not brain surgery, Sasuke,” Suigetsu took the pole from him, impatient as always. “I’ll show you one time and then you’re on your own.” 

“You say that every time,” sneered Karin from her seat by the fire pit. “It’s almost as if you like helping.”

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” Suigetsu snapped back, already engrossed in sliding the poles through the pieces of tarp. Sasuke did not chime in, nor did he mention the color at the tips of Suigetsu’s ears. He certainly did not mention that privately, he did not mind being helped. 

He shakes the memory away, trying to focus on the task at hand. Despite the numerous times he’s seen it done, it takes him enough time to wrangle the tent into any kind of workable shape that by the time he finally gets it, the sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving him in dark blue dusk. 

Defeated and sore, he wanders into the forest to find some kindling, picking his way through the dim forest, hardly avoiding losing an eye on shadowy branches that extend into his path and stumbling over logs on the ground that he can’t make out. 

After accumulating a shocking number of bruises and slow-bleeding scratches, he just barely gathers enough sticks for a meager fire, blindly making his way back to the clearing with an aching stomach and a haze of dizziness. 

He scratches a patch of grass barren to prevent the fire from spreading, arranging the sticks as best he can and taking a seat as he fishes around in his pack for the fire starter.

The fire doesn’t light on the first try, or the second, or the third. Sasuke breathes out slowly; it’s dark and cold, his fingers are stiff, his stomach is empty. The rawness of exhaustion and frustration rise within him like a child throwing a tantrum, but he shoves it away and tries again. 

The fire sprung to life and Karin held her hands up in smug triumph.

“No way,” Suigetsu mumbled, chin in his palm as he slouched by the fire. “You must have that thing rigged.”

Karin just shrugged, grinning as she put the starter back in her pack, not even bothering to give it back to Juugo who had failed, passed it to Sasuke, who passed it to Suigetsu, who finally passed it to Karin, who, unsurprisingly, got it in one. 

“Is there a trick to it?” Juugo asked mildly, starting to set up their dinner, passing the pot to Sasuke to put over the fire.

“What are you talking about ‘is there a trick to it’,” griped Suigetsu, “she’s just knocking some rocks together, what could the trick possibly be?”

Juugo shrugged and Karin cackled, “Maybe I’m just lucky.”

Sasuke blinks and finally the fire comes to life. He stares into it for a long moment, holding his aching hands out to warm them, trying to will the memory away. It is of no use to him now; it will not warm him as the fire does, it will not make him full. All it does is take up space.

Sasuke takes out a ration pack, cutting it open with a kunai and holding it over the fire to warm its contents. He lets himself just be for a moment, appreciating the quietness of the forest; only the crackle of the fire and the occasional shift in the leaves above him to fill the space. 

He is alone now. No one looking over his shoulder, no one monitoring him to ensure good behavior, his freedom dangled before him like a carrot before a horse. No Masato pushing at the boundaries of him every day to shape him into something else, no Naruto to catch looking at him with that complicated expression, half desire and half sadness.

It feels good to be free of those things, like casting off a jacket that is too tight. But as he sits there, staring at the fire, he notices its absence in the cold wind against his skin. 

He ignores the sinking feeling, pulling the steaming ration off the fire. It doesn’t smell particularly good, some strange mix of rice and protein stand-in that results in an unappetizing slurry, but he takes his chopsticks and eats it anyway. 

“It’s not going to taste good,” Itachi warned, mild amusement on his face as he sat stick straight on the porch, Sasuke swinging his legs next to him.

“I don’t care,” Sasuke insisted stubbornly. It was Itachi’s ration that he’d gotten from his big, important job. Sasuke wanted to prove he could handle it. 

Itachi did not quite roll his eyes, but the implication was there as he relented, handing the little pouch to Sasuke.

Eagerly, he took as big a bite as he could fit on his chopsticks and stuffed it in his mouth. Sasuke froze, trying desperately not to spit it out. It tasted more like poured concrete than anything else, but the texture-

Itachi let out a rare laugh as he watched Sasuke, barely audible but to Sasuke, unignorable. Sasuke’s eyes widened, unbelieving of such a thing being because of him. He’d only seen Shisui make him laugh before. 

“That’s what I thought,” Itachi chuckled as he reached for the packet. 

Sasuke jerked the packet away, hurriedly taking another bite of the disgusting mixture. If it would make Itachi laugh like that again, he’d eat the whole thing. 

Sasuke blinks, hand paused halfway to his mouth, all the rice fallen from his chopsticks. 

He relaxes his wrist, putting the ration down. Suddenly he finds he can’t stomach it.

Sasuke presses his fingers into his eyes until they start to hurt, physically shaking his head as if that will clear the memories from it. Sometimes he wishes desperately to be reduced to a blank slate; all his memories, all his experience, wiped to nothing. Maybe that would make things easier, make existing in the world a little less like walking through a minefield.

But without his memories, who would he be? Without these people, these moments, these things that have happened to him, what would be left?

Sasuke removes his fingers, blinking until the black spots recede from his vision. He sighs, reaching back towards his pack, rummaging around for his water until his hand reaches something smooth and cold. He stills for a moment before pulling it out.

The calligraphy set sits heavy in his hand. He really should get rid of it, but he finds that the thought of that makes him feel a little sick. Slowly, he slides off the cover. 

It’s so beautifully made, Sasuke isn’t sure where Naruto could have even got it on such short notice. He wonders if he had it before they fought. 

Sasuke removes the section that holds all the brushes and ink, exposing the papers below. Mindlessly, he picks them up. Even the paper looks handmade, fine sturdy quality that would do justice to the expensive ink. He flips through the papers until he catches sight of black marks on the second sheet from the top.

Frowning, Sasuke pulls back the sheet to look at it. 

There, written in regular pen, as if he didn’t want to sully the unused ink and brushes, is Naruto’s clumsy handwriting: I hope this is enough paper for you to write to me until we see each other again. If you run out, I’ll send you more. Or maybe I can give it to you myself. Anyway, don’t leave it up to my imagination to wonder how you’re doing. Stay safe, Sasuke. 

Sasuke brushes his fingers over his own name, somehow written with more care than any of the other words, and tears well up in his eyes, blurring it beyond recognition. He understands what Naruto meant about the want. It’s too big to know what to do with. It feels paralyzing, like he’s stuck in an eternal paradox; he can’t live with it nor can he live without it. 

His body ached, every fiber of him begging him to stop, to just let him collapse into the shallow water, to settle like a stone, but he couldn’t. No matter how he wanted to, he couldn’t stop. He had no choice but to finish this. 

He kicked Naruto away, falling back into the sharp rocks and cold water beneath him as Naruto did the same. 

The exhaustion they both felt was clear in the way they moved, almost punch drunk and delirious, running on dogged determination and nothing else. 

They were both so stubborn, and Sasuke was sure that it would be the end of them. Each unyielding, pushing relentlessly against one another until they both snap. 

Gasping, he pulled himself up, every joint aching like they were worn to the quick. He watched Naruto sway in front of him, his own foolish determination thrown back in his face like sand. 

Naruto raised his fist and Sasuke braced himself, curling his hand up to land a blow, but instead they just fell together, Naruto’s knuckles against his forehead and his own against his stomach. 

For a long moment, they just stood there, breaths coming heavy and uneven. They looked at eachother, the question hanging in the small space between them: Is this really how it ends?

Sasuke knew his answer. “I have no choice,” he breathes, answering as if the question had been asked aloud. 

They fell to their knees together, in sync like always, like they were born that way, and Sasuke hated it. He wished so desperately for some sign that they were not who he knew they were. Just a moment, where they did not perfectly align, like they were made to be together. Just one piece of evidence he could cling to and use to convince himself that it was right, that it was possible to sever their bond. A means to blind himself to every single moment of their past, to make it easier. But no such moment came. 

Their heads bowed together, close enough that he could feel the warmth of Naruto’s ragged breath against his face. They knelt there for a long moment, just breathing. For such a violent scene, it was quiet. Only the distant sound of the waterfall and the labored breaths of both of them breaking the silence. 

Naruto’s headband slid from his forehead, falling into the dirty cold water between them. They looked down at it for a long moment, breaths coming fast and rough as the leaf village insignia glistened up at them, almost taunting. Like it’s saying “look what I’ve done.”

Sasuke swallowed thickly. He felt dizzy, chakra almost entirely depleted, and he knew it was the same for Naruto. He could feel it under his hand, the last bit of chakra from the kyuubi. He squeezed his eyes shut. He can’t lose, not now. Not after all this. Not after everything he’s done. Everything that’s been done to him. 

He opened his eye, rinnegan flashing to life, and he felt the flow of the kyuubi’s- of Naruto’s-  chakra replenishing his reserves. Naruto gasped against him, lurching forward, tipping towards Sasuke. 

His forehead brushed against Sasuke’s cheek as his hand fell from his forehead, clutching at the collar of his shirt just to keep himself upright.

Sasuke could feel his breath against his jaw, shaking and uneven. Warm. Sasuke closed his eyes tightly against the ache of it. The cruelty of his mind, forcing him to notice the softness of Naruto. The closeness. Even then, as he was trying to take his life, sever his final connection in this world, he couldn’t help but long for it. He couldn’t help but wish, just once, that he had experienced what it felt like to touch him for a reason other than violence. He couldn’t help but wish that he had heard Naruto speak to him softly. He couldn’t help but wish things had been different. 

And as Naruto pulled back, nose against Sasuke’s cheek, hand clutching at his shoulder desperately, Sasuke turned towards him, like a compass needle towards true north, or a moth to a flame. Their noses brushed, he could feel Naruto’s breaths, unsteady against his lips. Naruto’s eyes slid shut, brows furrowed in pain or grief or something unnamable. For a moment, Sasuke did the same. He felt the places that they touched, sensation both violent and gentle at once. Like they had forgotten that they were fighting. Like the anger had seeped from their bodies, leaving them in a position for anger but with nothing behind it. Like waking up from sleepwalking, unsure of how you got there. 

Naruto shifted further and his lip brushed against the corner of Sasuke’s mouth. He should have pulled away, but his mind was soaked in anger and sadness and desire, and the touch felt like everything he wanted. Gentleness, love, care. He shifted closer, despite himself.

Naruto breathed out shakily as they exchanged air. Sasuke felt wetness against his lip and he didn’t know which one of them was crying, but he tasted salt. He shouldn’t. He can’t. But there, it felt like the end of the world, and he found that couldn’t help himself.

He shifted one last time, and Naruto did the same, finally bringing them together. He tasted blood on Naruto’s lips where they’d been split, but they moved together like they were always meant for this, Naruto’s arm around his shoulder, his hand in his hair, Sasuke’s hands at his jaw, and it was the final crack in the dam. Sasuke felt hot tears spill from his eyes, rolling down his already dirty and bloody face. This was it. This was the last moment before it was all over.

Sasuke held Naruto’s face in his hands, careful not to touch his swollen eye in a moment of astounding irony. He felt the warmth of his skin under his hands, the taste of him, the way his breaths sounded. He felt the desperate way Naruto held his neck, the way he pressed closer even now, even like this. He let it burn into his memory forever, as the last one they will have together. 

Naruto pulled back, just enough to speak, his forehead still resting against Sasuke’s. “Don’t do this,” his voice was hardly above a whisper. Sasuke could feel it against his lips. “Please, Sasuke, don’t-“ 

“I have to,” he choked out, shaking his head and shutting his eyes, tears falling as he allowed himself one last moment.

Abruptly, because Sasuke knew that if it was gentle he would never be able to go through with it, they parted, Naruto collapsing into the water in front of him with nothing to hold onto. 

With great effort, Sasuke pulled himself to his feet, staggering against the dizziness. His head spun but he didn’t give it a chance to stop before he summoned the chidori.

This was it. The final moment before he could finally be alone. It tasted bitter like Naruto’s blood in his mouth. 

Naruto did not even lift his head at the cries of the chidori and the bright blue flashes that doused them in a cold light, and Sasuke was grateful. He didn’t want to see his face as he took his life. He could not bear it.

He turned off his sharingan. “Farewell,” he breathed, his voice breaking, “my one and only.”

The tears roll down his face and he closes his eyes, harshly wiping them away with the back of his hand. He looks down at the letter, and he loves it, he wishes he could burn the words into his skin. 

Sasuke breathes out sharply, and with little thought, he drops the paper into the dying fire, watching as it consumes the words, reducing them to ash. 

There isn’t enough of him left to sacrifice pieces of himself carrying scraps of love that don’t really mean anything, but if he gives himself the chance, he knows that’s exactly what he would do. He would carry those words around in his pack, letting them replace his water and food with the belief that they, alone, could sustain him. But there’s nothing there. In the end, he would starve to death, waiting for something as empty as a letter to fill him. 

___

It takes Sasuke three weeks to make it to River Country. 

If he was really determined, he could have made it in less, picked more straightforward roads, but where he ends up is of little consequence to him. He just follows whatever path is before him so long as it avoids villages and cities, and is pointed away from Konoha. 

For the last several hours, it’s just been rice paddies. One after the next, rice straw in neat golden rows, or burned, leaving unnatural looking black fields behind. It’s far too cold for any rice to actually be growing now, well into December, the winter chill well and truly set in, stinging at Sasuke’s cheeks as he makes his way down the isolated dirt road. 

He’s low on supplies after avoiding civilization for a solid month, and he desperately needs a heavier jacket, cold making it harder and harder to sleep at night without one. 

He’d put off a resupply trip as long as he could, even trying his hand at fishing and hunting, but unsurprisingly, he was no good at it. The jacket, he could maybe let go a little longer, but he had eaten his last ration this morning. He’ll need to find a village. 

Around noon, after not seeing a single other soul the entire day, Sasuke comes across a farmer, bent over in one of the fields, dutifully pulling the rice straw and collecting it in a basket beside him. 

Despite his strong impulse not to speak to anyone, he makes his way off the road into the rice field, soil frozen and ragged under his feet as he approaches the man who doesn’t seem to notice him.

Sasuke clears his throat, finally catching his attention. He glances up, catching his hat before the stiff wind can carry it off, squinting up at Sasuke but making no move to stand. 

“You lost?” He calls out, moving his basket of straw to the other side and stretching his back. 

Sasuke walks closer, picking his way through the uneven field. “Just passing through,” he replies, concerned that an admission of being lost would draw out the interaction. “Which way is the closest town?”

The man stays crouched down, removing his hand as Sasuke approaches him. He visibly stiffens as he looks up at Sasuke before slowly getting to his feet. 

“Not from around here, huh?” He asks, voice and expression notably less open as they had been a moment ago. Sasuke fights the urge to look down at himself to determine what the man could have seen up close that he would have been able to a moment ago. 

Sasuke holds himself still, not wanting to give the man any reason to escalate the tension. 

“No, I’m not.”

The man regards him before clearly coming to some sort of conclusion and sighing, sticking his pitchfork into the hard dirt beneath him. “Keep going down this road a couple more miles,” he nods to the northwest. “Eventually you’ll get to a crossroad. Take the left path, you’ll get to the village eventually.”

Sasuke swallows against the palpable tension, but nods his thanks, turning to take his leave.

“I wouldn’t stay long in that village,” the man says to his back. Sasuke pauses, turning back. “Us villagers don’t take kindly to shinobi out here. Especially not after the mess you made of the war.” His tone is even but there is an unmistakable venom in it as he looks intently at Sasuke’s face. “Eyes like that are nothing but trouble.”

The pieces fall into place. He could tell the man that he isn’t a shinobi, not really. He could tell him all the ways in which he agrees with his ire. But in the end, he’s right: eyes like he has are nothing but trouble.

Without a word or even a nod of acknowledgement, he turns his back and takes his leave. 

Sasuke does not look back for a long time, just keeping his eyes on the road ahead, putting one foot in front of the other.

He is not one to run from things. Or, he didn’t used to be. When all the conflict was violence and fighting, he felt that he could hold his ground. 

When it was simple, him versus whoever was standing in his way, he never once thought of running away. But now, things have changed. 

It takes him nearly the rest of the afternoon to reach the outskirts of the village.

Before he goes any further in, he pauses, pulling his bangs forward to cover up his rinnegan before he looks down at the rest of him. He’s wearing a dark blue tunic and relatively inconspicuous black pants, but even though his jacket covers the one on his back, the Uchiha crest sits proudly on the cuffs of his shirt. 

He considers trying to hide them, but quickly brushes the thought off. That’s not part of him he could stand pushing to the side, not even for this. 

Calling it good enough, Sasuke steels himself and makes his way into the village. 

As with most of the villages in the Land of Rivers, the village is situated around a river like trees along an embankment. It’s a relatively small village, only one row of shops, right along the river, but it will do just fine. It’s better that it’s small anyway, less chance of being recognized.

He acquires the food and basic supplies with no trouble, the shopkeepers hardly giving him a second glance, just taking his money without a word exchanged. 

As he assesses his finances, such as they are, he is chagrined to find only a few meager coins left. He looks at the prices of the coats hanging in the stall and puts away his coin purse.

Just as he’s about to take his leave, he catches sight of something laying on the display counter. He steps forward to examine the black leather eyepatch, simple and well made, just a buckle at the back to keep it on. 

“How much for this?” he asks, holding it up.

The shopkeeper, an unfriendly looking middle aged woman, looks up from her seat, raising an eyebrow before hobbling over to him. 

“Hm,” she takes it from his hand, inspecting it before she glances back at him. “You got a bum eye or something?”

“Or something.” 

“A bum eye and a missing arm, huh?” she hands the eyepatch back to him, crossing her arms. 

The woman looks tough, long dark hair braided behind her back and skin littered with gnarled scars, an especially large one cutting across the side of her mouth, clearly not healed correctly. 

“Just unlucky, I guess,” Sasuke replies noncommittally. 

The woman snorts. “Uh huh,” she rolls her eyes, “is that what we’re calling shinobi these days? I’ve been out of the game for a minute.”

Sasuke sighs, looking down at the Uchiha crests on his wrist. 

“It’s not just that,” the woman says following his gaze. “You’ve just got that look. Even without the Uchiha crest, I can see it all over you.”

Sasuke bristles, growing tired of this. “Are you going to sell me this or not?”

The woman laughs, leaning against the counter. “I like you, kid. How about this, ex-shinobi discount- I’ll give it to you for three coins.”

Sasuke thinks of the money he has left, of which three coins is a significant portion, and he breathes out. 

Without thinking too hard about it, he fishes them out and hands them to her, sliding the patch over his eye, as she rummages around to get him change. The smooth leather is cool against his skin, but at least this way he doesn’t have to have hair in his eyes. 

“So where you headed?” the woman asks, sitting back down behind the counter, holding him hostage with his change still in her hand 

“Just traveling,” he replies. 

The woman’s face softens a little bit and she nods. “Ah, I see,” she says, looking down for a moment. “I did the same thing after my partners died. Third great war. Never could hold a kunai after that without getting sick, so the choice was made for me.”

Sasuke doesn’t know what to say in the face of that. There’s no comfort to offer. He could commiserate, but the idea of spilling his guts for a stranger is nauseating enough that he wouldn’t do it to diffuse the pressure, so he says nothing, just giving her a solemn nod.

She shakes her head, and there’s understanding in her expression, like she didn’t really expect him to say anything. 

“That your only jacket?” she asks as she finally hands him his change. 

Sasuke nods, dropping the change into his bag. 

The woman nods back and stands, walking to the back of her shop to pull down one of the heavy fur lined jackets from the back that Sasuke would never be able to afford. She hands it to him. 

“I don’t have the money,” Sasuke tries to push it back towards her. “I can’t take this.”

The woman shrugs. “Take it anyway.”

Sasuke hesitates for a moment before taking it from her scarred hands. He’s not really in a position to turn down charity. “Thank you.”

The woman gives him a long look before she smiles sadly. “Good luck on your travels, kid. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

That night as Sasuke sits in front of his fire, warm for the first time in weeks, he gets out the calligraphy set. 

He carefully slides off the intricately carved top, deftly setting it up. He places the brushes on the delicate porcelain holder, he lays out the paper between two weights, he pours a little of his water onto the inkstone before methodically beginning to grind it. 

He doesn’t know what compels him to do it; perhaps it’s just weakness, no matter how hard he tries he can’t snuff out the desire to reach out to Naruto. Perhaps it’s that everything reminds him of him, every little thing that happens makes him want to turn to him to make sure he saw it too. Perhaps it’s the fact that even miles away from Konoha, weeks between him and his last day of imprisonment, he still feels suffocated- the deep, sick uneasiness that he thought could be attributed to existing there has not entirely gone away. 

He dips the end of the perfectly balanced brush in the smooth, glassy ink before his hand stills over the page. 

Sasuke sits there, hand poised, for a long time, light of the fire flickering the shadow across the blank page in front of him. He remembers sitting at his desk weeks, days, hours before the end of his probation, paper flat in front of him, pen in hand, with nothing to say.

Or, not nothing. Too much. 

With Naruto, it’s never that there’s not enough to talk about, it’s that the enormity of their relationship is unwieldy to express. He’s always thought it’s better to stay silent.

But now, as he sits alone and thinks of Naruto, he’s not sure anymore. He thinks of the roughness of his voice as he said I love you. He thinks that even though those words don’t begin to cover all that they are, they aren’t worthless in terms of expression. They aren’t meaningless. 

Ink drips onto the page, like a punishment for so much hesitation, sullying the beautiful rice paper. 

I love you feels different when it comes from Sasuke. Love has always been a tool used against him, a means to control, a means to maim. Love has always felt like a weight, holding him at the bottom of a lake while he struggles uselessly for air. 

To say I love you is far too ugly for Naruto. The pain that it invokes in its utterance is a contamination of what he wants to express to him, but anything less than that feels like a mockery. 

Sasuke looks back at his paper, blank except for the splotch of ink. He thinks of the retired shinobi’s hands, as she gave him the jacket, marred with scars and sunspots from a rough life, and he puts brush to paper. 

Some time later, as the light from the fire begins to die, he examines the drawing. He’s no artist, but as he looks at the rough sketch of the hands, pushing the jacket towards him insistently, it isn’t so bad. It’s better than nothing, at least Naruto will know that he hasn’t died. 

He dips the brush once more in the ink and hesitates only a moment before writing, in small script at the bottom of the page, yours, Sasuke. 

___

He makes it all the way up into the Land of Earth before he needs to restock again. 

The choice to travel north in the dead middle of January is not one that he would call his most intelligent, but his other options were wandering into Sand territory or going back towards Konoha, both of which he didn’t even take the time to consider. 

Sasuke’s never been to the Land of Earth before, craggy granite mountains and pine forests a far cry from Land of Fire. It’s much colder too, snow becoming a regular occurrence that he must deal with in his travels. 

As he makes his way into a village that sits at the base of a large snow capped mountain, his first task is to find a post office; one of his letters to Naruto burning a hole in his pack. The man at the counter gives him a dubious look when he states that he wants his letter to go all the way to Konoha, but he charges him the obscenely high post without argument. 

“It’ll take a while to get there,” the man says as he puts the letter away. “Takes the birds longer through the snow.”

Sasuke gives him a nod and takes his leave. It’s fine if it takes a while, it’s not like he had anything important to say anyway. 

Sasuke looks over the meager few coins he has left, just enough to buy him some food and some replacement fire starters for the ones wearing out. 

His lack of funds is something that he’ll have to figure out sooner rather than later. Perhaps he can pick up some odd jobs if he sticks to larger roads. Not like anyone up here would know him anyway, not like down in Fire country. 

Sasuke sighs, throwing his supplies in his pack and making his way out of town. He walks down the path and looks up at the sky. It’s got that dull gray look of snow. He’ll have to find somewhere more covered than usual to sleep tonight. 

The thought is grim; another night sleeping on his thin pad in his barely insulated tent. Luckily the jacket that the shinobi had given him is thick enough that it keeps him warm, but he can’t deny the persistent ache in his joints that sleeping on the cold ground for a little over two months has given him. 

Before he can sink too deep into a spiral of self pity, he catches sight of a cart stopped in the middle of the road. At first glance, he sees nothing out of the ordinary, but as he gets closer he notices that the whole cart is tilted to one side, someone crouched at the back wheel. 

He could just walk past, just look the other way. He doesn’t make a habit of engaging with any of the people he sees in passing, easier to just keep his head down and move forward, but it’s about to start snowing, and the person is on their own. 

Sasuke clears his throat. “Everything alright?” he asks as he comes to the side of the cart. There’s a large brown horned ox tied to the cart that casts a wary glance at him, followed by the owner of the cart who does the same.

The woman, probably in her forties or fifties, hair tied back in a cloth, clothes utilitarian and worn, stands, gesturing to her cart. “Damn rotten wheel finally gave out,” she sighs, “should have replaced it months ago, but you know how it is.”

Sasuke doesn’t really know how it is, but he nods.

“Can’t very well drag these supplies back with a broken wheel, even with Kiku here,” she nods back at the ox. 

Sasuke bites his tongue. He really should be on his way to find a safe place to sleep for the night. He breathes out slowly.

“How far are you going?” he asks against his better judgment. “I can hold up the back while you steer the ox.”

The woman raises an eyebrow at him, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a once over. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you’ve only got one arm, my friend.”

Sasuke shrugs. “One arm is enough.”

The woman’s eyes widen for a moment before she bursts into laughter, shaking her head. “Alright, sure, fine,” she pushes off the cart. “My place isn’t far from here,” she calls back at him as she takes the reins of the ox. “I’m Tomomi, by the way.”

Sasuke doesn’t offer his name in return, only picking up the edge of the cart to hold the wheel off the ground as they move forward. 

It really isn’t far, only a couple of miles up the road to the gate, but the road up to the house is almost as long, and as they finally make it all the way to the traditional looking rural farmhouse through several miles of pastures and farmland, Sasuke’s arm is admittedly beginning to ache. 

The house isn’t extravagant, but it is beautiful; old, with nice clean lines and dark wood, settled at the center of hilly land. It looks natural there, like it could have grown out of the ground itself. 

Out of the house two people, both around Sasuke’s age, spill. 

“What took you so long, we were starting to get worried,” calls out the boy in a bright tone as he lets the gate to the yard bang shut behind him, followed closely by a girl who closes it quietly. 

“That stupid wheel finally gave out on my way home,” Tomomi gripes as they approach, already beginning to unload the large sacks of grain into the arms of the girl with the stoic expression, diametrically opposed to the boy who he assumes is her brother, judging by their similar faces and light brown hair that matches Tomomi’s. 

“Sorry, should have tended to that before you left,” the girl says quietly, hoisting a sack at least her bodyweight over her shoulder. 

Tomomi waves her off, “It’s fine, this lovely young man helped me out. No harm no foul.”

All eyes turn towards Sasuke, who had extricated himself from the action, standing over by Kiku who had begun nosing at his hand, looking for something to eat. 

“Stranger, these are my kids, Yuka and Hisoki,” she says, gesturing with her head at the girl and boy respectively. “Kids, this is…” she trails off expectantly .

Sasuke sighs internally, there is no easy way to brush off giving his name at this point so he doesn’t. “Sasuke.”

Yuka and Hisoki give him a nod which he stiffly returns before Kiku jostles him with her enormous head, becoming more persistent with every passing moment. 

Tomomi laughs again. “You should consider yourself lucky, Sasuke. Kiku’s a crotchety old lady, you should be honored that she’s taken a liking to you.” She looks back at Yuka and Hisoki. “Go put these supplies in the barn, will you? Sasuke, stay right there, I’ll get you your pay.”

They hadn’t discussed pay, but Sasuke’s in no place to turn it down, so he stays put as she rushes into the house.

Kiku nuzzles at his hand further and he lets it sink into her long rough fur, appreciating its warmth. Her eyes are big and soft, and it’s hard to imagine her being anything other than well mannered.

After a few moments, Tomomi comes back, handing Sasuke a fairly large sack of coins. 

He takes it with both hands, giving her a small bow. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile. “You really helped me out back there.”

Sasuke nods, giving Kiku one last stroke before he makes to leave.

“Hang on,” Tomomi says and he turns back around to see her carefully regarding him with her hands on her hips. “Where’re you headed next?”

“Nowhere in particular,” he replies. “East, probably.”

Tomomi presses her lips together. “Earth country is a bad place to be during the winter. Real rough terrain at least through February.”

Sasuke nods, unsure of what he is supposed to reply to the warning. 

Tomomi crosses her arms. “You should stay here for a while. We could really use the help.”

Sasuke balks at the offer, the thought of being stuck in one place for more than a night suffocating. But then again, the feeling of suffocating is one he has not thus far been able to escape, no matter how much he travels. 

“C’mon, I can offer you free room and board, plus cash at the end of it for however long you end up staying. It’s madness to try to travel in this weather, especially if you aren’t a local.”

As if listening to their conversation, the snow that has been threatening all afternoon begins to fall in powdery flakes, drifting gently from the gray sky. Sasuke sighs. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay for a while. Maybe a few days. The ache in his muscles and joints remind him that it’s been weeks since he slept in a heated place with a mattress, and he can’t deny the allure of that. Besides, he could use the cash.

“Alright,” he acquiesces. “I can’t stay long.”

Tomomi shrugs, “I’m not going to force you to stay.”

Sasuke nods, feeling stiff and unsure of himself. Tomomi gestures towards the house. “Let’s go in, it’s getting late. And I’m sure you could use a bath.”

They make their way through the old mossy thatch gate, and up through the door where Sasuke slides his shoes off in the vestibule. Warm light spills out of the house into the snowy gray twilight like it can’t physically be contained by its walls, and he can hear the sounds of cooking from somewhere inside. 

For a second as he stands in the threshold, he feels the impulse to turn back, part of him insisting that he shouldn’t be there, that something bad will happen if he allows himself to feel the warmth of a place like this. But Tomomi walks past him, nodding down the hallway. “There’s a shower down that way. Go get cleaned up while we finish dinner.”

Just like that, the decision is made for him. 

Even with his shoes off, he feels like he’s bringing dirt and grime onto the tatami mats that cover most of the floor, but it can’t be helped so he just slips down the hall into the bathroom.

There is a traditional bathtub, but Sasuke opts for the shower. The heat of the water and the vaguely orange blossom soap feels like it’s taking off a layer of skin along with the film of dirt and grime that has accumulated on him. He feels over sensitive to it, like the weeks of freezing cold weather and lukewarm-at-best cleaning has made him unaccustomed to the intensity of real warmth and comfort. 

He shouldn’t waste water, but after he’s cleaned himself he can’t help but close his eyes, steam making the air around him heavy and earthy as it wets the wood and rocks at the bottom of the shower.

Sasuke doesn’t realize that he had been falling asleep until a soft knock comes at the door and jerks him back to consciousness. 

“Um, I left some fresh clothes for you outside the door,” comes Hisoki’s voice. Sasuke glances at his shadow through the door. “Just put your dirty clothes in the basket and we can wash them. If you want.”

Sasuke doesn’t reply, and after a moment of fidgeting, Hisoki leaves. 

He turns off the water and dries himself with the inordinately soft towel before quickly dressing. They’re clearly Hisoki’s clothes. He’s approximately the same size as Sasuke, so he’s not surprised to see that they fit, just a little tight around the shoulders. He can see that they’ve been mended a few times, patches of fabric creatively cut into little clouds or flowers, sewn into the inside of the tunic.

He hesitates for a second before putting his eyepatch back on as well. 

Sasuke dumps his dirty clothes into the basket and makes his way towards the kitchen where he can hear people talking. 

The house⁶ itself is an interesting mixture of traditional and modern. Amidst the tatami mats, there’s a sunken hearth, complete with a teapot hanging in the middle. The home also has all its original rice paper doors, with well crafted woodwork on the doors and the rafters. There are parts that have clearly been updated, though. They have electricity and gas along with nice, relatively new appliances in the bathroom and what he can see of the kitchen. 

He exists on the threshold again, hovering at the edge of the kitchen. He feels out of place, like a stray dog that’s been taken in out of pity, but that isn’t really allowed where the people are.

Hisoki is the first to notice him, turning around and raising his eyebrows a little. “Oh! You got my clothes, good.” 

Sasuke moves a few more inches into the kitchen. 

“I wasn’t sure they’d fit you, but they look okay,” he says, a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sasuke only nods. Tomomi glances over her shoulder from where she’s spooning fresh rice from the cooker into some bowls. 

“Sasuke, will you grab the pan and put it on the table out there?” Tomomi says.

Feeling better with something to do, Sasuke grabs the pan of salmon in what smells like a miso sauce of some sort.

“Hope you like fish,” Hisoki remarks, moving past him to grab chopsticks. 

“I’m not picky.” This is the first home cooked meal Sasuke has had in months, he’d eat it no matter what. 

Dinner itself is relatively easy to get through. He tries to temper his reactions, so as not to alarm his hosts at just how much he had missed eating real food. He’s not sure how successful he is, judging by the mildly sad look Tomomi gives him.

Yuka doesn’t talk much, offering noncommittal hums when addressed directly but otherwise just focusing on her dinner. Hisoki unfortunately does not follow her lead. 

“So why are you traveling in Earth country during the worst time of year?” 

Sasuke stiffens, bite of food halfway to his mouth. “Just passing through,” he replies, response reflexive by now.

Hisoki is clearly not satisfied with his non-answer, and he opens his mouth again but Tomomi holds up a hand. 

“Leave him alone, Hisoki,” she says, calmly taking a sip of her water. “He doesn’t have to tell us anything he doesn’t want to.”

After dinner, Hisoki shows him where he’ll be sleeping, last bedroom down the hall.  

“Hopefully you’re okay with sharing,” he says, fidgeting a little at the door of the room as Sasuke peers in. “We don’t have that many rooms.”

Sasuke nods. 

“You don’t talk much, huh?”

“I don’t,” Sasuke replies, setting his bag down by the door.

Hisoki huffs a laugh. “Man, you’re going to get along great with Yuka.”

Sasuke watches Hisoki putter around the room, offering stilted commentary about this and that to the silence as he pulls a second futon from a closet. The room is traditional, like the other living spaces of the house. Tatami mats cover the floor, with the futons resting in the middle of the room. On the far end of the room is a row of glass windows looking out into the back forest of the house.

Though the room is simple, it’s littered with signs of life. On the windowsill there are a variety of little trinkets; a little carved horse, a framed picture of Hisoki and Yuka as kids laughing on a man’s lap, a stack of papers, held down by a horseshoe, a half burnt candle. On the wall opposite the closets there are a few pieces of art, unframed. Some more pictures. A calendar covered in little notes and symbols. 

Seeing it makes him feel a little insane. A little hysterical. The quiet evidence of someone having lived a life makes his stomach turn. The intimacy of seeing it himself makes him feel like he should avert his eyes, like it’s too much for him to know. 

He realizes that the only other person’s bedroom he’s seen in his life outside of his own family is Naruto’s. He’s seen some living quarters, at Orochimaru’s, but that doesn’t count. They were lifeless, uniform. Nothing like this. 

The thought leaves a sick ache in his stomach. Not just an ache from seeing the signs of life here, but knowing that for him there’s never been anything like this to witness. He’s never had a place in his life that someone could look at and see him even if he wasn’t there. Not since he was a kid.

“Sasuke?” Hisoki says, looking up at him from where he’s crouching beside the futons.

Sasuke blinks, coming out of his thoughts. 

“I was asking if this was okay?” Hisoki looks back at the fully set up futon. “Sorry if you’re used to western beds.”

Sasuke shakes his head. “No, this is fine.”

When they go to sleep, the strange gray light from the snowy night filters in through the far windows after the lights have been turned out, and Sasuke stares at the ceiling. 

The futon is soft and the comforter is heavy and warm. It has that stale smell of linens not used often, but it’s nice. It’s better than mildew, which is the smell that has lulled Sasuke to sleep for the past few weeks. 

The world outside is completely silent, dampened by the snow, so he just listens to Hisoki breathe slowly beside him. 

He doesn’t like sleeping on his back, but if he turns towards Hisoki it’ll feel too invasive, and if he turns away he’ll be vulnerable.

He glances over at Hisoki. He clearly has no such issue, asleep facing him, mouth slightly slack, palm open and relaxed on the sheets. 

Sasuke huffs and stares back at the ceiling before closing his eyes and hoping that sleep comes to him quickly. 

Chapter Text

At the crack of dawn, Sasuke is pulled from whatever twilight consciousness he had achieved instead of sleeping by the soft hiss of the sliding door being opened and the sound of someone entering the room. 

He jerks awake, wrenching himself onto his elbow, heart pounding as he blinks himself alert, only to see Yuka standing over him, arm outstretched like she was going to shake him awake but thought better of it.

She holds his gaze for a moment, face impassive. If she’s alarmed at his reaction, she makes no show of it, only nods towards the door and walks out. Sasuke sits up, rubbing at his eyes as his heartbeat slowly returns to baseline, and reaches blindly for his eyepatch. It didn’t seem like she’d seen his rinnegan, but better to cover it up anyway. 

Judging by the dark blue sky he can see out the windows and the occasional soft chirping of birds, it’s probably sometime around four or five in the morning. Absent-mindedly, he glances over to Hisoki, still sleeping soundly in the futon next to him. Sometime in the night he’d turned over so that now only his head of soft looking brown hair is visible, buried under his comforter. He is dead asleep, apparently not one to get up early like his sister. 

Sasuke gets dressed and meets Yuka in the kitchen where she gestures towards a pot of okayu on the stove and the leftover salmon from the night before along with some steaming hot tea on the counter. 

Without question he chokes down the rice porridge and tea despite the hour, having a feeling that farm labor is not something that you can do on an empty stomach. 

As he’s eating, he glances out the window. Though it’s just at the break of dawn, he can see that the winter storm has cleared up, leaving behind a substantial layer of glittering snow over everything outside that softens the whole terrain. 

“You got warmer clothes than the ones you showed up in?” Yuka finally breaks the silence, rinsing her own bowl. 

“No, just that jacket,” he replies, standing to do the same.

Yuka hums, walking over to a closet by the entrance. “Your jacket’s fine, but you’ll need more than that.” 

After a moment of rummaging around, Yuka pulls out a hat and a single fur lined leather glove as well as some boots far more substantial than his own. 

Sasuke puts everything on without argument, tying his now-jaw-length hair half up to tuck it into the hat as Yuka suits up as well. She gives him a once over as he throws on the jacket before nodding shortly, grabbing a large toolbox by the door, and leading the way out. 

They trudge through the powdery snow out into the pasture, pausing at the red metal gate as Yuka takes out two pairs of pliers, handing one to Sasuke before they begin to walk along the perimeter of the fence. 

After a few minutes, Yuka comes to a crouch next to the fence, looking at Sasuke expectantly until he joins her. She takes her pliers, and only using one hand, she reattaches the two broken ends of the barbed wire fence, first holding one, then the other, then twisting to bind them together.

Sasuke looks at her for a second. It would have been easier for her to do it with both hands, but he realizes that she’s showing him how to do it himself. 

Sasuke nods and she gets up, continuing to walk the perimeter. 

It goes on like that for the better part of the morning; walking in silence along the perimeter of the fence, fixing what needs to be fixed. It’s not particularly interesting work, but something about it calms him. Clears his head. Maybe it’s the bitter coldness, or the ache in his hand after doing it so many times, but he finds his mind blissfully clear.

As they begin to make their way back towards the house, Sasuke pauses, looking back. Behind them is a trail of two perfectly preserved footprints against a sea of pristine white snow. 

Sasuke looks at it for a long moment. His mind offers no commentary, no downward spiral, just a feeling that he should remember it. His body is tired, his cheeks sting from the cold, he’s hungry from working since dawn, he looks at the footprints in the snow. 

“What is it?” Yuka calls to him, having paused a ways ahead and turned around when he stopped. 

Sasuke shakes his head, walking back towards her. “Nothing. Just looking.”

Yuka studies him for a moment, a complex expression on her face, but she says nothing, just turns around and keeps walking without checking to see if he follows.

After they’ve eaten and warmed up, they head out again, this time out towards a large barn.

“Where is everyone?” Sasuke asks as she pushes open the heavy door, letting him in, before dragging it shut behind him. It seems to have a few stalls for animals, but is mostly being used for storage of various farming equipment. 

“Mom’s at the market. Hisoki’s probably doing something with the animals.” Yuka tugs a tarp off a particularly large tractor and sets her toolkit next to it. “The cows were in while we fixed the pasture, but he’s probably let them back out by now.”

Sasuke nods, watching as Yuka grabs a wrench from the box before lying on the ground and disappearing under the tractor.

Yuka, unsurprisingly, doesn’t say much, just asking him to hand her tools every once in a while and patiently describing them when he doesn’t know what they are. It’s clear that she knows exactly what she’s doing, and Sasuke hadn’t even really seen a tractor until this very moment, so he keeps his mouth shut and helps where he can.

After about forty minutes, she drags herself out from underneath. 

“Can you get under here? I need you to hold something while I tighten it.”

Sasuke nods, maneuvering himself so he’s lying on his back beside her.

“Just hold it in place,” she points a gloved hand towards something that looks like a pipe. “I just have to screw this back on and we can start her up.”

The sheer force she applies to the wrench is astounding, and Sasuke can’t help but be impressed. Her strength reminds him of Sakura. 

“Did Tomomi teach you all this stuff?” He asks as she wrenches the valve shut, only barely breathing hard from the effort.

“A little. Some of it,” she puts the wrench down and does a final check of her work. “My dad taught me about the mechanics, though, before he died a couple years back.”

Sasuke’s heart sinks and he glances at her, but her face remains completely unchanged, like she had just said something about the weather. 

Sasuke swallows any condolences that find themselves at the tip of his tongue, finding it clear that they are not needed here. 

Yuka drags herself out from underneath the tractor and Sasuke follows. “I miss him,” she says, sitting haphazardly on the straw, wrench in her hands. It’s too earnest to be said like that to a stranger. Like she’s not even trying to keep it close to the chest, just laying it all out for the world to see. “But I remember everything he taught me, and I use it every day. Until I forget, he’s not really gone.”

Sasuke stills, stunned by the weight of the moment, but she brushes it off like it’s nothing, just standing, fishing the keys out of her pocket, and climbing up to start the tractor which hums to life with the first turn of the key.

Sasuke slowly pulls himself from the ground, placing the pliers back into the red, worn toolbox. He pauses, examining it closer. On the side, faded but not completely gone, is a name. He can’t quite make out what it says, the writing too rough and the scratches smoothed out with years of wear, but he can tell it’s a name. Probably their father’s name. 

He thinks about the ease with which Yuka said I miss him, and he feels envy. He envies the way people move forward. They way they continue to live on after loss.

It seems that everyone has experienced tragedy, and it hurts, sure. He can tell that it hurts. Yuka, the retired shinobi those months ago, even Naruto; he can tell that the pain doesn’t just go away after their losses, but they still seem to move forward. Like the pain doesn’t crush them under its weight, in possession of some resilience that keeps them afloat.

It feels as though Sasuke is caught in a snare. Like every attempt to escape or move away from the pain only tightens the hold of it. He looks at other people’s grief and he doesn’t understand why they can live with it. Or really, he doesn’t understand why he can’t. 

It’s like everyone in the world is walking around with open wounds, and he feels insane because he can see them, right there, like bright red blood is flowing from them right before his eyes, but no one seems to care. It’s like he’s the only one in the world who feels it. The only one in the world clutching at the wound, looking for any way to apply pressure so he doesn’t bleed to death. 

Yuka turns off the tractor and climbs down, tossing the wrench into the toolkit hard enough that the whole thing shakes. Sasuke flinches hard, feeling disoriented by the sheer speed with which she moves on. 

“Think that’s good for today,” she remarks, wiping her hands on her jacket and picking up the box. 

Sasuke nods, not trusting his voice to come out steady, and they make the trek back to the house in silence. 

___

For the first couple of weeks, each day passes the same way. 

He gets up before dawn and helps Yuka with whatever farm maintenance needs to be done during the day with hardly a sentence spoken between the two of them. They have dinner. He falls into increasingly less uneasy sleep. Rinse and repeat. 

He finds he likes Yuka’s presence; tough and quiet and earnest. She isn’t verbose, but it doesn’t bother him, often having no trouble discerning her meaning even with so few words. It’s easy; she leaves him be and he does the same for her, like they have a silent understanding between them. 

During the day, Yuka is the only one he really sees. Tomomi spends most of the days away in town, and Hisoki is typically nowhere to be seen. If Sasuke finds it a little strange that the work Yuka and Hisoki do has virtually no overlap, he doesn’t comment on it.

In the evenings, they all sit down for dinner and it’s much the same as the first night; Tomomi skillfully guides the conversation to be light and to leave Sasuke’s past alone despite Hisoki’s clear curiosity and probing questions. Yuka simply eats.

Sometime in his third week, they finish fixing the fence of the second, much larger pasture.

It’s an unseasonably warm day, and the snow has melted off into a muddy slurry that Sasuke can’t say he prefers to the frozen ground, forcing them to slog their way through it to finally get back to the gate. 

Yuka wipes off her hands on her coat after closing it behind them with a loud creak. “Can you find Hisoki and tell him he can put the cows back in their pasture?”

Sasuke nods as he finishes scraping the obscene amount of mud from his boots against the wood post. “Where is he?”

“Hard to say,” Yuka shrugs, voice stiff with something almost approaching agitation. “Check the north pasture with the trees.”

The north pasture with the trees turns out to be as far away from their current location as you could get while still technically being on the property. It takes Sasuke over twenty minutes to even make it to the gate, and once he’s in, there’s absolutely no indication as to where Hisoki may be due to the hills obstructing his view. 

Sasuke sighs, unbuttoning his heavy coat, already overheating in the comparatively warm weather, and begins to wander. 

After another twenty full minutes, he finally catches sight of the cows standing around like lazy brown and black rocks on the landscape. They glance at him as he approaches, but seem generally unperturbed, just going back to grazing on the frostbitten grass or chewing their cud.

As Sasuke gets closer, he catches sight of a brown head of hair poking out from behind the base of an old twisted conifer tree amid the cows.

Sasuke huffs, shaking his head. He’s broken out in a thin film of sweat from trekking around for the last forty five minutes, shins aching from wading through the mud, and here’s Hisoki, taking a nap under a tree. 

As he gets closer, he realizes that he isn’t taking a nap, but is rather propped against the tree with a book in his lap, one hand keeping it open, the other resting in his own hair, absentmindedly running his fingers through it. 

Sasuke stands in disbelief for a moment. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d find the whole thing amusing. It’s something he would have done as a kid, sneaking off to read by himself before he started training more seriously, just to be out of the house. He hasn’t done it in years, though. Hasn’t really had the time. And at the moment, after nearly an hour wasted, he can’t say he’s particularly appreciative of the action. 

“Hisoki,” he calls out, a little sharper than is strictly necessary. 

It has the desired effect: Hisoki nearly jumps out of his skin, book flying from his hands onto the grass beside him before he whips his head around to look at Sasuke. 

“Hey, what-” Hisoki bites out indignantly. Sasuke only smirks as he steps closer, leaning down to pick up the thrown book, shaking the dirt off.

“Give it back,” Hisoki scrambles to his feet, lunging for the book. Unfortunately, Sasuke’s faster, easily sidestepping him and holding the book out of reach. 

Hisoki makes another unsuccessful grab for the book as Sasuke turns it over to look at the cover. 

“Poetry?” It’s an old book. Nicely bound but certainly worn, like it has been flipped through many times. The pages are full of haiku after haiku. 

Hisoki, to his credit, does not try to grab the book back from Sasuke a third time, clearly knowing when he’s beat. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, running his thumb against his forefinger over and over, posture stiff. 

Sasuke looks at the cover again, illustrated with beautiful cliffs that sink into a winding river at the bottom. In the upper right corner is the name of the author.

“Basho¹,” Sasuke reads aloud. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s good,” Hisoki says, taking a step forward, voice almost a little hysterical. “Listen- please don’t tell anyone.”

Sasuke looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. He understands the embarrassment of being caught slacking off, but Hisoki’s reaction seems disproportionate. “Do you do this often?”

“Kind of,” Hisoki rubs the back of his neck as he glances away, cheeks pink. “I have a collection and when things get slow in the winter for the animals, I read them.”

As Sasuke looks around, he can see that this must be a regular occurrence. The cows seem perfectly accustomed to having him here, and in fact seem a little annoyed at having been interrupted, casting glances at the two of them. 

Sasuke looks back at him for a moment, the sinking feeling in his stomach returning. The feeling that he hasn’t earned this information about this stranger, and yet is the keeper of it anyway. He should just give the book back and pretend he never saw anything, but Sasuke’s never been good at taking the cleanest route. 

“I’ll keep your secret, ” he still holds the book out of reach. “If you let me see your collection.”

Hisoki opens his mouth like he’s going to speak but he shuts it again, face indexing through a variety of expressions, mostly confused, before he shakes his head and shrugs. “I- sure, yeah. I can do that.”

Sasuke nods, finally handing the book back. “It’s a deal, then.”

They don’t talk much on the long walk back to the finished pasture, cows slowly trailing behind Hisoki without needing to be told. 

Hisoki still seems embarrassed- the only true explanation as to why he isn’t trying to fill the space with stilted small talk- but the breeze is mild, the sun is shining, and there are worse ways to kill an hour. 

“What a strange day outside, huh?” Tomomi remarks later as they all sit around the table, eating curry and drinking tea as the wind pushes against the house, making it creak. 

“Muddy,” Yuka says, unimpressed, taking another bite.

Tomomi laughs, “Maybe spring’s coming early this year.”

Hisoki snorts, shaking his head as he picks up his cup of tea. “After a nice day, there’s always a blizzard.”

Tomomi rolls her eyes, “Sasuke, I’m sorry my terrible children are so pessimistic. I really don’t know how they got like this.”

Sasuke says nothing, huffing softly down at his food.

“What did you all do with your one single nice day, then?” She switches gears easily, taking a sip of her tea.

Sasuke’s eyes meet Hisoki’s across the table, holding his gaze for a moment. He lets him squirm, a quiet retaliation for the inconvenience of the day, before he answers.

“Just working,” Sasuke replies. Hisoki’s cheeks flush a little and he smiles down at his food, for once not having anything to add. 

Later, in the soft orange lamplight, Sasuke sits on his futon, leaning back on his wrist, watching as Hisoki stands in front of his open closet, filled to the brim with books, and speaks. 

The magnitude of his love for his books is crystal clear in the way he picks them up, describing what he loves about the stories, or the historical context of the poetry, or his memory of reading it for the first time. It’s clear in the cadence of his speech, entirely uninhibited and unrehearsed, a completely authentic expression of his passion.

Sasuke doesn’t like listening to people talk, normally. He thinks that most people talk entirely too much, taking up space and time that they really don’t deserve. But this feels like something else. It’s clear in the way he speaks that he isn’t doing it to take up undue space, or to grandstand, or to prove anything to anyone. He’s just excited. He’s happy to be talking about something he loves. That’s all. The simplicity of it feels foreign, like he’s watching someone speak a language he’s never heard before. It’s all he can do to just listen, rapt. 

As Hisoki picks up another book, beginning to page through it, speaking about reading it as a teenager, a collection of love poems, Sasuke can’t help but get a little lost in the moment. 

He watches the warm orange light make shadows of the tendons of his arms as his fingers move across the page. He watches the thin bones of his wrist and hand shifting under his smooth skin, veins resting peacefully over them; a heartbeat. He watches the muscles in his legs tense and relax as he shifts from one to the other, lost in thought as he speaks. He watches, like it’s some intricate performance of humanity, so raw and unedited before him, like Hisoki hadn’t even considered hiding himself away. 

“I was talking for a long time,” Hisoki says, pulling Sasuke from his existential thoughts. He draws his eyes back to Hisoki’s face, finding his expression a little sheepish.

Hisoki laughs shallowly, running his thumb over the spine of the book for a moment, minutely shifting his weight before he turns to slide the closet door shut again. “Sorry, I just- I get caught up in things sometimes,” he says as he shuffles over and sits down gracelessly on his futon, setting the book by the head of the bed and lowering the light of the lamp just a little, dimming the room, and lying down flat on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. 

Sasuke shrugs, trying to shake off the heaviness of his thoughts, hoping that his philosophical downward spiral isn’t visible on his face. He stretches his back a little before he follows Hisoki’s lead and lies down. “I didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Hisoki says with a soft chuckle. “I thought you didn’t like it when I talked. Your face always gets all-” he shrugs a little, “tense.”

“I don’t like your questions,” Sasuke says, pulling the heavy comforter to his shoulders. “This is different.”

Hisoki hums, sliding his forearms under his pillow and lowering his head down onto it, still turned towards Sasuke. “Asking questions is how you get to know people.”

Sasuke sighs, turning away so he’s lying on his back. “You don’t have to get to know me.”

Hisoki snorts, and Sasuke can hear him shift but he doesn’t turn to look at him. “You’re living in my room, why would I not get to know you?”

Sasuke stares up at the ceiling. There’s a million different things he could say to that, but none of them seem appropriate.

“Let me ask you something then,” Sasuke says, tilting his head to look at him.

Hisoki’s turned on his side now, cheek resting on the back of his hand. “Sure,” he replies immediately, with absolutely no guard to speak of, just a soft, open expression on his face. 

Sasuke swallows, immediately thinking better of it. 

Knowing goes both ways; he doesn’t want Hisoki to know him, too scared of the vulnerability. But as he looks at the way the lamplight seems to make his brown eyes almost glow like a jar of honey left on a windowsill, only further laying their sincerity bare, he realizes that perhaps it is just as dangerous for him to know Hisoki. Perhaps even more dangerous. The more strings connect them, the more painful it will be when they are cut. 

“Why are you so secretive about your books?” He asks, despite himself.

Something passes over Hisoki’s face; a shadow that by all accounts should wash away the softness there but somehow doesn’t manage to. 

Sasuke thinks he won’t answer. He almost hopes he won’t answer, freeing both of them from knowing. Hisoki swallows, action accentuated by the stretched shadows on his throat, and he glances away. 

“My dad didn’t like them,” he says, shifting a little, curling inwards. “He thought my time was better spent in other ways.”

Sasuke should look away, at least try to make this less intimate than it already is but instead he turns over on his side to face Hisoki, tucking his cheek against his palm. 

Hisoki looks back at him as he does it, and something loosens in his expression, some anxiety, like he thought perhaps Sasuke would turn his back to him instead. 

“I love him, you know? But we didn’t really see eye to eye,” Hisoki continues. “He just-” his eyes unfocus for a moment, “he wanted this world to be enough for me. The farm. And it wasn’t.”

Sasuke realizes he’s been holding his breath, and he slowly lets it out, trying to release the tension in his stomach. 

“Do it again,” Fugaku barked at him. “Do it right this time.”

Sasuke could feel the tears well up but he knew by now not to let them fall. 

“I’m tired,” he pleaded, voice quiet. “I want to go play with my toys.”

“Do you think that’s what Itachi does? He wastes his time playing?” Fugaku snapped. “And you wonder why you’re so far behind.”

“Sorry, that’s kind of heavy,” Hisoki laughs shallowly. Sasuke blinks. “So you asked me a question, do I get to ask you a question now?”

Sasuke snorts, trying to free himself from the cobwebs of his own memories. “You always ask me questions.”

Hisoki smiles, shifting a little further into his comforter. “Okay, can I ask you a question that you’ll actually answer, then?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, reaching around to pull his hair loose from its ponytail and making a defeated gesture for him to go ahead.

Hisoki grins and theatrically strokes his chin as he considers it. 

If it’s really invasive, Sasuke won’t answer it. He could always just lie. Hisoki can’t do anything to force him, but he still feels his stomach churn a little at the idea of being asked something about his past, or his family, or what he’s doing there. 

“Alright,” Hisoki says, tucking his hand back under his chin. “What was your favorite animal growing up?”

Sasuke’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open a little. “That’s all?”

Hisoki shrugs, “I feel like that’s a pretty important question.”

Sasuke feels the tension in his stomach loosen with the knowledge that Hisoki isn’t trying to push his boundaries. He’s still looking at him intently, like the answer to his meaningless question matters just as much to him than where Sasuke came from and what he’s doing there. 

He huffs, shaking his head and brushing his hair back as he considers it. “I’m not sure,” he says, pulling the comforter a little higher. “I had this-” he smiles a little at the memory, “I had this stuffed dinosaur that I was obsessed with. Carried it everywhere I went for a year. If you’d asked me back then that’d probably be my answer.”

The look on Hisoki’s face is so soft that Sasuke has to turn away from it, sitting up a little to turn off the lamp between their beds before settling back in. Even in the dark, he can see the slight curve of his smile as he says, “That’s a good answer.”

Sasuke lies awake for a long time after Hisoki falls asleep. 

The whole day settles strangely in his body like a medicine he’s unused to, changing the chemistry of him. He thinks of the field, of dinner, of listening to someone’s voice for so long. He thinks of the look on Hisoki’s face as he told him about his stuffed dinosaur, like he thought it was important.

Sasuke thinks about himself. He thinks about all the things that make him who he is.

He’s always thought that there’s nothing holding him together but anger and grief, like it’s the very sinews of his being. Like there’s nothing to speak of but that. 

He’s not sure he knew that there was anything to know about him that wasn’t tied to violence. 

Sasuke stares at Hisoki’s back in the dark blue night. The soft winter moonlight casts him in an eerie light, like something you’d only see in a dream, only half real. 

He looks at him and he wonders, what is left of a person when you take away their grief and pain? 

When you strip away these inescapable building blocks of the human experience, what is left to know about someone? 

In the dreamlike state of being that he drifts in, he thinks maybe it’s their childhood stuffed dinosaur. Maybe it’s their collection of books.

As he looks at Hisoki, he thinks that maybe it’s the way their hair lies against their pillow. Maybe it’s the moles at the back of their neck. Maybe it’s the rhythm of their breath as they sleep. Maybe it’s the sound of the voice as they speak about something they love. 

He feels his eyelids grow heavy, but he doesn’t want to look away just yet. He wants to hold tight to this moment of clarity; that there is something beyond suffering that lives in us, that there is perhaps something more to witness in humanity than just pain, that perhaps it is enough to lay beside someone and watch them breathe and that what is true is not our pain and our suffering, but it is everything else. 

When the morning comes, he’s sure he will have forgotten. The serene feeling of contentment will evaporate like mist burned off by the light of day. But for now, he lets himself feel it.

Chapter Text

The nice weather stays for another few weeks before the temperature begins to plummet and their good luck runs out. 

“Made sure all the fences are locked tight, and all the heaters in the water tanks should have full battery,” Yuka calls out to Tomomi and Hisoki over the icy, blustering wind as she and Sasuke finally make it back from the outer fields. 

“Thank you both,” Tomomi says as she slides the harness onto Kiku, smoothing down her fur before slipping on her heavy gloves. “We should be good to go then.”

“Never let it be said that I am too pessimistic,” Hisoki grumbles as he hauls the bags of grain onto the back of the cart, hair blown entirely asunder and tips of his ears pink from the cold. “Who was it that said there would be a winter storm? It was me. And who made fun of me for it?”

Tomomi rolls her eyes as she comes to put a placating hand on his shoulder. “Yes, yes, I hear you. I heard you the first four times you mentioned it, too.”

Hisoki crosses his arms, pouting a little. “I’m just saying-”

“I think we’re all packed,” Yuka interrupts, tossing in a bag of sand for the roads and closing up the back of the cart. 

Tomomi claps her hands together. “Excellent!” she throws her bag in the back of the cart as well. “We should be back by evening tomorrow, soon enough to beat the storm.”

“Do you guys know where you’re spending the night?” Hisoki asks, coming to stand by Sasuke.

“One of the market sponsors is letting us stay with him,” Tomomi replies. “He’s an old friend, so it should be nice and easy.”

Hisoki nods. “Yuka, will you show me where the keys to the barn are again, just in case?”

Yuka nods and they walk off, leaving Sasuke and Tomomi alone. Sasuke strokes Kiku’s nose softly, trying to work up the courage to speak before the other two come back.

“You and Hisoki take care of each other while we’re gone, okay?” Tomomi says, patting Kiku’s side. 

Sasuke nods, taking a fortifying breath before he speaks. “I have a favor to ask.” 

“Oh?” Tomomi raises an eyebrow, turning fully towards him. “And what’s that?”

Sasuke fishes around in the inner pocket of Hisoki’s tunic for a second before he takes out the rolled up letter, looking at it for a second. 

There is, of course, a risk of giving it to her; if she were to open it, Sasuke would be hard pressed to find an adequate explanation as to why the contents of the letter consists of a rough drawing of her son lying in the middle of a field and a signature of Yours, Sasuke. Although he supposes Hisoki’s face isn’t visible so perhaps that would give him plausible deniability. Besides, Tomomi doesn’t seem like the prying type.

After a moment’s hesitation, he hands it to her. “Will you send this while you’re in town?”

Tomomi’s eyebrows raise a little, but she nods. For a second, it looks like she’s going to ask him follow up questions that he certainly has no answers to, but instead she just presses her lips together and gingerly places the letter in her pack. 

“I’ll make sure it gets sent safely,” she promises. 

After they see Tomomi and Yuka off, the rest of the day is spent on farm chores; feeding the animals, cleaning stalls, oiling machinery. They decide to leave the animals out at pasture for one more night before they’ll likely be stuck in the smaller pen during the impending winter storm. 

As the sun begins to set and they walk back, Hisoki glances back at the barn. “It’s getting cold a lot faster than I expected, you think we should bring them in?”

Sasuke shrugs, glancing up at the sky. It’s cloudy, but it’s been cloudy for the past few days, and the storm isn’t due for at least another forty eight hours.

“Yeah, it’s probably fine,” Hisoki mumbles, pulling up his own hood and taking that as an answer.

Around the time when they start to think about dinner, Hisoki pops his head into their room where Sasuke’s been napping and nods towards the window at the slow snow flurries, already accumulating on the boughs of the dark evergreen trees. 

Sasuke sighs, pulling himself out of bed to suit up.

“Is that everyone?” Hisoki shouts at Sasuke, across the field.

 In the time it took them to trek all the way out here, the snow has begun falling much harder, wind blowing harshly all around them.

“Think so,” he calls back, lowering his voice a little as Hisoki comes to stand in front of him, cheeks red and eyes watering a little from the stinging wind. “I counted twenty four for the west pasture and twenty six for the east.”

Hisoki nods, bringing a hand up to shield them both from the onslaught of snow. “Sounds like everyone is accounted for. They have shelters in the smaller pastures, so they should be safe.”

Sasuke breathes out, tensing as a particularly strong gust of wind pushes against them. 

“Guess that forty eight hour prediction was no good,” Hisoki laughs a little, glancing out at the blizzard forming all around them. “We should head back before the visibility gets too low.”

Sasuke nods and they begin the trek back. It’s only about a mile and a half, but with the wind blowing against them and the snow coming in at an almost horizontal trajectory, it slows them down significantly.

By the time they reach the end of the row of smaller pens, Sasuke can barely make out Hisoki five feet in front of him. 

He’s never seen anything like this before; in Konoha, it would snow during the winter, but nothing so violent as this. Even in his travels, he’d never felt that snow could be dangerous, but as he loses sight of Hisoki again, snow getting in his eyes, he can easily see how this could kill you.

“Sasuke!” He hears Hisoki call out, and he walks towards the sound with his arm outstretched until he bumps into something. 

“You okay?” Hisoki shouts against the wind, grabbing hold of Sasuke’s forearm and pulling him closer. Sasuke blinks away the snow and nods.

“Hold on, don’t get lost,” Hisoki leans in to speak into Sasuke’s ear, just barely audible, and Sasuke nods again, stepping closer and tightening his grip on him.

Sasuke is washed in relief as soon as the house comes into view and they can finally duck inside, breaths still coming out in puffs of fog as they stand in the vestibule, ears ringing from the roar of the wind outside and faces wet with snow. 

For a second, they just look at eachother, catching their breaths. Belatedly, Sasuke realizes that he’s still standing close, clutching Hisoki’s arm. He lets go and takes a step back. 

Hisoki smiles, shaking his head. “If not for the threat of dying, I’d say that was kind of fun.” 

Sasuke rolls his eyes, wiping his face and beginning to strip off his jacket, refusing to agree even with the exhilaration still coursing through his body.

Hisoki lets Sasuke take the first shower as he starts on dinner, trading with him once he’s warm and dry. 

As he stands at the stove, heating up some leftover curry, he appreciates the beauty of the blizzard out the kitchen window, now coming down in mesmerizing sheets of white, almost entirely obscuring the trees outside. It’s almost comforting, like being caught in a surreal world, wrapped in a blanket of snow, or it would be if he wasn’t aware of the deadly nature of it. He is, at the very least, glad to be inside. 

He surfaces from his trance at the click of the rice maker and the soft sound of Hisoki walking in. 

Sasuke turns to see him toweling off his hair as he pops open the rice cooker, releasing the earthy steam into the room before fluffing the rice and nodding to himself. 

Hisoki looks at Sasuke, shooting him a small smile before leaning over to examine the curry. 

“Looks good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as he inhales. His cheeks are still flushed from the shower and he smells like the orange blossom shampoo that they all use. 

Sasuke huffs, shifting on his feet. “Should be done now.”

Dinner is a simple affair. The meal is nice and hot, as is the tea, and Sasuke finds the lingering chill of the storm has finally melted away, leaving him tired and sated, content to listen to Hisoki ramble about the poetry book he’s reading in the warmth of the house as the storm rages outside. 

Just as Hisoki reaches over to top off both of their cups with the fragrant white tea that he likes, the house goes dark. Sasuke listens as the fan in the kitchen slows to an ominous stop, chopsticks halfway raised to his mouth, before they are left with only the sound of harsh winds battering the sides of the house. 

Hisoki looks around, hand still halfway to filling Sasuke’s cup before he looks at him. “Think the power went out?”

Sasuke gives him a flat look that is instantly returned with a grin. 

“Not to worry,” Hisoki chuckles, abruptly standing. “There should be a backup generator, I’ll go switch it on,” he calls out behind him as he disappears into the vestibule, followed shortly by an alarming slam of the outer door. 

For a moment, Sasuke just sits there, looking at the vestibule. Surely he would not have wandered out into the blizzard by himself, he assures himself as the dread settles into his stomach. 

After another moment of silence, his thin patience wears out. 

“Hisoki?” he calls towards the vestibule. No answer. 

Sasuke walks to look into the room, and to his horror, Hisoki is gone along with his jacket and boots. Sasuke tightens his grip on the bannister, considering his options.

Sasuke has no idea which direction the generator is in, and if he gets lost going after him, he’s done for. At the same time, the minutes are passing and if something happens to Hisoki and Sasuke doesn’t go out to find him, Hisoki’s chances of survival are not high. 

Sasuke watches the clock in the mudroom tick, feeling like the seconds are going by at half speed, for five minutes until he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his feet into his boots and frantically shoving on his jacket before marching over to the door, ready to risk it. 

He takes a deep breath before wrenching the door open, a gust of wind immediately pushing him back before something more substantial does the same. 

Blinking his eyes, he grabs hold of the solid thing in front of him defensively, ready to push away as he stumbles back before he is interrupted. 

“What are you-” Hisoki breathes as Sasuke registers that it’s him, wiping at his eyes before abruptly twisting to shut the door firmly behind him.

It’s quiet again, Sasuke’s hand still defensively fisted in Hisoki’s jacket where he’s now leaning against the closed door. A soft smile spreads over Hisoki’s face, ticked up at one side in a way that, at the present moment, Sasuke finds extremely irritating. 

“Were you coming out to look for me?” His tone is light, with absolutely no acknowledgement of the danger he just put himself in. 

Sasuke roughly lets go of him, letting him fall back against the door.

“You’re an idiot,” Sasuke snaps, turning to pointedly shed his boots and jacket, tossing them haphazardly on the ground, too annoyed to bother hanging them up before he stalks back into the house proper.

He can hear Hisoki stumbling out of his jacket behind him as he follows. 

“Hey, the generator was right by the house, it was completely safe! Kept one hand on the building at all times and everything,” he insists, trailing behind Sasuke as he picks up their cold dinners.

Sasuke dumps the dishes in the sink before gritting his teeth and turning back to Hisoki who takes a surprised step back. He gives him a hard look before taking a slow breath and letting the panic of a moment ago subside. 

After a few seconds of silence, Hisoki gives him a sheepish smile. 

“Power’s still out.”

Sasuke looks pointedly up at the dark overhead lights before raising an eyebrow at Hisoki. “Oh?”

Hisoki gives a light chuckle, fidgeting a little. “Generator is busted, probably won’t be able to turn anything back on until the storm is over and Yuka can get to the main grid.” He looks around them for a moment. “It’s gonna get cold in here,” he adds as he takes a towel from one of the shelves and tucks it at the base of the door. “We’ll have to insulate the main room to stay warm through the night.”

Sasuke stands in the kitchen watching him putter around, a different dread settling over him as the anxiety gives way to the disconcerting realization that the feeling is familiar. The unmistakable sensation of that metal hook that tugs at his viscera now matter how he tries to resect it from himself. The horrific feeling of clutching onto something for fear it will be taken away.

“Sasuke?” Hisoki calls him from the other room and he pushes the thoughts away, joining him to prepare the house. 

It doesn’t take too long to light candles around the living room and stuff towels and blankets under the doors and window sills in an attempt to keep the warm air in, closing most of the doors to the main room to isolate it further. Sasuke works on starting a fire in the irori , turning when he hears the sound of the sliding door to the hallway opening, Hisoki coming out with both futons dragged behind him. 

Sasuke gives him a look but he just shrugs, tossing the beds down by the sunken hearth. “We’ll probably have to sleep in here anyway. Might as well be comfortable.”

Sasuke turns back to the fire as Hisoki disappears again, rearranging the tinder a little as the flames start to grow into something steady. 

“Oh, hey!” Hisoki calls to him and he turns back around to see Hisoki standing by the closet with an armful of blankets and, more surprisingly, bottles of what looks to be rice wine. “Didn’t know we had such a stash,” he laughs as he dumps the blankets onto the futons, examining the wine a little closer. He looks at Sasuke with a grin, holding up one of the brown ceramic bottles, “Wanna get drunk to pass the time?”

Sasuke studies him for a second. He’s only been drunk a few times in his life, and they have mostly been negative experiences, always finding him at moments where the last thing he needed was a lowering of inhibitions. But tonight, he finds the suggestion intriguing. 

Wordlessly, he reaches for one of the bottles. 

The night goes on, time gets slower, and the house gets colder. 

It could be worse, Sasuke thinks, still sitting on his futon with a blanket around his shoulders, mirroring Hisoki as they both face the fire illuminating their faces while Hisoki reads from one of his old books. 

Sasuke can’t really follow the plotlines, mind too fuzzy and unfocused, but his voice is pleasant nonetheless.

As Sasuke watches Hisoki, he notices that he’s starting to be able to see his breath as he speaks and his own knuckles are beginning to ache from the cold. Unthinking, he stands to get some more blankets from the closet only to be met with a disorienting spinning sensation.

He takes a steadying step to the side, coming to grips with the fact that his alcohol tolerance is not all he thought it was. 

“Wine’s kinda strong,” Hisoki chuckles, looking up from the page. His eyes are soft as well, probably from the buzz, and his cheeks are flushed, so Sasuke knows at least he’s not alone in his drunkenness. “You okay?”

Sasuke nods and waves him off, walking only a little unsteadily to the closet to get another couple of blankets. 

Without thinking too hard about it, he dumps both the blankets on Hisoki’s futon before walking around to sit down beside him. 

Hisoki pauses in his reading long enough that Sasuke turns to him, slow to prevent his head from spinning more, only to find Hisoki looking back at him, a bewildered expression on his face. 

“What?” Sasuke’s eyes feel heavy, but pleasantly so. It’s easier to meet Hisoki’s gaze like this. 

“What are you doing?” He murmurs, eyes slowly roving over Sasuke’s face, like he feels the very same heaviness. 

“It’ll be warmer this way,” he nods at the miniscule space between them under the shared blankets.

Hisoki looks at him for a moment, firelight flicking over his features, making him look almost surreal, like more of a painting than a man. He smiles, just the soft twitch of his lips, making him organic once again as he exhales, reaching back for the blanket and pulling it around their shoulders, pressing them closer together.

Sasuke looks back at the fire as Hisoki starts reading again. He was right, it’s much warmer like this. He can feel the heat of Hisoki’s body everywhere they touch and he really can’t help but melt into it further, letting their shoulders and thighs press together under the blankets. 

Sasuke reaches for the bottle, taking another sip before he passes it to Hisoki who does the same. He can feel the muscles in Hisoki’s upper arm shift as he lifts the bottle to his lips, and something about that feels more intimate than anything else. A physical sensation that brings Sasuke into the moment, a stark reminder that he is not experiencing it alone. 

Sasuke’s starting to get tired, or maybe it’s the alcohol. He’s not sure he’s ever been this drunk before in his life, every single movement making the room spin, his thoughts coming to him slow like they have to travel through honey, but it’s not unpleasant. Not like the other times where it had devolved into a dark place so fast that he didn’t know how to pull back. He’s warm, he feels soft and undefined, he’s sleepy. His head drops onto Hisoki’s shoulder. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” Hisoki’s speech is a little slurred, he thinks, but that may just be him. 

Sasuke shakes his head no, cheek rubbing against the fabric of Hisoki’s shirt.

“Do you want to…” Hisoki trails off, and Sasuke watches his fingers play with the edges of the page. “You can lie down if you want.”

That sounds nice, but he doesn’t want to move away from the warmth of Hisoki’s body. Sasuke nods, stilling a little to stop the spinning before he peels himself from his shoulder. He regards Hisoki for a moment before solidifying his resolve and maneuvering himself down until his head rests in Hisoki’s lap. 

For a moment, Hisoki doesn’t move or speak, but it doesn’t last long. Sasuke can feel the muscles of his thigh untense under his cheek, and Sasuke glances up at him.

“Can you read something else?” 

Hisoki laughs softly, meeting his gaze. “Like what?”

“Something shorter,” Sasuke mumbles into the blanket, turning back to look at the fire. 

Hisoki reaches over his head, picking up another book and beginning to read. Poems, this time. Haikus, probably, if it’s the book he’s been reading when they go to sleep, but Sasuke wouldn’t be able to count the syllables right now if his life depended on it. 

“Withered grass,” he begins, voice low and scratchy like the paper that holds the ink.

“When I think of my lover,

Turns golden ⁷ .”

Unconsciously, Sasuke’s hand comes to wrap around Hisoki’s leg; an anchor as he listens, allowing his eyes to unfocus, fire blurring to just a warm orange haze. 

The hiss of a page turning, the click of Hisoki’s throat when he swallows. 

“Deep inside the kimono,

I have hidden his love letter,” he goes on.

“Sun-bathing ⁷ .”

Sasuke’s eyes close, dried by the warmth of the firelight. He breathes out, sinking further into the comfort. 

“Shall we die?” The words pull him back to the surface. He opens his eyes. 

“You whispered to me

On the night of fireflies ² .”  

Sasuke hums, despite himself. An almost unconscious reaction. 

“What is it?” Hisoki says softly, lowering the book by Sasuke’s head.

Sasuke blinks the sting from his eyes, resituating his hand against his shin. 

“What’s that one about?” He mumbles into the blanket over Hisoki’s thigh. 

“Don’t know,” Hisoki says after a moment. “Resignation?”

Sasuke frowns, but doesn’t shift. “Resignation,” he repeats back. 

“It’s love poetry,” Hisoki adds, a non-sequitur. 

“What does resignation have to do with love?” 

“Hm,” Hisoki says, drawn out, “well, maybe it’s the inevitability of it.” His words melt together as he speaks, but Sasuke still understands them. “Or maybe it’s romantic to die together.”

I’ll bear the burden of your hatred and die with you. Naruto’s voice echoes in his mind, clear across the water.

If we both die, you won’t be an Uchiha, and I won’t be the nine-tails jinchuuriki. We’ll finally be free of our burdens and we can understand each other in the next life. 

“It’s not romantic to die together,” Sasuke murmurs. “It’s tragic.” 

“Maybe,” Hisoki says, picking the book back up. Sasuke listens to the hiss of the page turning, beginning to drift away into sleep. “Maybe that’s where the resignation comes from, then. You resign yourself to loving someone enough that you will die with them. You resign yourself to knowing that love is worth your life.

He drifts back to consciousness an indeterminate amount of time later as he feels a pressure on his head. The pressure slowly solidifies into something recognizable, a soft stroking motion of a hand in his hair. He does not bother opening his eyes. 

Distantly, Sasuke feels like he should move away, but Hisoki’s fingers are so gentle. They run through his hair without pulling even a little. He moves so slow, almost reverent, and Sasuke can feel it all over his body like a sense of rightness, like this is the way he was always meant to be touched. 

Sasuke burrows in further to Hisoki’s lap, wrapping his arm tighter around his crossed leg just to feel the contact. Somewhere far away in his mind there are alarm bells calling, don’t go that way! It’s not safe! But drunk like this, they’re far enough away that he can ignore them. He can just let himself feel good, drifting off to unconsciousness.

When he opens his eyes, the fire is burnt to nothing but softly glowing embers. His head isn’t on Hisoki’s lap anymore and he blinks a little to see Hisoki crouched beside the fire, throwing some more kindling on it, before he glances at Sasuke.

“It’s pretty late,” his voice is quiet. “We should sleep.”

Sasuke pulls the comforter a little higher and watches Hisoki stand before he looks awkwardly down at him. 

“Um,” he glances at the other futon, hand rubbing the back of his head. “Do you want me to-” 

Sasuke looks at him for a second, trying to process what he’s being asked before he realizes. It would be easy to say yes. Yes, sleep in the other futon, four feet away from me. Yes, let us keep what’s left of our boundaries intact. Yes, let us be cold to protect this arbitrary line drawn in the sand. But he thinks of the warmth, and the rightness, and the feeling of Hisoki’s hand in his hair and he just can’t bring himself to hold him at arm’s length.

Instead of speaking, Sasuke scoots over, making room for him on the futon. Hisoki’s eyes widen a little, and for a moment Sasuke thinks he will decline, but he simply blows out the lantern beside them and lies down. 

The futon isn’t big, and even with the overly respectful space that Hisoki is clearly trying to give Sasuke, they’re still only a few inches apart, lying face to face.         

They’re close enough that Sasuke can feel Hisoki’s breath, warm in the space between them. He should roll over, turn his back on him and leave it at that. But he can’t stop thinking of the sense memory of Hisoki’s warmth through his clothes, his hand in his hair. Despite being more sober than he was an hour ago, his inhibitions are still not as intact as usual, and he finds it is difficult to think of anything else.

So he doesn’t think. He doesn’t think of the risks, or the implications, or the dangers of closeness. He just reaches out his hand until it sinks into Hisoki’s hair.

It’s soft, just like how he thought it’d be. Soft and smooth. Cool under his fingers as he brushes away from his scalp.

Hisoki has a bewildered expression on his face, but he makes no motion to stop Sasuke, just watching him in turn.

Sasuke keeps his eyes on him, watching as his eyes flutter a little when he uses his nails to lightly scratch at his scalp. There’s something mesmerizing about it, Sasuke finds that he can’t look away.

“Does it feel good?” his voice comes out softer than he intends. 

Hisoki nods, lips parting ever so slightly as Sasuke does it again.

Sasuke can count the number of times he’s touched someone for any reason other than violence on two hands, and for any reason other than utility on less than that. It seems stupid, but as he looks at Hisoki, he realizes he may not have been sure that he could do this. Like perhaps his body wasn’t built to make someone feel good. To make them happy. Perhaps, irrationally, he thought that there was something about him, about his hands, that could only harm. 

He knows that couldn’t have been true, but as he watches the pleasure on Hisoki’s face as he gently runs his hand through his hair, he feels that now he has irrefutable evidence to the contrary. 

Slowly, Hisoki places his hand on Sasuke’s forearm, just holding it there for a moment. His eyes are half lidded, but he looks carefully over Sasuke’s face before his eyes flick to his hand as he begins to skim his fingers across his skin, so gently that goosebumps break out all across it. His cheek presses into Sasuke’s wrist as he watches his own hand travel up Sasuke’s forearm, across the bone of his elbow until his fingers slide beneath the sleeve of Sasuke’s shirt.

Sasuke’s fingers slide down Hisoki’s scalp until they come to rest at the nape of his neck, mind too muddled by the feeling of Hisoki touching him to keep up the rhythm of stroking his hair. 

Hisoki looks back at him, and there’s something heavy in his eyes. Something gravitational that compels him to keep looking.

Thoughtlessly, Sasuke slides his hand from the nape of Hisoki’s neck to the curve of his jaw, fingertips brushing his ear. The feeling of his warm, soft skin under his fingertips is almost more intoxicating than the wine. It leaves his mind clear, blank except for the sensation and the desire to feel more. 

They’re close now, noses almost touching, and Sasuke finds that he wants them to. He wants to feel what that feels like. He finds a selfishness rising inside of him, ugly and powerful, demanding it. He wants to feel the weight of hands on his body. He wants to feel the warmth. He wants to know the sensation of being with someone. He finds he can’t help himself. 

His eyes flutter closed as Hisoki’s hand moves to his shoulder, thumb against the groove of his collar bone. His lips part as he breathes out slowly. 

“Sasuke,” Hisoki whispers, and he can feel the shape of the syllables, warm against his lips. 

Distantly, he hears the alarms, but he lets the rush of his blood in his ears drown them out. 

It’s hard to remember sometimes, that he’s only human. It’s hard to keep track of that part of himself in the wreckage that is everything else. But as he feels the warmth of their bodies, the way their knees touch under the covers, the chill of the air against his knuckles and the searing heat of Hisoki’s skin under his fingertips, the way that Hisoki’s thumb presses into the soft dip beside his collar bones, their breath, shared in the almost negligible space between them, he feels alive. He feels human. He feels present, for the first time in a long time. 

“Can I-” Hisoki whispers again, his bottom lip brushing against Sasuke’s. 

Sasuke breathes deeply and tips forward until they meet. 

Hisoki’s lips are soft. Softer than he could have imagined on his own. They give under his, moving slowly, and it should feel strange, but it just feels natural. 

Hisoki’s hand slides into his hair as he pulls him closer. It’s overwhelming, so much sensation at once that his mind can’t find anything to anchor itself to. He doesn’t try, just letting himself be subsumed. He runs his hand down Hisoki’s throat to his chest, then back over his shoulders, pressing their chests together, heartbeat to heartbeat. 

If he lets his mind remain directionless, he can almost convince himself that this is a different life. Perhaps one where he isn’t an ex-fugitive, on the run from his past. Perhaps one where he grew up here. Perhaps one where he’s just a teenager again. He imagines a life where things are simple; where they are just two people sharing a kiss on their only night alone, unencumbered by the things that have happened to them. 

They part softly, lingering like they are both hesitant to end it. But after a moment, Sasuke feels the weight settle back over him, eyelids heavy. He lets his head rest on the pillow and Hisoki moves back to do the same. 

Just as fast as the moment had come, it goes, and they are left in the glow of it. Hisoki’s eyes are sliding closed as well, but he smiles softly, hand coming to rest on Sasuke’s wrist, a point of contact maintained. 

Sasuke lets his eyes close, and he lets the weight of it comfort him as he drifts off. 

___

As February fades to March, the sharp edges of the winter begin to soften into something less dire. The ground isn’t quite so frozen, the air doesn’t sting as much when you breathe it. It still snows, but it melts quickly. 

The time sneaks up on Sasuke, something about the cold and the short days making it feel like he only just got to the farm, until one day he wakes up next to Hisoki and he realizes he doesn’t have to ask where the tea is kept, he knows the quirks of the washing machine, he knows that Yuka likes the edges of her eggs crispy, he knows Tomomi’s best friend who lives in town’s name is Emi, he knows that Kiku’s favorite place to be scratched is the soft spot under her chin.

It’s all a little heavy to carry, he thinks as he looks out the stable window towards the premature haze of green on the trees across the field. 

“Sasuke?” 

He starts, blinking himself out of his thoughts and turning towards the voice. Hisoki’s leaning against the stall door, like he’s been standing there for a minute looking at Sasuke without his notice. He tries not to consider the implications of that. 

The sun pours in from the window, casting a rectangular patch of light across the floor of the stall, warming it, swirls of dust dancing lazily in the beam. It makes Sasuke want to lie down in the straw, breathe deeply of the earthy smell, and fall asleep. 

“You busy? I could use your help with something,” Hisoki says, voice still soft, like he’s trying to give Sasuke time to come back to earth. 

Sasuke gives a half shrug, words not coming to him just yet as he props the rake at the side of the stall and gesturing for Hisoki to lead the way. 

The hike to the neighbor’s property takes them about thirty minutes. Sasuke appreciates the fresh air, taking slow, deep breaths. It’s still cold enough that it would sting if he tried to run in it, but as they walk, it’s nice. Clear and crisp with the fresh snow from the night before that will surely be melted by the end of the day.

Hisoki talks about this and that, and Sasuke listens. He doesn’t have much to add, but he lets his words fill the space as they walk, a strong sense of contentment wrapping around him like an old sweater.

As they approach the gate, an old man waves at them and Hisoki waves back. 

“Hisoki, good to see you, kid!” He calls out. “Glad you could come, you’re a real lifesaver.”

Hisoki smiles at the man before he turns to Sasuke. “I’m glad my friend and I could make it. Hopefully we will be of service,” he says amicably with a slight bow. “My mother said something about a wild dog?”

“Yeah,” the old man sighs, glancing out towards the fields. “Some dog, or wolf- whatever it is, it’s feral- it got caught in that damned fence. Got its legs all tangled up.”

Sasuke stiffens, the relaxation he had cultivated shattered in a matter of seconds like a rock thrown through a window. 

“The thing won’t stop thrashing every time I get close to it,” the man shrugs, “thought you may have better luck. Tomomi says you’re great at that kind of thing.”

Hisoki nods, his demeanor seemingly unaffected. “I should be able to help. Do you have a large blanket and some wire cutters?”

The trek out to the remote field where the old man directed them is much more somber. 

The thoughts of what they’ll find out there churn in Sasuke’s gut. He is almost angry that Hisoki asked him to help with this, but he knows that Yuka is terrible with animals, so his options were admittedly slim.

Sasuke glances at Hisoki carrying the heavy blanket and tools. He doesn’t speak a word, jaw clenched and it makes Sasuke’s stomach turn again. 

As they make their way over the crest of the hill that had been obscuring the fence, Sasuke stops in his tracks.

There, lying on the snow, is a wolf. 

It’s large, at least half Sasuke’s weight, dark fur matted with dirt. Its back legs are tangled in the barbed wire fence, scarlet blood stark against the white snow, splattered all around it demarcating the extent to which it has struggled to break free. 

At first, it doesn’t see them, lying flat on the ground, breathing heavily, but after a moment, its ears prick up and it turns. 

Instantly, it tries to wrench itself to its feet, but bound like that, it can’t get far. It snarls at them, hackles raised as it tries to make itself menacing, putting on a desperate show that boils down to abject terror. 

It pulls against the barbed wire, and Sasuke watches, sick, as it only tightens, cuts the wolf further, fresh blood pouring onto the snow, melting it and turning it into a bloody sludge that the animal slips upon. 

“Sasuke,” Hisoki’s suddenly in front of him. Sasuke jumps at the contact of his hand against his upper arm before he forcibly calms himself, meeting Hisoki’s eyes. “You with me?”

Sasuke manages a nod. Hisoki searches his face for a moment, clearly unconvinced, before he breathes out slowly, handing the blanket to Sasuke. 

“You’ll need to hold down its front with that,” Hisoki says clinically, like he’s done this a million times. “So it can’t thrash and hurt itself or bite us. While you do that, I’ll cut it free.”

Sasuke doesn’t know why he expected a gentler approach, and even more, he doesn’t know why this approach feels so impermissible. After everything he’s done and everything he’s seen, it seems ridiculous to get hung up on something that is at least for the benefit of the animal, but something about it sickens him. 

“It isn’t thinking clearly anymore, just reacting blindly out of fear,” Hisoki turns to look at the wolf. “If we don’t do this, it’ll just thrash around like that until it bleeds itself to death.”

Sasuke follows his gaze back to the wolf, and he knows he’s right. He knows, but-

Hisoki reaches out again to touch his hand, gentler than before, not just an action to get his attention, but to offer comfort. It makes the sinking feeling intensify in Sasuke’s stomach. “You don’t have to do this,” he says firmly. “I can wait for mom to get back, or-”

Sasuke shakes his head, the futility of the situation sinking in like oil spilled on cloth. “It won’t survive that long.”

Hisoki looks at him for a long moment before giving a tight nod. “Let’s work fast, then.”

Sasuke’s heart is in his throat as he watches Hisoki circle around to the back of the wolf, drawing its attention towards himself, its enormous head tracking his movements carefully.

He’s battled countless people, fought in a war, communed with gods, and yet, here, it strikes him that those things are useless. When faced with reality, his powers don’t matter, don’t give him an edge, don’t fix things. Here, he is as vulnerable as the wolf. 

As Hisoki whistles, the wolf’s body snaps towards him and Sasuke does not hesitate, diving forward with the blanket outstretched, capturing its weight under his body.

The wolf snarls and snaps at him, thrashing beneath his thighs, trying to free itself. It’s strong, even after days of starvation, it fights hard with that adrenaline-wired movement that he would recognize anywhere. He’s felt it himself.

Sasuke pushes down on the thick wool blanket, trapping its head under his arm so it can’t get the momentum to throw him off. He’s so close that he can smell the matted fur, the metallic scent of blood mixing with oil and dirt and the putrid pants coming from the wolf’s mouth. 

“Now, Hisoki!” Sasuke calls out, and he can feel Hisoki behind him, kneeling over the wolf’s back legs. He can hear the sound of the metal snapping under the pliers.

The wolf thrashes again. Hisoki swears behind him as its legs kick out, pulling from his grasp. 

Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut, pushing down, just trying to maintain his posture on top of the animal, pinning it to the snow. He presses his knee to its shoulder, just as he would if it were a person under him.

The movement stops. The wolf doesn’t thrash, it doesn’t growl, it doesn’t snap. It lays still. 

Sasuke opens his eyes, breathing hard as he looks down at the animal. He’s not sure what he thought he’d see- understanding, exhaustion, anger- but as he peers down at the wolf’s face, what he sees is abject terror. Paralysis. A complete and utter surety that it is going to die. 

The wolf stares up at him, breaths sharp and the whites of its eyes bloodshot just like the snow it lies on, and Sasuke can’t look away. 

He recognizes the terror. He’s seen it hundreds of times. In the war, in the people he’s cut down, in his comrades, in the mirror. It’s a look that wants to be resignation. But the truth is that it’s not, because the final sealing of your fate, the click of the lock as your demise is guaranteed, will always be terrifying. In Sasuke’s experience, there is no peace in the end. 

Distantly, he thinks he hears Hisoki say something to him, but he can’t register it. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, all he can do is stare into the eyes of this animal, all he can do is-

The wolf’s eyes widen and it cries out, a sharp piercing sound, and without thinking, Sasuke lets go.

It happens in a split second. He reels back against the sound, his grip loosens, the wolf twists, throwing him from its back, it swirls around and he hears a second cry, earsplitting and human. 

Sasuke’s mind is slow as he watches the wolf wrench itself away and run into the woods, before he pulls himself up, looking over at Hisoki.

There’s blood everywhere and it takes Sasuke a moment to process that it isn’t just from the wolf. 

Hisoki lies among the barbed wire, having been toppled over in the escape, clutching at his hand. He hisses through his teeth, and Sasuke watches the steady stream of blood dripping from his glove.

He swallows, trying to catch his breath as he crawls to Hisoki, kneeling in front of him and pulling him up from the barbed wire fence.

Hisoki’s breath is unsteady, shallow as he holds his hand close to his chest. He does not respond to Sasuke’s presence.

“Put pressure on it,” Sasuke orders. Hisoki finally looks up at him, face pale and eyes wild. He does not move. Sasuke presses his lips together and grabs the arm, putting pressure on it himself. 

For a second, Hisoki cries out and tries to pull away, but Sasuke tightens his grip. “Hold still,” he bites out, and he knows the terror in his voice is transparent but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

Hisoki does hold still, breathing sharply through clenched teeth. Sasuke looks at him, catching his eyes. “You need to put pressure on this while I cut the sleeve,” he orders. 

Hisoki’s eyes droop a little bit and Sasuke swallows. If he passes out- “Hisoki,” Sasuke nudges him hard with his knee, “are you with me?” 

Hisoki blinks and slowly places a shaking hand over Sasuke’s. Sasuke exhales slowly, sliding his hand out from underneath and pressing down on top of his hand. “Press down hard. Don’t stop pressing even if it hurts.”

Not wasting any time, Sasuke takes out Yuka’s pocket knife and turns it on the sleeve, cutting through the thick jacket and shirt. He gently catches Hisoki’s uninjured wrist, pulling his hand back as he peels away the cloth. 

It looks bad, but through all the blood it’s difficult to tell what’s going on. The bleeding hasn’t stopped yet, but it isn’t as fast as it was a minute ago. He glances up at Hisoki, any color that had been left has now completely drained. 

“We need to get back to- '' before Sasuke can finish his sentence, Hisoki’s eyes flutter shut and he lists forward into him. 

“Shit,” he breathes as he catches his shoulder. Sasuke tries not to panic- he hadn’t thought he’d lost enough blood to pass out, but with all the wolf blood around them, it’s hard to get an accurate read on it. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his heart rate. He looks back across the pasture towards the farmhouse. It’s a mile back at least, and with Hisoki passed out, it’ll take even longer, but his options at this point are narrow.

Sasuke swallows, taking hold of Hisoki’s good arm and yanking it over his shoulder as he maneuvers himself so Hisoki’s chest rests on his back. He steels himself for a second and stands, quickly moving his arm under Hisoki’s thigh to keep him up, gritting his teeth as he begins the long walk back. 

It’s slow going, trudging across the soft, muddy ground with a grown man’s deadweight on his back. He has to bend forward to keep him from slipping, his arms draped over his shoulders limply, slipping with the uneven weight. 

As he finally makes it over the crest of the hill, the far gate comes into view, albeit still far away. He takes deep, measured breaths, trying to force the adrenaline in his body to dissipate so he can think straight with little luck. 

He glances down. Hisoki’s blood drips steadily from his hand, staining Sasuke’s shirt darker. He swallows hard. It’s a bad bite, but it’s unlikely that it’s bad enough for him to bleed to death from it. If he can just get them back to the farmhouse, everything will be okay. 

He tells himself this over and over, with every breath. 

“Sasuke?” comes Hisoki’s groggy voice, muffled from Sasuke’s shoulder. He feels like he could cry. “What-”

“You passed out,” Sasuke bites at him. Hisoki’s clearly too out of it to really grasp his sharpness, and Sasuke considers this a relief. 

“I’m sorry,” Hisoki murmurs, his head lolling a little until his forehead is pressed against Sasuke’s neck. “Sorry.”

“It’s-” Sasuke swallows against the tightness in his throat, “don’t say sorry,” he croaks. “It was my fault.”

Hisoki shifts a little, hissing as his awareness must return to his mangled hand. “Your fault…” he murmurs, and Sasuke can hear the frown in his voice.

“Don’t talk, we’ll be back to the house soon,” Sasuke cuts him off. 

Evidently too tired to argue, Hisoki rests his head on Sasuke’s shoulder and doesn’t speak. 

After a sharp demand for medical supplies, the old man dazedly shows them to his bathroom, directing Sasuke to the first aid kit under the sink before leaving them alone. 

Hisoki’s blood smears against the clean white paint of the door and the edge of the bathtub as Sasuke maneuvers him to be propped up against the rim of it, but he can’t find it in himself to give it a second thought, just kneeling beside him and cracking open the first aid kit, trying to ignore how his own hands shake.

There’s some bandages, ointment, and antibacterial soap. He grabs the soap, turning the faucet to lukewarm and trying again to take deep breaths. 

“I’m really okay,” Hisoki mumbles, more awake than he had been twenty minutes ago, but not fully there. 

Sasuke grits his teeth, testing the water with his own fingers. He turns to Hisoki, assessing the situation for a minute. 

“Take your shirt and jacket off.”

Hisoki’s eyes widen before he looks down at himself and slowly starts to pull at his clothes, not asking any follow up questions. He gets the injured hand free relatively easily, but he clearly can’t use it to pull off his second sleeve, getting tangled in it.

Sasuke presses his lips together, moving closer to help him raise it over his head and discarding the garments to the side. They’ll have to be thrown away anyway, stained and torn beyond even Hisoki’s repair.

“Come here, we have to wash it out,” he says, gesturing for Hisoki to shift over to the running faucet. 

Slowly, Hisoki does, until he’s right beside Sasuke. Gently, he takes hold of his hand, catching Hisoki’s eye before he runs it under the water.

Hisoki hisses, gripping at Sasuke’s shoulder with his other hand as his body contorts in pain, curling in on himself in a motion so reflexive that Sasuke knows he couldn’t stop it if he tried. 

The water runs pink as the caked blood swirls down the drain, slowly washing Hisoki’s skin clean again. Sasuke reaches for the soap and a small scrubber, pressing his lips together. 

“This is going to hurt.”  

He brings it to the skin, but Hisoki squeezes his shoulder again. “Wait! Wait- what are you going to do?”

Sasuke swallows. 

“What are you going to do?” he demanded, holding Naruto’s wrist tight in his hand. His hand wrapped all the way around and something about it made him remember that they were too young for this.

“It’ll get infected if I do nothing,” Naruto snapped, gesturing to the gash on Sasuke’s leg. “Sakura’s down, there’s no other way! Will you just shut up and let me help you?”

His voice was firm but his hands shook. 

Sasuke blinks, giving a measured exhale, clinging to any modicum of control that he may have left. “I have to scrub it until it bleeds,” he says slowly. “It’ll get infected otherwise.”

The fear in Hisoki’s eyes is hard to stomach. It makes him feel wrong, to know that this fear is because of him. Because of something he said. Ultimately, because of something he did. Or rather, something he couldn’t do. 

Hisoki nods, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Do it.”

Sasuke does. It’s an ugly affair, Hisoki digs his nails into Sasuke’s shoulder until he’s sure they will have left marks, writhing around as Sasuke scrubs, eyes unseeing, trying desperately to disconnect himself from his hand. 

Hisoki twists towards him, pressing his mouth to Sasuke’s shoulder, just to stop himself from crying out. Sasuke knows why he must do this. He knows it’s for Hisoki’s benefit. 

But it doesn’t feel like that. It just feels like harm. Like every other harm he’s done. 

Finally it’s over. Hisoki breathes harshly against his shoulder, slowly unclenching his hand as he recovers from the pain of it. Sasuke turns off the water and for a long moment the only sound is his breath and the drip of the faucet. 

Slowly, Hisoki leans back, propping himself against the edge of the tub. He’s still breathing hard, and Sasuke can see a sheen of sweat across his chest and he hates the way it looks, his sharp breaths echoing loud off the edges of the room, unavoidable. 

Hisoki looks at Sasuke and gives him a weak smile. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

Sasuke closes his eyes, unable to look directly at the earnestness of it. He takes a steadying breath and does not speak, instead reaching into the first aid kit for the antibiotic ointment and gauze. 

Gently, he applies the ointment and begins to wrap Hisoki’s hand in the gauze. His skin is red and angry, but it’s warm. Familiar in Sasuke’s hand. The feeling of his skin under his fingertips twists his stomach with the realization that he’s lost his hold on the reins, noticing too late that the edge of the cliff is imminent. 

___

He hardly speaks a word to Hisoki for the rest of the day, and he can tell that he’s noticed, casting ambivalent glances towards him but not broaching the subject. 

Hisoki stumbles through an explanation to Tomomi, full of half-truths, shrugging it off when she asks to take a look, insisting that it’s no more than a scratch. He sits across from Sasuke at the dinner table, laughing and speaking as if nothing had happened despite the pallor in his face that lingers from the blood loss. Sasuke keeps his eyes on his plate and stays silent. 

That night, things are quiet. As they get ready for bed, warm, soft lamplight washes the room in a golden glow, just like every night, but he feels the tension like a third person in the room.

By the open closet, Hisoki is faced away from Sasuke as he silently struggles with removing his own shirt. He watches as he gets it mostly over his sling, only to get it caught on his shoulder and other arm, tangling in the fabric until his efforts grind to a defeated halt. 

Sasuke shouldn’t get up. He shouldn’t get involved. He should never have gotten involved with these people in the first place; it would have been better for everyone if he had just ignored Tomomi that day on the road. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t help himself. 

Sasuke stands with a measured exhale, approaching Hisoki who turns around at the sound. 

If Sasuke had it in him, he’d laugh at the scene; Hisoki bound in the shirt, hair sticking every which way as it’s caught in the twisted fabric, arms coming out at odd angles, exposing the soft skin of his belly.

Instead he just asks, “Can I help?” 

Hisoki’s eyes widen, having the gall to look surprised as if he expected Sasuke to just let him live on like this forever. After a second, he nods. 

Sasuke presses his lips together and steps closer, sliding his fingers between the fabric and Hisoki’s skin, slowly pulling it up, carefully avoiding his injured arm as he untangles him and drags the shirt over his head. He can feel goosebumps bloom in the wake of his touch, and all he feels is a pit in his stomach. 

Hisoki drops his arms carefully, and for a long moment they just look at eachother. It’s quiet in the room. Dark. Hisoki is cast in Sasuke’s shadow, only his face illuminated by the golden light that breaks past Sasuke’s shoulder. It gives the illusion of health, almost making Sasuke forget the events of the day. 

He feels the impulse to reach out and touch, but as his gaze falls to Hisoki’s chest, it gets caught on his arm. 

There’s a version where the wolf decided to go for his throat, or Sasuke didn’t stop the bleeding, where he’d be standing alone in this room. Where he would have had to tell Hisoki’s family what happened, why he wasn’t standing beside him. Where Sasuke would be left with memories and nothing else.

He doesn’t know when it happened- when his fondness for Tomomi and Yuka and especially for Hisoki sprung up like ivy after a summer rain.  But he realizes it’s too late now to stop it. By now, the tendrils of it have crept over and through him, the lush green leaves almost beautiful enough to distract from the way the vines choke him, taking up space in his body for breath and blood. 

Hisoki steps closer. His eyes are steady and soft as he looks at Sasuke, and he can tell that there is no downward spiral or anger in his mind. He can tell that he hasn’t even considered it. 

Hisoki places his palm on the side of Sasuke’s jaw, thumb brushing across it reverently. Sasuke shuts his eyes. He can’t look at Hisoki when he’s looking at him like this, not when it sinks in his stomach like a stone. 

He wants to say that it’s all because of guilt. It would be easier to say that the wrongness, the displacement he feels in his body is just guilt from almost getting Hisoki killed. And it is, to a certain extent, that. But greater, more ugly, is the truth: the dread he feels is selfish. 

The happiness, the contentment, the intimacy that he’s felt in the last months, it’s only half of it. That’s the thing. Connection is a double edged sword; for every lovely thing there exists something equivalently evil. It was foolish of him to think that he could get away unscathed. 

He feels Hisoki’s forehead touch his own. He feels the warmth of his breath. He can smell his familiar citrus blossom scent. It would be so easy to let go. To just let the cart careen off the cliff, consequences be damned. Maybe he would, if he was sure he’d be killed on impact. The real pain comes when you survive. 

He puts a hand on Hisoki’s chest, pushing back gently.

Hisoki immediately steps away and lets his hand slip from Sasuke’s jaw, always so respectful, and it almost makes it worse. For a long moment he doesn’t say anything. Sasuke opens his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He murmurs. It’s gentle. There’s no accusation, no anger, no frustration. He asks like he really just wants to know. 

Sasuke’s hand is still on his bare chest. He can feel his heartbeat under his palm and despite everything he can’t bring himself to pull it away. 

He can’t look Hisoki in the eye for another second. He lets his gaze fall to his own hand. 

“It’s nothing,” it comes out quieter than he means it to, utterly unconvincing.

Hisoki puts his hand over Sasuke’s, not holding, or pulling it away, just for contact. Just to reassure. It only makes the ache worse; he can feel the vines tightening around his throat, winding through the ventricles of his heart, bursting through the lining of his lungs. 

“You know what happened today wasn’t your fault, right?”

Sasuke swallows. 

“These things happen,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding into the spaces between Sasuke’s. “It’s-” he smiles a little, laughing weakly, “it’s an occupational hazard.”

“If I hadn’t gotten distracted, it wouldn’t have happened,” Sasuke bites back, strength coming back to his voice. 

Hisoki sighs, finally twining his fingers through Sasuke’s and pulling them from his chest to hold. “And if you hadn’t been there, either the wolf would have died or I could have been injured worse trying to do it on my own.”

Sasuke grits his teeth, wrenching his gaze from their hands to Hisoki’s face. Hisoki searches him for a moment, and as soft and open as his expression is, Sasuke can tell he doesn’t understand. He can tell that he’s trying to be supportive, but at the core of it, he just doesn’t understand why Sasuke would be reacting this way. He thinks it’s simple.

“Look,” Hisoki squeezes Sasuke’s hand gently, “there’s a risk to everything in life. Sometimes, things just go wrong. And sure, maybe things could have gone differently, but what do we do about that? Should we not have tried? Should we have just left it to die?”

Sasuke closes his eyes again.

“Don’t punish yourself for doing something good,” his voice is unbearably soft. “We can’t control everything all the time. That doesn’t mean we should stop trying. You’re just a human being, things happen.”

Things happen. 

This is what torments Sasuke. Things happen. Life is a coin spinning and spinning around and which side it ends up on is entirely up to chance. There is no protection from the random entropy that determines each person’s fate. 

He has tried desperately to hold everyone at arm's length. He had always thought that his one and only failure in this was Naruto: the one single connection that just couldn’t be broken.

But as he feels Hisoki’s grasp on his fingers, he knows he was wrong. He thinks of his brother, he thinks of Sakura, he thinks of team Taka, he thinks of Chiho the baker, he thinks of the woman who gave him the coat, he thinks of Tomomi, of Yuka, of Hisoki. 

He realizes, with sickening clarity, that he can’t help himself. He realizes that no matter what he does, connection is inevitable. If there are people around, there is no way to remove yourself from it. There is no way to excise connection entirely from your life except by complete and utter isolation. 

But how does one survive alone? 

“Sasuke?” Hisoki says into the space between them. Sasuke opens his eyes, gaze falling on their hands tangled together, the long shadows from the lamp making it difficult to tell with his blurred eyes where he ends and Hisoki begins. 

He blinks hurriedly, banishing the tears away, swallowing thickly before forcing himself to meet Hisoki’s eyes.

He knows, the second he looks at him, that he can’t stay here. He’s already stayed too long. He can already feel the ties that bind them together, the way they’re intertwined with the fabric of him, the way they will tear him apart when they are ripped out. He can’t stay.

“We should sleep,” he croaks out. 

Hisoki frowns at him, clearly seeing his distress but trying to let him keep his secrets. He nods slowly. “Alright.”

He makes no move to let go, and Sasuke stares down at their hands for the last time before slowly pulling away. 

That night, he doesn’t sleep for even a second. Even when his eyes grow heavy, he holds them open, forcing himself to experience this one last time. 

The sounds of the house creaking, the gentle citrus scent of the soap, the stale blankets, the softness of the futon; he commits it all to memory. He stares at Hisoki’s face as he sleeps soundly beside him, blue light of the moon making his skin glow silver. He watches his chest rise and fall, he watches his eyes move under his eyelids, caught in a dream, he looks at his soft lips that he’ll never have the honor of kissing again. 

He feels the weight of it, of the happiness he’s felt here, like cinder blocks tied to his ankles, pulling him to the bottom of a lake. He feels his lungs fill with water as he tries to gasp for air. He feels his fate crystalize. 

Hours before dawn, before even Yuka will be awake, he dresses. He packs up what few belongings he has. He stares at Hisoki one last time at the door. He walks out into the dark.

At the end of the long path to the house, he looks back. He takes in the house at the top of the hill and he tells himself this is for the best. He tells himself this is the only way. He tells himself that even though it will hurt, at least this way it will not kill him. The tears will bleed and burn, but he will survive it. 

Chapter Text

The lush temperate rainforest of Waterfall Country morphs and melts into a mess of black and blue shadows in front of Sasuke’s eyes as he puts one foot in front of the other, tired eyes unable to disentangle the branches of the trees from each other anymore. 

His feet ache, shins sore from overuse, shoulders tired from long days without taking off his pack. He can feel the exhaustion slowing him down, making his movements choppy and uncoordinated, after nearly a week of constant travel. 

Only now, as his eyelids begin to sting with the dryness that comes with overwhelming fatigue, does he consider slowing. Only now that he’s safely across the border of Earth Country, can he let his feet rest. 

It’s late. Too late to make a real camp, not that he’s been doing that lately, but even if he wanted to now, it’s too dark to try to set up a tent.

Luckily, this is Waterfall Country, which means that if he follows the cliffside long enough, he’ll come across a cave. 

The darkness of the forest this late at night distorts reality. He blinks again and again as he picks his way through the rough pathway alongside the cliff. The moss growing on the face of the cliff looks strange without light and color, like he’s walking beside some kind of fur covered beast that could awaken and attack him at any time. The lichen sways like fresh kills, hanging bloody from the trees as it waits for them to cure. 

Sasuke shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and taking a steadying breath.

He reaches out a hand to the side of the cliff, brushing against damp craggy stone and spongy moss, just to orient himself in the tangled forest or perhaps to assure himself that it isn’t breathing. The feeling of it is cold and harsh, but it is preferable to losing his way. 

Just as he’s beginning to lose hope, exhaustion forcing him to seriously consider laying down where he is and hoping it doesn’t rain until the morning, his palm sinks through moss and he plunges to the side, careening through ruffage and sprawling out on a damp dirt floor. 

Sasuke pushes himself up from the hard ground, pulling lingering moss off himself and brushing the dirt harshly from his now-skinned palm before he looks around. 

It appears that he has fallen into a cave, obscured until a moment ago by the hanging moss that lives all over the forest. 

He glances to the back of the cavern. It’s small, far wall less than five feet away from him and the ceiling only just barely tall enough for him to stand up. The cave is dark enough that he can’t make out much, but he doesn’t need to. It’ll keep him out of the rain while he shuts his eyes for a few hours, and beyond that he doesn’t need much else. 

After Sasuke scrapes together a pathetic little fire, he rolls out his stiff, mildewy cot. He doesn’t bother to change his clothes, not worth the effort for such a short stay, but he does fish out something to eat. 

Sasuke stares blankly at the fire as he mechanically tries to eat some of the stale rice crackers, not bothering to go through the effort of making a real meal. He’s not hungry anyway, it would be a waste. The crackers are tasteless but he finishes as many as he can, knowing he’ll need the calories if he wants to keep traveling at this pace in the morning. 

Now that he’s still, the ache begins to set in. Not just a soreness of his body; his joints, his muscles, his throbbing head, but something worse. A sickness in the pit of his stomach, a discomfort so agonizing that he’s spent the last seven days desperately trying to outrun it. 

It is abundantly clear now that he has not been successful. 

Sasuke forces the crackers down with stale water and, with idle hands, he reaches for the smooth box of the calligraphy set. 

He takes the time to put everything in its place, to grind the ink, to flatten the piece of paper with the two white porcelain weights. He dips the tip of a brush evenly in the smooth ink and he stares at the blank page. 

He thinks over the past week and he can’t conjure a single thing worth putting down on the page. Not a single thing worth showing to Naruto, just a blur of frantic movement with no direction but away . 

He looks around him and he sees blank walls of damp stone. He sees the meager fire in front of him. He sees the pale suggestion of moonlight, filtering through the hanging moss. Truly there is nothing.

Without thinking, Sasuke begins to draw. He draws a wide, wet nose. Furry ears, horns springing out beside them. He draws his own hand, sunken into long hair. 

He looks at the drawing of Kiku for a long time. Long enough that the light of the fire begins to dim. Long enough that he can hardly make out her big, soft eyes. 

He tears his gaze away, hastily signing his name and rolling up the drawing so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore, stuffing it in his pack.

Sasuke lets the fire die, lying down on his cot, facing towards the mouth of the cave and staring out through the moss. From this angle, the moon is just barely visible, pale light filtering and casting itself across his eyes as if it’s looking back at him.

He blinks, and he swears it flashes red before he blinks again and it’s gone. He thinks of the tomoe moon, bleeding over the world. He presses his fingers to his eyes and curls in on himself. 

The moon was full enough that it cast shadows from the richness of the pale light. He lay in his mother’s lap and looked up at the huge moon, hanging in the sky bigger than he’d ever seen. It felt surreal, like some sort of dream where day and night were one and the same.  

“Mama, will you tell me a story?” 

Mikoto held him tightly in her arms and he could feel the vibration of her chest as she chucked. 

“If I do, will you be able to go back to sleep in your own bed?”

Sasuke squirmed a little, distant echoes of a nightmare creeping along the edges of his mind, nondescript but no less terrifying for it. 

“Maybe,” he hedged. 

Mikoto huffed, tickling his ear as she hugged him a little tighter. 

“Let me see,” she mused theatrically. “What stories do I know?”

“Do you know any about the moon?” 

“The moon?” Mikoto leaned back to follow his gaze towards it. “Yes, but you might not like it.”

Sasuke grasped at her hand. “Tell me anyway!” 

Mikoto laughed again. “Alright, alright,” she settled back a little further on the porch, the summer breeze making her skirt flutter. “Well, it’s a love story ³ .”

Sasuke made a face, and even though she couldn’t have seen it, she snorted. 

“You wanted a story about the moon!” She admonished. “It’s a love story, but I’m afraid it doesn’t have a happy ending.”

Sasuke settled back in.

“A long time ago, there was a powerful sun goddess named Amaterasu. She was bright, beautiful, and very cunning. She ruled over her land with intelligence and fairness, and she was loved by all,” Mikoto began, like she’d told the story a million times before. “But, the one who loved her most was her husband, Tsukuyomi.”

Mikoto took a dramatic pause and Sasuke cuddled in further, warm in her arms. 

“Tsukuyomi was the god of the moon. He was principled and rigid, and many people did not like his strong opinions, but to Amaterasu, he was lovely. They were married happily for hundreds of years.”

“And then what happened?” 

“Oh? Interested, now, are we?” Mikoto teased. “I’m getting to it.”

Sasuke pouted, pretending to pick at a loose thread on her sleeve as she continued.

“Amaterasu was very powerful, and her kingdom made her very busy. One day, she was invited to a fancy dinner thrown by the goddess of food, Uke Mochi. Amaterasu, too busy to take the time, decided to send Tsukuyomi in her stead.”

“Now-” Mikoto said as if she was sharing inside information on their neighbors, “Amaterasu knew Tsukuyomi very well, so she sat him down before the day and told him to be nice. She told him that Uke Mochi was very powerful, as powerful as her, and if he angered her, there was nothing Amaterasu could do without upsetting the balance of the world. Tsukuyomi promised to be on his best behavior, and he went.”

Sasuke forgot to feign disinterest, listening intently.

“When he got there, it was chaos. Uke Mochi was spewing the food for the feast out of her body!”

Sasuke gasped. 

“Yes, Tsukuyomi felt the same way! He thought it was disgusting, and being who he was, he couldn’t stand it, despite Amaterasu’s warnings. What do you think he did?” 

“He told her to stop?” Sasuke chimed in.

Mikoto shook her head. “You are smarter than our friend Tsukuyomi, Sasuke, that’s what he should have done. But no, he was so disgusted that he killed Uke Mochi right then and there.”

Sasuke’s mouth dropped open and he turned around in Mikoto’s arms to look at her. 

“I know,” she said. “Tsukuyomi went home to Amaterasu, and he decided he would have to come clean. Word of Uke Mochi’s death would travel fast. So he told her.”

“Did she forgive him?” 

“She couldn’t,” Mikoto said softly. “Even if she wanted to, she warned him that her hands would be tied if he were to do anything, and she was right. The heavens would look down on him for what he’d done, and she had a kingdom to protect, so she had no choice but to dissolve their marriage and banish him.”

“They couldn’t be together anymore?”

Mikoto shook her head. “But that’s not the saddest part.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened. “What’s the saddest part?”

“Tsukuyomi was so heartbroken that he begged her to kill him, but she couldn’t bear it. He was forced to live on, in the same world as her forever but never with her. This is how we got night and day,” Mikoto looked up at the moon hanging in the sky and Sasuke followed her gaze. “The legend goes that Tsukuyomi spends his life chasing after Amaterasu, the moon following the sun across the sky but never meeting.”

Sasuke deflated, shoulder slumping as he looked at the moon. It didn’t look sad, really. But it was all alone. 

“Do they still love eachother?” 

“Hm,” Mikoto wound her arms around him a little tighter. “The story says that Tsukyomi will love Amaterasu forever. He spends the rest of eternity chasing after her.”

“Why can’t he stop if he knows he’ll never catch her?”

Mikoto sighed. “Well, that’s easier said than done. Love is complicated. It can make us crazy,” she said, voice soft. “Love can be like an upended paper lantern that grows into a forest fire.”

Sasuke was quiet for a moment, considering. “That’s scary,” he settled on. 

“Yes,” Mikoto replied, eyes distant as she stared up at the moon, “it is.”

It’s not the same moon as he looks up at it now. How could it be, after everything? But he looks up at it and he thinks of the crescent on his palm, before he lost his arm. He thinks of the sun on Naruto’s. He thinks of Tsukuyomi. 

He thinks of the way it consumed him, this love. He thinks of the way he begged for death rather than live in a world without Amaterasu. He thinks that even though he didn’t die, there was no life for him after that. A life that is fraught with obsession, a love distorted so far beyond reason that it begins to wear him down to the quick. He thinks about his own people, and he wonders if they were cursed with the same thing. 

To say that it isn’t love feels untrue. It is love. It is an incarnation of love, or a kind of love, or maybe, this is just what love is. Maybe love is a rabid, desperate thing. Maybe love is only kind for a short time. Maybe there is an event horizon of love after which it distorts into something frenzied and ugly. 

He thinks, as he looks at the moon through the mouth of the cave, that maybe love is madness. 

___

April finds Sasuke in the Land of Iron, gritting his teeth as he weaves his way through the crowd in one of the many mining towns that are scattered across the territory. 

Unlike Waterfall Country, the Land of Iron is densely populated due to its industrialization. Even before he’d been forced to venture into the town itself, running dangerously low on food and having a letter to Naruto burning a hole in his pocket, it had been difficult to avoid people for more than a few days at a time, despite his very best efforts. 

As he pushes his way through the crowd, his head spins; the smell of frying food, of the burning oil of masonry, of other people, disorienting him after over a month completely on his own. He keeps his head down, just trying to get out of the middle of it all and find a place where he can breathe again. 

Someone jostles him from behind and he nearly whips around to pull Kusanagi on them, but he stops himself, not wanting to cause a scene and get himself into more trouble. He tries to breathe as he elbows his way through, not caring what direction he’s going as long as it’s out. 

He breaks out of the crowd at the edge of the long row of shops. His head spins and the world tilts a little as he realizes perhaps it’s not just the crowd, but exhaustion and hunger as well, a side effect of not having eaten much in the past few days, trying desperately to prolong the time before he’d have to go into a village.

Unsteadily, Sasuke walks to the grassy area by the river, leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree before sliding down to rest against its gnarled roots. 

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself as he finally has a chance to take in his surroundings. 

The villagers mill around the shops, likely excited for the mild weather after the long winter. Many of them wear working clothes, likely miners or involved in the iron trade in some capacity. He glances to the river beside him. The water is tinted a rich orange color, but it’s clear all the way down to the bottom. Healthy reeds spring up on either side of it, and he can even see some of the roots of the enormous oak tree dipping into the water, so it can’t be toxic. 

Sasuke rubs at the space between his eyes. As the panic subsides, it is replaced with a headache. 

He breathes out slowly, digging around in his pack for some of his freshly bought food. 

He holds the onigiri in his hands, but does not take a bite. He can feel pain in his stomach that tells him that he must be hungry, he can feel the unsteadiness that comes with starvation, but the thought of actually eating is unappetizing.

Steeling himself, he takes a bite anyway, breathing through his nose and forcing it down. He knows he won’t be able to make it far on an empty stomach, and eating is preferable to being stagnant. 

By the time he finishes, the late afternoon is giving way to a sinking sun and the cool chill of evening, letting him know that it’s time to go.

He pulls himself to sit upright with more effort than it should take, his head spinning and throbbing against the change in position. He closes his eyes for a moment at himself as he waits for the dizziness to subside, fisting his hand in his trousers that fit looser than they ever have, feeling for a moment like they belong to somebody else. 

He releases his hand, taking a slow breath as he opens his eyes to distract himself with his surroundings as his body rights itself. 

At one of the shops at the end of the row, two women stand, talking to the shop owner. One pregnant, the other not, both holding an absurd amount of bags in their arms. Beside them is a dog on a leash, twisting and untwisting it from the pregnant woman’s legs as she speaks to the merchant. 

The pregnant woman holds up what appears to be a rattle for an infant, smiling and showing it to the other woman. She smiles softly, taking it from her and rattling it before she places a hand on her shoulder and turns back to the merchant. 

“How much for this?” 

“Three coins,” the man beams at them, clearly delighted with their interaction. 

The pregnant woman’s face falls a little. “Ah,” she says, “we’ll think about it.”

The man nods understandingly and leaves them, disappearing to the back of the store. 

“It’s so expensive,” the pregnant woman whispers to her partner. 

“I know,” she murmurs back, leaning in to speak into her ear. “After all the clothes, I don’t think we can afford this kind of thing.”

The pregnant woman sighs as her partner’s hand slides from her shoulder to her arm, squeezing it softly as they turn back around. 

Sasuke watches her thumb trace back and forth against her partner’s arm, sliding beneath the loose sleeve of her shirt. The gesture is so small, but the intimacy of it is clear. It’s a gesture that’s been done a thousand times in a thousand ways. It’s something that isn’t for him to see so he looks away, swallowing thickly against the gaping hollowness that it lays bare inside of him. 

As he turns his attention back to his things, feeling steady enough to pack them up and ready himself to go, he hears a commotion in their direction, turning just in time to see the dog bounding away from the two women, leash having been dropped among the many things they are carrying. 

The dog runs excitedly away from them, uncaring of the women calling after it, straight towards Sasuke’s direction.

Without thinking, Sasuke lunges out, grabbing hold of the leash before the dog can run too far past him. The dog, immediately upon noticing that it has been grabbed, turns on Sasuke, bounding over to aggressively lick his face, despite his best efforts to push it off. 

“I’m so sorry!” calls out one of the women, approaching him fast. “He’s friendly! Oh, no, I’m sorry.”

Shortly after the dog is pulled away from him, the not-pregnant woman catching it by its collar, the other woman comes up to Sasuke, a horrified expression on her face as she hurriedly puts down her many bags and offers him a tentative hand up.

“Are you alright?” She asks as Sasuke takes her hand without thinking and allows her to help him up. “I’m sorry, we’ve been working on his manners, but he just gets so excited around strangers.”

Sasuke shakes his head, letting go of her hand to wipe slobber off his face. 

“He’s fine, Hiyori,” the other woman says, “you’re fine, right?”

Sasuke nods again, pulling himself to a stand. “It’s no trouble.”

Hiyori still looks worried but she reaches down to pick up the bags. The other woman springs forward, taking them from her grasp before picking up her own bags, just barely able to wrangle all of them in both arms as Hiyori tries to control the dog. 

Not knowing what else to say, Sasuke nods and turns to walk away.

“Hang on,” the other woman calls out to him as he turns his back. “Since you’re here-” he turns back around ambivalently, “our house is just a block or so that way. Will you help us carry these back so he doesn’t get away again?”

“Ayame,” Hiyori hisses. “Our dog just attacked him, don’t ask-”

“What?” Ayame retorts. “It’s just over there,” she nods back towards a row of houses. “It’s not like he’s doing anything.”

Hiyori’s eyes widen and she turns towards Sasuke. “I’m sorry about my wife. You really don’t have to…”

Sasuke should take the out he’s being given, but it’s just a block away. He can spare a minute. 

He wordlessly reaches for the leash and nods.

Ayame looks at Hiyori with an indignant look as Hiyori gives an embarrassed laugh and they begin to walk. 

As they make it to the gate through the quiet side street neighborhood, Sasuke takes in the house in the gray dusk light. It’s a larger multi-family home with a couple of stories stacked precariously on top of one another, clearly a little run down. The gate is painted in multiple colors and he can see that the path up to the house must have been done themselves. Out front, there are what appear to be wildflowers scattered all across the lawn, just ready to bloom. The whole place is littered with signs of life; chairs on the porch, plants in the windows, backlit by warm light from inside the house. It speaks to a lifetime of being well loved.

Ayame lets the dog in the fence and he immediately runs to the door, whining to be let in until she follows him and opens it. 

Hiyori turns to Sasuke, looking a little sheepish. “Look, I feel bad, are you sure you’re alright? Can I at least pay you for your help?”

Sasuke thinks of the meager number of coins in his purse. He could really use the money, but it appears that so could they. 

He shakes his head no.

“What about dinner, then? My mother is a wonderful cook,” she smiles warmly. 

Sasuke glances at the house, and he believes her. He doesn’t have much of an appetite these days, but something about home cooked food makes it sound nice, if for no reason other than it being made by another person. He thinks of how easy it would be to sit in a chair and rest, if only for an hour, but he just can’t. 

“I should be going,” he says. 

Hiyori nods. “Take care, then,” she gives him a small wave before she walks through the gate and into the house. 

Sasuke stands there for a long moment, just looking. He looks at the warm light pouring out into the night as it begins to cool. He looks at the cozy living room with a fireplace, he looks at the upstairs window cracked open, some music softly floating from it, he looks at the kitchen, where Hiyori puts down the bags beside Ayame who pulls something from behind her back. It takes him a second to realize what it is until she shakes it and Hiyori smiles; the rattle. 

He watches as Hiyori places her hand over Ayame’s and pulls her forward, kissing her gently. He turns away. 

As he walks away into the dark he feels an emptiness in him that feels like it will kill him. It feels like it’s going to pull him in and he will never be able to claw his way out no matter how he tries to. But it doesn’t kill him. He finds a place to rest for a few hours knowing perfectly well that he will wake the very next day and have to face it. 

___

He avoids civilization for another month, traveling down the eastern side of Iron Country through the planes and oak trees, passing by gaping quarries and factories every few days but managing not to engage with anyone. 

Sasuke makes his way down one of the smaller roads, trying to avoid the main arteries between villages as best he can, and so far today he’s been successful.

The feeling of hunger is so familiar in his body by now that he hardly feels it at all, but he does feel his pack digging into his shoulders, now much bonier than they’ve ever been before. 

He also feels exhaustion, although he’s not sure where it’s coming from specifically. Could be the hunger, could be the scarce amount of sleep he gets, traveling late into the night, making camp in the dark.

He won’t stop traveling until he knows he can fall asleep instantly, unwilling to risk the time laying in bed to feel the sickening sense of displacement that seems to grow and grow with every passing day like some sort of fungus inside his body. 

The problem is that even when he gets to sleep, it doesn’t last long, too jumpy to sleep through the night if there are any sounds. And if he picks a quiet place and sleeps deep enough to dream, those torment him instead. 

And then he lies awake, his mind drifts to any number of things that make the sense of displacement inside him grow further; his brother, his parents, his childhood bedroom, the farm. Naruto. 

It’s better to avoid it entirely.

Around midday, after traveling down this oak-lined dirt road for the better part of the morning, Sasuke sees a sign in the distance. As he gets closer, he makes out the hastily painted words Farm Stand accompanied by an arrow down another, smaller road. 

He considers ignoring it, but he’s almost out of food again and he’d rather not venture into a more populated area to restock. Besides, he’s almost out of money, and perhaps the prices here will be better than in a city proper. 

Resigned, Sasuke takes the turn. 

At the end of the road, which appears to be more of a pathway to a home than anything else, an old man is arguing with a kid around Sasuke’s age, maybe a little younger. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but as he approaches, the young man storms off and the stand owner throws his hands up, yelling after him uselessly before shaking his head. 

Sasuke clears his throat and the man turns to him, resituating a pleasant smile on his face over the clear exasperation.

“What can I do for you, kid?” 

“What can you give me for two coins?” The stand appears to be selling all kinds of things; fruits and vegetables, cured meat, eggs, even a few baked goods. 

“Hm,” the man says, surveying his own stand. “Not much, unfortunately. That’ll get you a couple of apples or a head of lettuce.” The man looks over him for a moment. “But you look like you’ll be needing more than that, huh?”

Sasuke says nothing, only giving him a curt nod.

The old man sighs, putting his hands on his hips and glancing in the direction that the kid had stormed off in. “You look like the traveling type. How are you with animals?”

Sasuke frowns, unsure of where this is going. “Fine, I suppose,” he answers hesitantly.

The man hums. “Well I’ll tell you what, my damn shepherd just quit. I got this whole flock of sheep that’s due at my wife’s in Hot Water Country by the weekend. What do you say that you take them there, and in return, I’ll give you plenty of supplies for the journey and a little more for after?”

Sasuke presses his lips together. He’s out of food. He’s out of money. At least this favor will still allow him to be mostly solitary. 

“I can do that,” he agrees. Beggars can’t be choosers.

The old man is generous with his goods, giving Sasuke as much as he can reasonably carry before he shows him the flock and explains the route that is easiest to take across Land of Rice. 

“I think you should be good to go then, kid,” the old man says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you again for doing this. My wife would kill me if they were late.”

Sasuke nods and hitches his pack a little higher on his shoulder. 

“Oh, one last thing,” the man starts. “One of the ewes is pregnant. Should be due next week, so it’s likely you won’t need to worry about it, but just thought you should know, you know how sheep are.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows raise. “And what do I do if she gives birth on the road?” Sasuke asks, a little sharp. 

“She probably won’t,” the man assures him again, “but if she does, all you have to do is clear the lamb’s nostrils so it can breathe, and make sure it starts to nurse by placing it by her teat.”

Sasuke takes a measured breath. He’s not sure he would have accepted this task had he known this complication, but the man seems to believe it will not be an issue, and he really does need the food. 

“Noted,” he nods, making no effort to hide his irritation. 

“Great,” the man says happily. “Best of luck to you, then!”

The rest of the day and the first night goes smoothly, sheep docile and happy to just follow him where he goes with no complaint as they make their way through the increasingly hilly terrain of Rice Country, passing by the unusual upland rice terraces that line the sides of the hills like stairsteps. The sheep even wander over to him when they stop for food or water, regarding him curiously and soliciting pets. 

Their noses are soft and more deft than he expects, riffling through his pack if he turns his back for too long. 

At night when dark settles, he finds a place to make camp, actually cooking himself something to eat for the first time in a long time before crawling into his tent and calling it a day.

He lays awake, staring at the top of his tent and listening to them shuffle around outside. He thinks about Kiku. He thinks about the wolf. He thinks about the resistance offered by the flesh of a person as he drives his blade through them. He squeezes his eyes shut and rolls over, pressing his fingers into his eyes until it starts to hurt. 

Sasuke leaned against the cold, rusted iron railing, forcing it to creak under his weight. It’s old and uncared for, just like everything else in the dingy ANBU headquarters, exiled to the top of Hokage Mountain overlooking the village below. 

If he pushed on it hard enough, it would likely bend and crumble; a thin and ineffective barrier on the rooftop, more for show than anything else. Unable to keep you from plunging to your death down the cliffside if that was really your desire. 

Sasuke pulled his hood over his ears, trying to keep the cold sleet from making them ache. It was a bad time of year to be on the roof, but at least that meant he’d be alone. 

As if beckoned by his thought, determined to prove him wrong, the door to the stairwell creaked open and shut behind him, followed by heavy, even footsteps that he didn't bother turning towards. 

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Masato sidled up next to him, leaning on the creaky railing himself. Sasuke watched old red paint flake off and fall away down the sharp cliffside. 

Sasuke didn’t reply. Didn’t look at him. Just gazed blankly out at the gray haze of rain over the streets below. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Masato shuffled around in the pocket of his flak jacket for a moment before tapping his pack of cigarettes on the railing and lighting one. 

The smell of tobacco stung his nose, a thick cloud of bitter smoke wafting over him as Masato exhaled slowly, but he didn't bother moving out of it. 

Masato tilted the pack towards Sasuke, just barely within his field of view. “Want a smoke?” 

Sasuke shook his head and Masato chuckled a little, shoving the pack into his pocket and flicking the ash from his own cigarette. “Smart kid,” he took another pull, holding it a little longer this time. 

They stood in silence for a while, just looking over the ledge. Long enough that Sasuke swore he could feel the tar gathering in his lungs just from standing beside Masato, and yet unwilling to return to his desk inside even a minute before he was required to. 

“Have you thought about my offer?” Masato finally broke the silence, taking another pull. “Your probation is almost up, you know. You’ve done well, now it’s time to decide what’s next.”

Sasuke clenched his teeth and did not answer. 

“I’ll take that as a no then, I guess,” Masato replied with a sigh, leaning forward on the railing again.

Sasuke refused to meet his eyes, allowing them to unfocus, reducing the village below to little more than gray shapes like the ash after a fire has long burnt out. 

“You’ve done good work here, Uchiha,” the railing creaks under his weight as he shifts. “Could be even better if we got you back in the field.”

Sasuke shakes his head, chuckling derisively. “I’m not a career shinobi, I’m a prisoner,” he finally meets Masato’s eyes, only aggravated further by the unperturbed expression on his face. “I have no interest in playing soldiers with you.”

Masato holds his gaze, that infuriatingly unreadable calm in his eyes like always. For a long moment, Sasuke thinks he’s going to argue with him like he has been, relentlessly persistent, but he only presses his lips together and gives a terse nod. 

“It’s a shame,”Masato gives a heavy sigh. “With your lineage, such a long line of accomplished fighters, I can’t help but believe you’re being wasted as a secretary.”

Sasuke’s fingers tighten around the railing, cold and stinging in the sleet. He can feel Masato’s eyes flick down to the movement, clocking the chink in his armor with deadly precision. His cigarette burns cherry red with a hiss as he takes a final pull and snuffs it out before he catches Sasuke’s gaze one last time. Sasuke thinks he’s going to argue with him like he has been, relentlessly persistent, but he only presses his lips together and gives a terse nod. 

“Very well,” he gives a flat smile, “I won’t try to change your mind about it.”

Sasuke breathes out slowly, unwilling to allow his relief to be clocked. The expression on Masato’s face makes him think he is unsuccessful, and Sasuke watches as he pushes off the railing, patting it before taking his leave without fanfare. Sasuke slumps over the railing again, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to wash himself of the interaction, wishing he could get the stench of tobacco out of his clothes. 

“It’s too bad, though,” Masato calls back from behind him, almost back to the door. Sasuke does not turn towards his voice.“The Hokage has always had a shadow to help bear the burden. I can’t help thinking, with Naruto next in line…” he trails off, pulling the door open with an echoing creak. “Well. It seems that perhaps there would finally be a place for you at his side.”

Sasuke jerks upright, breath sharp as the memory dissolves from his mind leaving him in the stifling dark of his tent.

Without another thought, he wraps his coat around himself and stumbles out into the night air. It’s still cool, even in May. The air is a shock as he pulls in deep breaths, but as he looks up at the endless expanse of clear sky and stars, the world begins to slow again.

He sits down on the grass and looks out across the hills. They appear soft and dark in the night, the crescent moon shining what little light it has gently on them. The sheep dot the field around him like clouds in the night sky. 

Sasuke’s eyes burn with exhaustion and the heaviness that has become a part of him by now feels more pronounced than ever. He wants, more than anything, to close his eyes and be wrapped up in comfortable oblivion. Just a few hours of relief.

It seems that perhaps there would finally be a place for you at his side.

Sasuke presses his fingers into his eyes, trying desperately to banish Masato’s voice from his mind, but it ricochets against all the jagged pieces, impossible to catch and remove. The false kindness of the offer hangs before him like he is a starving animal, desperate for any scraps of sustenance. He opens his eyes again. 

A stronger man could say that he never considered it, that the bait of belonging was not enough to tempt him, but he is not that man. 

His desperation lives inside of him like a parasite. Like something apart from himself, something he cannot control or tame. Something that starves him, unsatiated by everything but by the one thing it truly desires. 

It doesn’t seem to matter how unattainable it is- this desperate desire to have and to belong. It’s like trying to consume shards of glass, free from delusion and with full knowledge of the way it will cut him up, and yet unable to quell the impulse. 

Despite it all, he wants it so badly that it redefines the limits of what he thought wanting could feel like. But the truth is that even if he got what he thought he wanted- a place to call his own, a village that sees him as human, a life where he could wake up beside someone everyday, work with his hands, and go to sleep, it wouldn’t satisfy him. 

Even if he got what he wanted, all that Sasuke would be able to think about is how badly it would hurt when those things were inevitably lost.

Chapter Text

The next day of walking is much like the first, skirting along the coast of Rice Country, close enough to smell the salt in the air but not close enough to see the sea. By the time he makes camp, there’s only about half a day left until they reach their destination, but the old man told him that the sheep won't travel in the dark, so he has no option but to stop for the night. 

They settle at the foot of an upland rice paddy, with nothing but fields around them for miles in every direction. The sheep spread out to graze while Sasuke takes out his calligraphy set to draw them for Naruto. 

He stalls as much as he can, but eventually his eyes grow so heavy that he can’t stay upright any longer and he crawls into his tent, tired enough that sleep comes to him easily.

Not long after he’s fallen asleep, he is jerked awake. At first he sits, half out of bed, half awake, listening to the awful sound coming from outside the tent. It almost sounds human, a high pitched cry, but he knows there’s no one around for miles. 

Sasuke hurriedly puts on his coat and ties his hair back, stepping out into the night and glancing around. There are no people, but as he looks to the side of his tent he sees one of the sheep lying on the ground and his heart drops.

He runs over, ready to see it dead; attacked by some animal and bleeding out, but as he pushes past the other sheep, he slows to a stop.

The animal isn’t dead, it’s in labor. Before him, the ewe that he had been assured wasn’t due for another week at least is braying wildly and in the middle of giving birth. 

Sasuke stands, completely frozen, as he looks at the scene before him. He doesn’t know what to do- his instinct is to get someone who may know better, but there’s no one for miles in any direction. 

He swallows and takes a deep breath. The old man had said that all he could do was wait it out. He said it would be fine. It will be fine. Animals do this all the time, it will be fine. 

Unable to fully relax, Sasuke paces as the process goes on. An hour passes, and the baby still hasn’t been born. An hour and a half. 

He has no idea how long labor takes for sheep, but it doesn’t seem to be going smoothly. The ewe seems to be in distress and the other sheep seem significantly unsettled. Sasuke considers getting involved, but he doesn’t even know what he would do. He would probably only make it worse. 

So he sits and waits until the animal has gone through the agony of bringing a life into the world.

Sasuke swallows, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths as he takes hold of the lamb. It’s slippery and covered in blood and placenta, getting a grip on it made even more difficult by his hands shaking, but he quickly places it against his knee and clears its nostrils with a piece of grass. 

He watches, expectantly, for it to breathe, but it doesn’t. Sasuke tries again. And again. Panic begins to settle over him and he lays the lamb on the ground for a better angle and tries once more. Finally, its tiny abdomen rises sharply and it takes its first breath. 

Sasuke exhales, sitting back as he lets the adrenaline seep from him, relief replacing it. He watches the tiny white creature breathing unevenly on the grass and he frowns. 

There’s something off about it; the breaths coming too sharply, too labored. The coloring of its eyes, sickly and dull. Sasuke sits up, picking it up and checking its nose again. It’s clear, but he stills as he holds it; the baby doesn’t move at all. It’s breathing, but he can feel the rattle from its lungs with every strained inhale. Its eyes are glassy and unseeing. 

As Sasuke holds it in his arms, he realizes it's not warm like it should be, and it begins to settle over him like a shroud that the baby is not going to survive. 

Frantically, he checks its nose again. He opens its mouth, hoping to see some blockage that he can just remove, something that he can do to save it, anything. He tries to get a response out of the lamb, any evidence of life besides the death rattle coming from its chest, but there’s nothing.

The ewe brays, trying to stand to see her baby. Sasuke closes his eyes, throat tight with the crushing realization that there’s nothing he can do. 

Gently, he places the lamb beside the ewe, right where she can reach it. 

He watches, stricken, as she examines her baby. She sniffs at its face, lingering at its nose, almost like she can tell something is wrong, before she begins to methodically lick the lamb clean. 

Sasuke sinks onto his knees, numb, as she takes her time. He watches their first moments in the grass, under the stars, in the cool May air, as the mother cares for her baby. He watches as the breaths become more and more labored. He watches as they stop. He watches as the ewe continues to clean her baby long after it has passed, until it is stark white against the dark grass. 

Sasuke’s eyes blur as tears begin to spill down his face. He can’t breathe, he tries to take deep breaths but they won’t come, lungs constricted in his body. He feels sick. He’s going to throw up. He can’t breathe. He tries to inhale. He tries to blink but the tears just keep coming, dripping from his chin.

He doubles over, sinking his hand into his hair and pulling. He can’t breathe. His chest hurts so badly that he’s sure he’s going to die. He feels like he’s dying. He tries to breathe, but on every exhale the wracking sobs prevent the oxygen from coming. He can’t stop himself, he can’t control himself. He tightens his grip on his hair, he tries to breathe against the grass. All he can think of is the dead lamb in front of him. All he can think of is the minutes it survived. All he can think of is its mother, who felt the warmth of her baby just long enough to remember it, only to have it ripped from her before it even got to see daybreak. All he can think of is the way she cared for it even after it had died. 

Tears stream down his face and into the grass, he may cry out but it’s above his awareness. He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body anymore, consciousness narrowed only to the unbearable pain of being a witness. 

He clutches at his chest desperately, and he can feel the Uchiha crest under his fingers and he digs in harder. He clings, like it will offer some semblance of comfort, but for this, there is no comfort to be had. Not for him. Not for the ewe. The only one who does not suffer is the baby, who did not live long enough to suffer. 

Sasuke cries and cries until there’s nothing left.

___

He sits there on his knees until day breaks across the horizon, sun rising and spilling light over the scene, utterly impervious to the tragedy that saturates the air around him. 

Sasuke blinks slowly against the brightness, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel anything, like he’s been bled dry, only a shell of a person, staring at the lamb’s body but not really seeing it. All he can feel is his eyes, dry and heavy from the tears. 

One of the sheep noses at his hand and he blinks, the cool touch forcing him back into reality despite that being the last place he wants to be. 

The ewe still rests with her nose on the lamb, eyes shut. He looks at her and he wonders if animals mourn. Does she think her baby is alive? Is she holding it, pretending it’s still breathing, in some kind of denial of reality? Or is this mourning- standing at a grave and offering flowers even though there’s nothing to receive them but ashes?

Sasuke blinks, unseeing, and slowly takes off his jacket, crawling over to her. She opens her eyes but does not move. Her rectangular pupils should render her eyes entirely unhuman, but Sasuke knows this expression. It’s an expression of not yet. 

Sasuke can only stand it for a moment before he tears his eyes away, gently reaching under the cold, lifeless body of the lamb and pulling it from her.

She does not bray or resist. She simply watches him as he wraps the body in his jacket like a burial shroud. 

Sasuke stands, shaky on his stiff legs after so many hours knelt on the ground. In a half-aware state, he picks his way through the scratching rice plant, blindly following the path to the very top of the hill. He can almost imagine that it’s alive, like this. That he’s doing this to keep it warm. He holds it carefully, honoring it as if it were true. 

Where the grass thins out leaving nothing but dark dirt, he gently places the lamb on the ground. It almost shines in the early dawn light, bright against the backdrop of his coat, arranged almost as if it were just asleep. Carefully, he reaches out a shaking hand and closes its eyes, completing the illusion. 

There aren’t any forests thick enough for kindling anywhere around, and he has none saved, only his emergency accelerant and his fire starter. 

He takes an unsteady breath, shoving away any and all hesitation as he douses the jacket with accelerant, watching it seep into the well used fabric but careful not to get any on the lamb itself, not after the ewe had spent so long making it clean. 

He feels a nudge at the back and he turns to see her at his back. He feels the tears well up anew and spill as the ache inside him makes itself known, any comfort he may have found in delusion or numbness swiftly torn away by the harsh reality he finds in her presence. 

Sasuke puts down the fire starters, fingers aching from the tightness with which he had been holding him, before he reaches out to her, placing his palm gently on her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, throat too tight to say anything else. 

It feels inadequate, in the face of loss like this, but what more can be said? What comfort can you offer, when there was no chance from the beginning? When all the love and time poured into something is for nothing, like water collected in a poisoned well? What can be said about the four minutes they had together, under the clear night sky, before all the love was twisted into something ugly?

Sasuke feels the tears stream down his face, breaths coming out sharp. “You cleaned him well,” his voice breaks over the empty assurance. You did your best. Your love was not wasted. If it knew nothing else of the world, it knew it was cared for. 

He lights the pyre and watches it go up in flames. The jacket burns; flames consuming the little cloud shape patch Hisoki had sewn into the inside from when he had torn it on the fence. He closes his eyes, unable to bear witness, unable to do anything but cry. 

His tears are nothing like the wracking sobs from before. This time they are silent. He doesn’t even bother to wipe them away, recognizing the futility of pretending it doesn’t hurt. It is absurd to sit here and pretend that this is not a fundamental inevitability of life. 

To die is part of it. He knows that. As deaths go, this one was gentle and kind, a baby dying in its mother’s embrace. As losses go, he knows that from this the ewe will never recover. 

But that’s the terrifying thing about suffering; it is mundane. Suffering is as integral to life as breathing. There is no living without it. Suffering is completely and utterly inescapable, and yet, how do we bear it?

How do we live on, knowing that no matter what we do, we will suffer? 

No answer comes as Sasuke watches the body burn to ash until nothing remains but a tiny charred skeleton on the top of the hill.

When the flames die, Sasuke puts his hand up, as if in prayer, and he lowers his forehead to touch it. He doesn’t know any prayers, doesn’t know the proper way to send off a soul to the next life, but he hopes that this will be enough to carry it there safely. 

___

They don’t reach the farm until the sun starts to sink low in the sky, casting the world in long shadows. 

Sasuke hardly recalls the journey there; stumbling numb down the road, putting one foot in front of the other, senseless and detached. All he can feel now is distant aching in his body- a pain that doesn’t really feel like his, but still permeates even the thickest of fog to make itself known to him with every step. 

He flinches at the sound of the gate as the old woman opens it, registering distantly the sound of hooves as they flood through it. As if through six layers of wool, he hears her thank him and ask him something about how it went. 

He must respond, because he catches the end of a smile before a bag of coins is placed in the palm of his hand. 

Sasuke looks at it for a long time. He doesn’t know how long; long enough for the sick feeling in his stomach to rise again, a tightening like a barbed-wire tourniquet. Long enough that the woman speaks again. 

“Are you alright, dear?”

Sasuke swallows hard, trying desperately to keep a handle on things. Trying to keep the cart on the tracks. Trying to maintain the paper thin composure that he has been clinging to for the past day like it’s the only thing holding the pieces of him together. 

“Your ewe,” he chokes out, beyond conscious decision, “she gave birth.”

The woman’s eyebrows raise and she glances around. Sasuke shuts his eyes, he knows what she will not see. 

“The baby-” he can’t finish his sentence, throat closing too tightly around the words didn’t make it. Like his body can’t stand to speak them aloud. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I did everything I-”

“Ah,” the woman says solemnly. “That’s a shame.”

Sasuke squeezes his eyes tighter closed, doing everything he can to stop the tears from coming. He presses his lips together, forcing himself to breathe, but it comes out ragged. 

“Oh, my dear,” she murmurs, putting an arm on his shoulder. He flinches hard away from it and she immediately withdrawals, taking a tentative step back and giving him space. “It’s not your fault. Many lambs don’t make it past the first day, there’s nothing you could have done.”

Sasuke shakes his head and he tries to speak but nothing comes out. His hand is shaking where it’s clenched by his side. He thinks of the rattle of its breath. He thinks of how small its bones were after it was gone. Sasuke presses his fingertips into his eyes, trying to get rid of the memories. He thinks of the crunch of the baby bird’s skull all those years ago. He thinks of the screams he’d hear, late at night at Orochimaru’s. He thinks of the drip drip drip of the sink faucet in his silent house and the bloodstains on the walls that wouldn’t come out no matter what he did. He can’t breathe. He can’t- 

“Okay, why don’t you-” comes the woman’s voice, distant. Sasuke jerks towards the sound, but he can’t make out the features of her expression. “Stay right here, alright? Don’t go anywhere, I’m going to get you some water.”

Sasuke tries to tell her she doesn’t have to but he can’t speak. He can’t think, his mind spinning with the awful memories, with the heaviness of the loss. He feels like he can’t take a full breath again, he sinks his hand into his hair and pulls. 

Something catches his wrist. Lowers it. Something warm is pressed into his palm firmly. Insistently. He feels the texture of smooth, hot porcelain under his fingers and the firm grip of a hand around his to keep him from dropping it. He focuses on that.

“There we go,” the woman says, her voice close. “Just have some of that, alright?”

Sasuke’s hand shakes as he tries to bring the cup to his mouth, but she steadies it, helping him. Thoughtlessly, he sips from the cup. It’s just water. Just hot water. He feels it all the way into his stomach. 

“That’s it,” she says, voice low. “Just breathe and drink that, alright? Just focus on that.”

Sasuke does. Sip by sip, he does, hand steadier with every sip until he can do it on his own. He repeats it until he empties the cup.

The old woman breathes out slowly next to him, hand clasped between her knees. She doesn’t try to touch him, just sits beside him until he’s firmly back in his body. 

As the adrenaline fades, he is left empty as if it had been all that was left inside of him. Now he searches for any scrap of substance and he comes up dry, nothing to speak of except for a morbid fatigue. 

“It’s hard,” the woman’s voice breaks gently through, “when they die.”

Sasuke stares at the ground in front of him, eyes burning with fatigue. His spine feels brittle, like it can hardly hold him up, like if he breathes wrong he will crumple entirely. 

“Let me guess,” he says tonelessly, too exhausted to give his voice dimension. “It gets easier.”

“No,” she breathes out. “The deaths never get easier.”

Sasuke should find it horrifying to hear, but he knows it already. He lives as an exposed nerve, he knows it never gets easier. If anything, he’s distantly surprised that she didn’t try to lie to him. 

“But,” she continues, “sometimes they live. Sometimes you see them learn to walk. They run up to you at the fence asking for treats. They have healthy babies of their own. It never gets easier to lose them, but the joy you feel never goes away either. It all balances out in the end.”

She asks him to stay. For dinner. For the night. He refuses. 

She watches him as he walks away, out into the dark. He knows because he looks back. He looks back, but in the end, he still can’t stay. 

___

As Sasuke staggers through the muddy terrain of Hot Water Country, headache pounding against his skull and skin aching with every minute brush of his clothing, he decides to stop in daylight for the first time in months. 

The thick humidity that hangs in the air is relentlessly stifling, lingering on Sasuke’s skin and clothes, never really allowing them to be dry. The near-daily afternoon monsoons don’t help either, only ensuring that the rest of his belongings are in a perpetual state of dampness, mildew worsening with each passing day. 

Land of Hot Water is much like Rice Country, but as he travels south, the temperatures grow hotter and hotter, only compounding the issues.

It had rained last night, thoroughly soaking Sasuke and his belongings before he could find any semblance of shelter. He hasn’t even been bothering to set up his tent anymore, partially because the material is soaked and stinking, partially because he can’t be bothered, just throwing his sleeping pad down wherever he grinds to a halt for a couple of hours in the middle of the night before moving on.

Sasuke leans roughly against a tree beside the river he’s been following, pulling his pack off and dropping it on the ground before gracelessly sliding down the rough bark. 

He hisses at the pain of it against his aching skin and inhales sharply only to be met with a wet rattle that instantly degenerates into yet another coughing fit that commandeers his body until it passes. 

Sasuke lets his head thunk back against the tree, catching his breath and feeling the cold sweat all across his skin as he closes his eyes. He can’t untense; muscles shaking with the chills of fever, only getting worse by the day, becoming impossible to ignore. 

He doesn’t bother looking for any medicine in his pack- he knows very well that he doesn’t have any- but he takes out his canteen to drink from, throat raw from coughing. He could try to locate a town for medicine, but right now he barely has the money for food. He hasn’t taken a job in a month, not since- 

He can’t bring himself to do it. Not even now, when he’s desperate. 

Sasuke’s eyes flutter shut, body trying desperately to drag him into sleep now that he isn’t walking, but he jerks them open. He needs to do something about this fever and if he sleeps it’ll only get worse. 

Sasuke sits up, clenching his teeth as he begins to peel his tunic from his burning skin. It’s slow going, half because of the pain, half because of the fatigue that forces him to pause every few moments, but he manages to get himself undressed and crawls to the river, sinking into the freezing cold water. 

The shock of it only draws attention to the ache of his whole body, every joint feeling like it has been ground down like a mortar and pestle. He takes a sharp breath that devolves to coughs, clinging to one of the rough rocks until it’s over before collapsing against it, sinking as far below the water as he can stand.

It doesn’t take long to settle into simple numbness. It isn’t pleasant but it distracts him from the familiar discomforts, replacing it with something novel which can almost be called a relief. 

He looks down at his body, his forearm splayed out against the rock. He frowns at the numerous bruises that cover it, running his fingers over one on his chest, a little alarmed to feel his own ribs under his skin. Yet another thing that he doesn’t have the resources or desire to figure out. The bruises don’t slow him down like the cough and the fever, though, so he’s less inclined to care.

Sasuke closes his eyes, resting his head against the stones behind him, feeling the cold water rushing around him. He slides his hand over to his opposite shoulder, and lower, until he gets to the stump that always hurts a little bit. Even before all this, even back in Konoha, it hurt all the time. He presses his thumb into the flesh and winces, careful not to breathe too deeply, fearful of another coughing fit. He presses again. 

“You awake?” Naruto said softly into the echoey cell. Sasuke could hear him approaching his cot, but he did not turn over. “Brought you some persimmons. Apparently they grow them just outside of town, who knew?”

Sasuke felt the edge of the bed depress as Naruto sat down next to him. He knew that Naruto could see that his eyes were open, staring at the wall. He didn’t bother pretending to be asleep, but he also didn’t bother sitting up. 

“Anyway, thought you might like them,” he continued his meaningless monologue, routine by now. Always about something different. Always with the same fragile positive tone that made Sasuke want to snap at him. He never did. “Well, actually, I thought they were tomatoes, but I tried one and they’re sweet,” he chuckled, and Sasuke heard the lid of the ointment being unscrewed and tossed on the bed. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll still like them. They’re good for you, you know?”

Naruto placed his hand gently on Sasuke’s shoulder, pressing a little to get him to turn over. Wordlessly, Sasuke did, too exhausted to put up a fight about it.

Naruto looked tired as he unwrapped the bandage around his shoulder, bags under his eyes and tension in his eyebrows, but he was painfully gentle. He sat close enough that the stump of Sasuke’s arm rested on his thigh, the warmth of it confusing to his nerves, making them think his arm is there again, but the sensation was better than having no warmth at all. 

He watched Naruto carefully as he dipped his fingers into the ointment, taking the time to warm it up before he glanced at Sasuke, a silent request for permission. 

Sasuke said nothing, but he nodded minutely. Anyone else wouldn’t catch it, but this was Naruto. 

Naruto nodded back and slowly began to massage the ointment into the sensitive skin of the stump. 

It hurt, but he didn’t care. He grit his teeth, desperate not to give Naruto a reason to stop. He watched his face, the concentration on it as he cared for Sasuke. He watched his hand, warm and strong as he worked the ointment in, devastatingly tender. He did it like it was the most important thing he’d ever done. He touched Sasuke like it was all he wanted to do. Every day, he did this, and Sasuke had to bear it. He had to hold himself together and pretend that it didn’t fray the thin threads that kept the fabric of him in one piece. 

Sasuke opens his eyes, letting his hand drop back into the water. He tries not to think about it, those times, or to pretend that they were nothing but a dream. 

But here, with his fever muddled mind, he finds it hard to control himself. He finds his mind turning back to his memories each time he turns away from them like a house of mirrors. Like running fingers over a stone enough times that it renders it smooth. 

He places his hand, wet and cold from the water over his forehead, letting it soothe him.

In Sasuke’s steam-warmed apartment, he found himself quieter inside than usual, focusing only on watching the noodles cook and the sound of Naruto’s voice filling up the space of his kitchen as he leaned on the counter.

Sasuke closed his eyes and sipped the ramen broth, made from real miso and spices, not the packets that Naruto usually favored. It was salty, just how Naruto liked it. 

“Can I try?” Naruto leaned forward, looking eagerly at the noodles.

Sasuke rolled his eyes at his impatience but nevertheless dipped the ladle into the soup and offered it to him. 

Rather than taking the ladle, Naruto caught Sasuke’s hand, tilting into his space and closing his eyes as he brought it to his mouth. Sasuke watched, stunned, as he hummed low, shaking his head a little before he leaned back, not letting go of Sasuke’s hand.

“Damn,” he murmured, still close enough that Sasuke could smell whatever shampoo he had been using. “You’re giving Teuchi a run for his money,” Naruto grinned, finally releasing Sasuke’s hand and leaning back against the counter, “this is my best birthday ever.”

Internally, Sasuke thought that wasn’t saying much, given Naruto’s history with birthdays, but he snorted and took the compliment.

Sasuke added in the last few ingredients. “Just a few more minutes and it’ll be ready.”

Naruto hummed, crossing his arms. He was still standing so close, only inches away from Sasuke, a soft smile on his face as he watched him cook.

The closeness put him on edge, more intimate than they usually allow themselves with the looming presence of the ANBU surveying their every move, making sure their guard dog was doing his job. But at the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of putting distance between them, unwilling to shatter the illusion of closeness that hung warm around them. 

Sasuke looked back at the ramen, stirring it a little as the vegetables cooked. At his side, Naruto shifted a little closer, close enough that Sasuke’s elbow bumped his side as he stirred. Sasuke looked up to see Naruto staring at him.

“What is it?” 

Naruto shook his head, shrugging one shoulder. “Just happy,” he murmured.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “The ramen can’t be that good,” he turned back to the pot.

“It’s not just the ramen.”

Sasuke’s hand stilled. The look in Naruto’s eyes was not indecipherable. It rarely was, for Sasuke. Naruto had never been good at hiding his feelings, or maybe he’d just never tried that hard, but it wasn’t difficult to understand the way that he usually looked at him, like he was looking at something he wanted but couldn’t have. 

But this was different. This longing was not directionless.

Naruto reached out, hesitant enough that Sasuke could have easily stepped away, and gently tucked Sasuke’s bangs behind his ear. 

Instinctively, Sasuke caught his wrist, holding it still. His eyes flicked from Naruto’s to the door of the kitchen, past which are the windows.

“They can’t see us here,” Naruto said, voice low. 

Sasuke looked back at him. He could feel Naruto’s pulse racing at his wrist. He could feel his own doing the same.

Naruto straightened, standing at his full height and taking a step closer. Sasuke’s eyes flicked between his eyes, down to his mouth, and back up. They were only an inch apart. They were so close that Sasuke could almost feel it. He could imagine, with such clarity, Naruto leaning in and kissing him, finally, after all this. He could imagine them leaving the ramen and just letting go, just letting themselves have this. 

“Sasuke-” Naruto murmured, and Sasuke wanted it so badly he could feel it in the rush of his blood. He could feel it in Naruto’s heartbeat against his fingertips.

But then he thought of after. He thought of who he was. He thought of who Naruto was. He thought of the village, and Naruto’s promise to be the chains that kept him there. 

He ducked his head away, shutting his eyes. Naruto didn’t move away but he didn’t move forward either. 

There was a long moment of silence, of stillness. 

“Even if they can’t see,” Sasuke whispered into the space between them that feels insurmountable now, “they’ll know.”

Sasuke lets himself slip underwater, ice cold current subsuming him, a stinging shock to the system that allows no other thoughts through but the way it hurts. He holds himself there as long as he can stand it; until his lungs begin to burn and his head begins to feel like it will crack open under the pressure. When the horrible reflex to survive gives him no choice but to gasp for air, he breaches and coughs until his chest aches. 

Sasuke pulls himself unsteadily from the water, drying off as best he can with his damp, dirty clothes, and sitting on his pad as the sun begins to set. Even in the warm evening, he shakes and shakes until he starts to think he’s going to rattle apart, like his bones are held together by nothing but thin, worn threads, threatening to snap at any moment, leaving him incapacitated.  

He lies down on his mildewy pad and he looks up at the sky.

The stars shine softly, visible now that the afternoon monsoons have come and gone. It’s been a long time since he considered the stars, too busy clawing his way across the earth to look up.

As he blinks slowly up at them, exhaustion pulling him down into the ground, making him so heavy that even the upward motion of his breaths feels difficult, he loses his careful control of his own mind and he wants . 

He thinks of the warmth, the closeness, the fondness, the fragrant steam of broth, and he wishes that he had just thrown caution to the wind and let Naruto kiss him there in his kitchen. He wishes he had pulled him closer and let that ramen burn on his stove. He wishes he would have sunken his hand into his hair, he wishes he would have felt the way his body moved under his hands, he wishes he would have thrown caution to the wind and let them see. 

He wishes he would have let himself have that moment, if only to remember it. 

As Sasuke lies on his damp pad, shaking with fever, miles away from anything or anyone he knows or cares about, completely alone, he wishes he had this memory to hold onto. But he doesn’t. He’s spent his whole life denying himself things to hold onto, and for what? 

In his fevered state, it all seems so completely pointless. Everything he’s done, he’s done to avoid pain. But where is he now? What pain has he avoided? What has he done in the last eight months, the last eight years, but hurt?

He thinks of his people, and he wonders if this is their curse; with love, with connection, there is always pain, there is insanity, but without it? Without it, perhaps there is just as much. There is the pain of absence instead of presence, like starving to death instead of dying in battle. 

Perhaps this is the Curse of Hatred, after all; that there is no existence without pain. He is the last in a long line of people who are born to suffer, and perhaps he was a fool to think that there was an escape from that. 

There is no clan that feels deeper love than the Uchiha, Tobirama’s words echo in his mind. 

Sasuke stares up at the stars, letting their light blend and fracture in his unfocused eyes.

But once that love is lost, all that is left is madness. 

Sasuke wonders now, if it’s all madness.

“Why did you go that far? Why do all that?”It hurt to speak, so completely drained that even the energy of staying conscious was a strain, but he pressed onward. “Everyone tried to cut ties with me. Except you.” Sasuke’s voice broke as he tilted towards Naruto, suddenly desperate to see his face, just one more time. “You never tried to cut me off. Why do you keep on involving yourself with me?”

Naruto laughed with a fond smile, so out of place in this valley of despair. “You know that already.” His eyes were closed, face turned up towards the moon. His voice was so ragged that Sasuke could hardly make out his words. “I mean, come on. Don’t you?”

It was too much, frustration rising inside him at the non-answer. After all this time, Sasuke just wanted the truth. He wanted to understand. “Just answer me!” he shouted, a harshness in his voice that came out more like fear than anything else. 

Naruto finally turned to look at Sasuke, beaten to hell but somehow still warm and kind. “Cause you’re my friend,” he murmured. And he sounded so sure, like to him, it was obvious. Like that answer, in and of itself, was enough. Like it fully encompassed all that had happened between them. 

“You’ve told me that before, but what exactly does that mean to you?”

Naruto looked back up at the sky. “You asked me to explain it, but honestly? It’s not like I really understand it either. It’s just-” he paused, and Sasuke didn’t even let himself blink, determined not to miss a single thing that could make him understand, “when I see you take on stuff and get all messed up… it kinda…” He trailed off again, taking a stilted breath. “...hurts me. It hurts so much inside that I can’t just leave it alone, you know?”

Naruto tilted his face to look at Sasuke. It hurts. Why does it always hurt? Why do bonds feel like sharp metal hooks caught in your viscera, where every little pull, every reminder of your tie to the other person, hurts? Can there not be love without pain? 

“If it hurts,” Sasuke whispered. “Why do you hold on to it? Don’t you want the pain to stop?”

And it was too honest. Too obvious that he was speaking of his own pain, but there, on death’s door, Sasuke didn’t care.

Naruto smiled softly. “Nah,” he replied, almost careless. “The pain tells me that it’s there. That you’re still there. That I have something to lose.”

“So pain is just better than nothingness?”

Naruto shook his head, just a little, before he shifted, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself over to face Sasuke fully, body turned towards him. Sasuke could feel his eyes widen, but he said nothing.

Naruto’s face was so close, barely two inches away, and he could see every scratch and every bruise in excruciating detail. 

“You don’t understand,” Naruto said, his voice rough with the exertion, a little out of breath. “I don’t care that it hurts, if it’s you hurting me. I don’t care if I die, Sasuke, as long as it’s by your hand,” he whispered, and Sasuke held his breath as Naruto’s hand raised shakily to his cheek.

It was cold, tacky with blood, but there, as they lay dying together, it felt almost holy. 

He smiled, and his thumb swiped underneath Sasuke’s eye, brushing away his tears.

“Don’t cry,” his voice broke, and Sasuke could tell that he’s losing his consciousness, words beginning to slur.

Sasuke could feel himself begin to fade, blood loss finally catching up with him. He let his eyes slide closed, tilting his forehead just enough to let it rest against Naruto’s. 

“Naruto,” he breathed, the world fading out all around him, consciousness narrowed to the places where they touched. “I love you.”

___

On July twenty-third, Sasuke’s twenty-first birthday, Sasuke finds himself back in Fire Country after nearly nine months away. 

He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t decide it consciously. But he’s so sick, and he’s so tired, and he aches in every way a person can ache, and his body makes the choice for him, an involuntary and desperate plea for familiarity.

Once he begins to recognize the roads and the trees that line the roads, he keeps taking the ones he knows over and over, moving slow, lungs heavy and weak, body half starved, mind not even his own anymore, until he finds himself here, at the gate of the Uchiha Hideout, still standing proud with the crest at its zenith even as the rest of it sits as wreckage beyond it. 

As he looks up at it, he doesn’t know why he’s there. He doesn’t know what he expects to find. Maybe it’s a last, desperate attempt at closure. Maybe it’s an attempt at understanding. Maybe he’s just tired of being alone and this is the only place that he has left to return to. 

Sasuke breathes deeply, ignoring the heavy rattle in his chest as he does so. Even the air smells familiar. Like pine needles and earth and ozone, as the gray sky prepares for a summer storm. 

As Sasuke closes his eyes and steps across the threshold, time begins to warp and melt, and it’s only when he opens his eyes to begin picking his way through the complete and utter wreckage that he’s brought to the present. That he’s reminded that what has come to pass has already passed. 

The domes have been completely leveled, leaving behind nothing but a square mile of rubble, any and all artifacts that may have been kept inside the hideout now completely destroyed, lost to history. 

It takes him a long time to pick his way through, unable to make it far without needing to stop and cough, waiting for the persistent dizziness to subside before he can continue on, but eventually, he makes it to the center. 

Before him, the only thing still left standing in the whole compound is a thick slab of stone carved with the Uchiha crest. The very same stone that is quite literally smeared with both his and Itachi’s blood, a stark reminder of what happened that day all those years ago. 

He stares at it, and he almost has to laugh. There’s something so sick about it. That it’s still standing, that he’s here before it on his twenty-first birthday, the same age Itachi was when he killed him. When he was young, this would have been the site of his greatest achievement, but now he stands before it, as empty as he’s ever been, and it’s almost funny. 

Thunder rumbles above him and large, fat raindrops begin to fall. Sasuke watches them darken the stone like the seep of blood through clothing and he steps closer, reaching out to brush his fingers across the worn paint of the crest. 

“The last Uchiha,” he murmurs as he stares blankly at it, voice torn raw. “Right back where I started.”

His fingers slide down the rough stone to the bloodstains. He doesn’t know where his blood ends and Itachi’s begins, but really, it doesn’t matter. 

He’s done so much, his whole life, to separate himself from Itachi. To choose a different path. First out of hatred, then righteousness, then fear, he’d tried so hard to carve out a different fate for himself. He’d been arrogant to think that it was ever really his choice in the first place, that he was special enough or powerful enough to escape a fate that had plagued his people for generations before him.

But as he stands there before the headstone of his people in the pouring rain, he knows that he has failed. He knows that any attempts to escape were futile from the very beginning. 

An intense wave of anger rises inside of him. Anger at Konoha, for taking everything from him, anger at Itachi, for letting it, anger at his people for leaving him to bear the weight of it all alone, anger at fate, at the gods, anger at the world, anger at himself. He feels all the pain and loss, all the meaningless wandering, all the desperate searching for something, anything to make it better, to give him direction, to fill the gaping chasm inside of him, he feels it all compound into rage. 

Sasuke looks at the Uchiha crest, standing there before him, a symbol of everything he’s lost. At his fingertips, the Chidori flashes to life, unhinged cries echoing off of the shards of stone that surround him. Without a moment of consideration, he reels back and plunges his fist into the stone in front of him, lightning arcing all around him, singing his hair and blinding his eyes as it flashes bright white. 

He throws all he has at it, pressing mercilessly into the stone, right at the center of the fan. He presses long enough that it begins to ring in his ears, it begins to burn his skin, chakra pathways lighting up and shorting out, too much energy passing through them. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that it hurts, he doesn’t care that he can feel the pathways burn away up his arm, he just wants it gone. He never wants to see the crest again. 

As the pain reaches his shoulder, he cries out and stumbles back, Chidori finally fizzling out as he collapses onto the ground in front of the slab. 

He breathes roughly for a moment, wincing at the searing pain in his arm before a crack echoes through the hiss of the rain. Sasuke looks up, eyes widening as he watches cracks radiate from the fan until they reach the edges. Everything is silent for a moment before the slab splinters at the bottom and collapses. 

Sasuke stares as the dust settles, rain continuing on like nothing had happened, turning it to mud. Numb, he sits up. Rain drips down his face, soaking his hair and clothes, but it feels cool on his burned hand. 

After a long moment, Sasuke swallows and slowly crawls towards the slab, now in shards. It hurts to put weight on his hand, but he ignores it, feeling it distant from him. 

As he kneels before the slab, tears join the rain dripping down his cheeks. He doesn’t feel it at first, like his body is just going through the motions of pain without his conscious participation, but slowly, in waves, it begins to overtake him until heavy, wracking sobs shake his tired body. The pain is laced with a visceral homesickness that he hasn’t felt in a long time, the kind of homesickness you feel in your stomach like an illness. 

“Why,” he breathes through the sobs, “why can’t I stop the pain?”

There is no answer but the sound of the rain on the stone. All his life, no matter who he’d asked, there had never been an answer. Or, no answer but it is your fate. 

“I’ve tried everything,” he whispers, voice lost by now, “vengeance, redemption, running away. But it doesn’t matter what I do, it’s like the pain is in every cell, like it’s in the air I breathe.” He pauses to catch his breath, lungs burning and sluggish in his chest. He swallows. “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe this is what I was meant to do. Maybe I was just meant to hurt.”

He laughs, empty, and crawls further onto the slab until he is kneeling over the mangled Uchiha fan. Even after he had thrown all he had at it, it stares back at him, intact but for a large indent burned right into the middle of it. 

There’s something so sickeningly right about the whole thing. The crest of his dead people, maimed but still intact, just like its great legacy, and Sasuke, a shell of a person, on his knees before it wanting nothing more than for it to save him, for it to mean something. But it doesn’t, he realizes. All it is to him now is a symbol of the greatest pain of his life. It is a symbol of all he has loved, and all that love has been twisted into. It is a symbol of futility. Of hatred. Of loss. Anything it could have been before has been destroyed in the losing of it; the final and most stark example of the Curse of Hatred made real. 

Drawing a kunai, he holds it between his teeth and brings his arm to it. The fabric tears as he slices through it. He knicks himself more than once, blood darkening the blue fabric and seeping into the white handle of the Uchiha fan on his forearm, but he doesn’t stop until he can drop the knife and tear the sleeve the rest of the way with his teeth, excising it from himself.

He holds the square of fabric for a moment, looking at it numbly before letting it slip from his fingers. He stares at it for a long time as it darkens in the rain. The pressure in his head is unbearable, eyes burning and jaw throbbing. He feels the months on the road hit him all at once, the months on his own, the months of barely being alive, catch up to him all in one moment. As he stares at the disfigured fan, suddenly all he wants to do is sleep.

He covers his eyes with his hand, pressing them, trying to relieve the pain. He tries to take a deep breath but the rattle catches just the wrong way and he doubles over with agonizing coughs, trying to catch himself with his arm, but the cracked surface of the stone is uneven and he collapses forward, lying in the crater.

The rain continues to fall, and he doesn’t move. He sees no point in getting up. He just wants to lie there, hate and anger and pain seeping out of him like he’s bleeding to death. He wants to lie there until he finally joins his people in the afterlife. And if death won’t take him, he wants to lie there forever, like an abandoned dog refusing to leave the doorstep of its owner, clinging to an illusion of safety and belonging that doesn’t exist anymore. 

He closes his eyes. He feels the crater filling with rain. He thinks of dying here, drowned in the demolished crater of his family crest, and he decides that it’s an appropriate end. 

Chapter Text

What’s wrong with him?

I’m not sure, Atsuko. Stay behind me for now, okay?

Okay.

A pause, the sound of footsteps coming closer.

Son, you okay?

A voice. Coming from somewhere. A man. 

Is he dead?

A child. 

I don’t know.

Sasuke is being shaken. He tries to respond but his body does not react to his orders.

He’s being dragged. Sasuke forces his eyes open, just a sliver, just enough to see sunlight and a figure looming over him. They shut again, beyond his control. Every part of him aches, and with every sliver of awareness he regains, it only worsens. 

“Are you with me, boy?” Someone speaks. Sasuke squints, his vision solidifies long enough to see an old man leaning over him. Gray beard. White hair. The field doubles again, and he closes his eyes. 

Sasuke should push him back. Defend himself. But he can’t move, not even the rush of adrenaline is able to scrape together enough energy to react. 

“What’s wrong with him?” calls a second voice. The voice of the kid. “He looks sick, grandpa. Is he sick?”

A hand rests on his forehead gently for a moment, cool against his burning skin, followed by a solemn hum. “He’s sick, but alive. Bring me that water, will you?”

A second set of footsteps, much lighter, approach. 

Sasuke feels himself being pulled into somewhat of a sitting position. He tries to coordinate his body enough to hold himself up, to lean away, even stand, but he just slumps into the old man. He can’t get his eyes to open, but the man smells strongly of cedar, his shirt rough against Sasuke’s cheek

Something cold is pressed to his mouth and he tries to reel back before his head is gently caught. “Hold still,” the old man said firmly, “it’s water. Drink.”

Sasuke does as he is told. He doesn’t have much of a choice, too tired to try to resist. The water is cool and clean, and it soothes his raw throat.

It’s hard to stay conscious. It takes all of his concentration to get his body to swallow the water, and when he’s done, not much else is tethering him to awareness.

“I can’t leave you out here all by yourself, so we have to get you up, okay?”

Sasuke can’t generate any response, and the old man sighs, shifting him to drag him across his back. Sasuke feels him stand, drifting in and out with the sway of his steps. He doesn’t know where he’s being taken, but he finds that it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. 

He lets go and allows the quiet of unconsciousness to wrap him in darkness. 

___

Sasuke’s senses come back to him gradually, like condensation gathering on a window, forming into rivulets that fall one at a time.

At first all he can feel is that he’s dry. His skin is not cold and damp, nor does it itch with fever. He’s warm, covered in a heavy blanket, body sinking into something soft.

He smells pine and freshly cut grass and something unfamiliar, like your first time in someone else’s home, the distinct but unnamable smell of a person living somewhere. Sasuke breathes in and his ribs ache, like he hadn’t done that in long enough that his body had become unaccustomed to it. 

Distantly he can hear birds. The sound of a breeze rustling through trees. The tick tick tick of a windmill.

A shadow crosses over his eyes and slowly he opens them, wincing at first at the bright light that falls across him, blinking to acclimate himself to it. 

He can make out a gauzy white curtain, oscillating gently against the window like the room itself is breathing. 

He blinks again. Out the window he can see the branches of a tree, covered in delicate green leaves; a ginkgo tree, its leaves fluttering gently with the breeze.

He doesn’t know where he is, he thinks, as his eyes slide to the beamed ceiling. The room is entirely unfamiliar and mostly unfurnished, with very few clues as to who owns it. He appears to be in a western style bed, but he can’t find the energy to sit up and examine it more closely. He lets his head fall back to its position looking out the window. He lets his eyes slide closed again. 

The next time he wakes, it is to the creak of the floor beside his bed. He peels his eyes open, blurry at first, and turns towards the noise. 

Vaguely, he can see the outline of someone standing beside his bed, moving around. His heart picks up and he blinks again, vision clearing enough to make out the short stature and colorful clothing before he scrambles to sit up, desperate to put some distance between them. 

Before he can even get his elbow under himself, he’s hit with a wave of splitting pain and dizziness so severe that it pulls a gasp form him, his hand shooting up to cover his eyes as he reels from the overwhelming sensation, falling back onto his forearm. 

Distantly, he can hear the kid startle, dropping something on his bedside before dashing out of the room without a word. 

Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think. He doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know how he got there, he doesn’t know who’s around. He should try to get up and leave before anyone else comes and sees him in this state, but the room spins and it begins to dawn on him just how weak his body is, barely able to prop himself up on his elbow. 

From outside the room he hears voices and he tries to open his eyes again as footsteps get closer and closer until he hears the hiss of the door. 

Panic overwhelms him, and he tries again to sit up only to be instantly hit with a staggering wave of nausea, rising up in his stomach and making his mouth water as his vision spots black. 

“You’re awake,” says a gravelly voice from much closer than he expected, too overcome to notice the man walking in. He sounds vaguely familiar, but as Sasuke tries to recall where he knows it from, his mind comes up blank. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to wake up at all.”

Sasuke tries to pull himself together, wrenching his eyes open to glance at the man standing at the side of his bed. He’s got a gray beard and white hair, and Sasuke swears he’s seen him, but-

Another wave of nausea washes over him like breathing in lake water and he shuts his eyes again. He feels the edge of his bed sink down and a hand grip his upper arm, pulling him gently up from his position, and he’s too disoriented to wrench himself away.

Sitting all the way up only makes everything worse, his vision fades entirely to black for a moment and he feels the world tilting around him, stomach turning violently, giving him only a split second warning before he heaves. 

The old man shoves a bucket in front of him just in time, and Sasuke feels him place a hand on his back as he vomits into it. As he clings to the bucket, violently emptying his stomach, his unbound hair falls into his face before someone gathers it, carefully pulling it out of the way. 

It reminds him, for a split second, of his mother, who used to sit with him when he was sick, unafraid of his germs like Itachi was. She would stroke his hair and rub his back, and even when he was inconsolable, it made him feel like things would be okay. 

Sasuke shakes the memory away as he catches his breath, knuckles white as he feels the cold sweat all over his face and body, heart slowing after the ordeal, chills slowly beginning to fade away.

“Atsuko, will you get a wet washcloth, please?” The old man calls behind him. Sasuke cracks an eye open, just enough to see the little girl from before peeking in from behind the door jamb, startling when she notices him looking at her and disappearing. He shuts his eye and turns back to his bucket. 

After a moment, he hears light, trepidatious footsteps enter the room and stop right beside his bed. It’s quiet for a moment, and Sasuke opens his eyes to look, only to see the little girl, Atsuko, holding out a damp washcloth to him.

He hesitates for only a moment before he reaches over to take it from her, immediately followed by her stepping behind the old man and clutching at his sleeve.

“Thank you, Atsuko,” the old man says warmly. Sasuke shakily wipes the edge of his mouth and the sweat on his face, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily, trying to reorient himself. 

After a moment, the old man takes the cloth from him, replacing it with a small cup of water which Sasuke gratefully drinks before swishing it around in his mouth and spitting it into the bucket. Grimacing, Sasuke removes the bucket from his lap and allows the man to take it from him, reasonably certain that he won’t need it again despite the nausea not having fully subsided. 

“Feeling better?” the old man asks, removing his hand from Sasuke’s back and settling a respectful distance away. 

Sasuke swallows, throat raw. He knows distantly that he should feel panic; unfamiliar place, unfamiliar people, but he feels nothing. The absence of feeling. Numbness. Exhaustion. He just wants to lie back down.

“Where am I?” He asks in lieu of a response.

The old man frowns. “You’re in Fire Country, son. About four miles from the old Uchiha settlement.”

Sasuke shuts his eyes, pressing his fingers into them. The Uchiha Hideout, he-

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The man asks, concern apparent in his voice.

Sasuke tries to think, only flashes coming to him. The rain, the crest. Flashes of lightning. 

“I-” he winces, his headache growing more sharp with the effort of thought, mind cloudy. “I was traveling. It was raining, I-”

The man’s frown grows deeper. “We found you in the wreckage of the old Uchiha compound.”

Sasuke vaguely recalls the gate. He remembers picking his way through the rubble. 

“You were terribly sick,” he continues. “Fever, pneumonia, probably malnutrition. You were delirious, I’m not surprised that you don’t remember it, but we found you there and brought you back here. That was a week ago.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen and he leans forward unconsciously. “A week? That’s- that can’t be right. I-” Sasuke feels the old, instinctual panic rise inside of him, like it’s finally been kickstarted after dormancy. He shifts forward, glancing around him. He needs to leave, he can’t stay here any longer, he needs to get out before-

Before he can even shift his legs to the side of the bed, he’s hit with a powerful wave of nausea, vision threatening to go black again. His muscles feel uncoordinated, like he can’t control them the way he used to, like they’re slower, weaker than they’ve ever been before. He stills, hand going to his forehead as he waits for the world to stop spinning around him, shutting his eyes. 

The old man puts a steadying hand on his shoulder as he begins to list to the side, ensuring that he doesn’t just topple over right there in bed. 

“Alright, alright, just take it easy,” he mutters. “There’s no need to rush, just slow down, son.”

Memories begin to flood his mind; the stone slab, the blood, plunging the chidori into it. The sound of the cracks as it fell to pieces. The coolness of the rain as he lay in the crevice, waiting to die.

“I need to go-” he tries again, but even to himself, it’s halfhearted.

“Go where?” The old man says indignantly. “Kid, you can’t even maintain an upright posture on your own right now, how’re you going to walk out of here?”

Sasuke breathes slowly. He can feel that the man is right, even just sitting here, he can feel how hard it is, how completely devoid of strength and energy his body is. He settles. 

“Listen,” the old man speaks a little softer, still stern, “you’ve been really sick, just give it some time. Wait until you get your sea legs back, alright? The world will be there for you when you’re ready.”

Sasuke looks at him. His hands are gnarled like the oaks roots in Iron Country, covered with liver spots and wrinkles. He’s hunched over, proof of a long life, gravity’s pull on a spine over the course of decades. His face is worn and wrinkled and stern, but his eyes are soft and there’s a transparency in them that makes Sasuke deflate. Or perhaps he’s just tired and he knows when he’s beat. After all of this, he can recognize futility. Slowly, he nods.

The old man nods back, taking the cup from Sasuke’s hand and standing up with a groan. “I’ll get you some more water and we’ll leave you to rest,” he puts a hand on the little girl’s head where she hides behind his legs, surveying Sasuke carefully. “You got a name, son?”

“Sasuke,” he replies without thinking, body already beginning to feel indescribably heavy again, beckoning him to sleep. 

The man looks at him for a beat before he clears his throat. “I’m Genji,” he nods towards the kid at his legs, “this is Atsuko.”

Sasuke nods numbly.

“Get some rest,” Genji says, hobbling towards the doorway, gait stiff with age. “We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

By the time the door clicks closed, Sasuke’s eyes are heavy, and for once, he just lets them close, slipping into a dreamless sleep. 

___

They don’t wake him for dinner. Sasuke sleeps through it, then through the night, then through the next morning until he wakes, groggy, to the warm afternoon sun slanting through the window across his face. 

He’s disoriented at first, memories of where he is and what had happened returning to him slowly, like silt settling at the bottom of a glass, before he throws his elbow over his eyes in an futile attempt to dull his thoughts. He breathes deeply of the fresh air coming in through the still-open window. It’s warmer than it had been the first time he’d woken up, late July heat collecting in the small room, making it stuffy.

After a long moment, Sasuke removes his arm and glances around the room, this time alert enough to be able to really see it. The ceiling is slanted, large beams running across it, making him think the house is probably relatively old, with worn wood making up all of the infrastructure, but it looks sturdy nonetheless. 

The room is unfussy. The bed is pushed in the corner by the large window with gauzy white curtains that let all the light in, and there is a dresser on the other side of the room. Next to the bed is a handmade-looking table with a single lamp on it and a stack of what appear to be scraps of paper. 

Sasuke’s eyebrows draw together and he slowly props himself up on his elbow, giving his body time to go through the dizziness and spotty vision he has come to expect before he reaches over to pick up one of the papers. 

On the paper is a crude drawing of an animal, he’s not sure what kind, sitting in the grass, looking up at the sun. There is no writing on the paper, but at the bottom is a smiley face.

Sasuke picks up another one, this time of two anthropomorphized flowers sitting in a field together. Another one has a completely unrecognizable object that appears to be drinking tea with a smile on its face.

He sifts through each and every drawing, of which there have to be at least ten or twelve. They are obviously the work of a young kid, probably the little girl he’d seen earlier. 

Sasuke frowns down at them for a long moment before he sighs, carefully placing them back on the table. Next to the papers lies his eyepatch, worn and scratched as ever, but carefully cleaned. Sasuke stills for a moment, the realization that this means that they’ve seen his Rinnegan creeping over him, before the anxiety falls away, too weak to be held onto. If they haven’t thrown him out by now, they likely aren’t going to. Still, he places the patch over his eye regardless. 

Thoughtlessly, he sits the rest of the way up, letting his feet hang off the edge of the bed, the echoing wave of discomfort is powerful, but he refuses to let it overtake him. He’s been stuck in this room for a week, and it’s time to get up.

Gritting his teeth, Sasuke tips forward, feeling the scratchy fibers of a wool rug under his toes, but not wanting to risk the precarious stability he has maintained to glance down at it. He takes a breath, in and out, and decides that there is no time for indecision; he stands.

Within a second of doing so, his vision blackens entirely. Dizziness hits him hard and the room tilts, he staggers, the muscles in his legs not strong enough to hold him. 

A moment later, he blinks to find himself collapsed on the floor, his hand desperately clutching at the bedside table the only thing keeping him upright. 

Sasuke blinks rapidly, trying to get the black edges of his vision to recede and the sickening spinning to still, fingernails digging in hard to the wood. He’s disoriented enough that he doesn’t notice someone else entering the room until the old man is in front of him, gripping his shoulders. 

He’s speaking, but Sasuke doesn’t understand him until the third time he repeats himself. 

“You okay?” He asks with a frantic edge, looking over Sasuke. “You hit your head?”

Sasuke shakes his head no and winces at the spinning sensation that follows. 

Genji visibly relaxes, letting out a sigh and pulling Sasuke’s arm around his shoulder, standing up with great effort and dumping him back on the edge of the bed.

“What’d I tell you about taking it easy, boy?” he snaps as Sasuke drags his hand over his eyes, trying to reorient after the change in position. 

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to get yourself concussed, and then what are we going to do with you?”

Sasuke opens his eyes and finds himself shocked at the real, naked fear on Genji’s face at the prospect of him getting injured further.

“I can take care of myself,” Sasuke mutters, shaking off the heavy gaze rather than considering it. 

Genji raises an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips as he looks over Sasuke dubiously. “Can you?”

Sasuke’s mouth snaps shut and he looks away, unwilling and unable to argue further on the matter. 

Genji scoffs, and Sasuke hears him shuffle out of the room, leaving the door ajar. He exhales, the exhaustion creeping back in again, stronger than ever as he lets himself deflate, closing his eyes. 

Just as Sasuke is about to crawl back into bed, thoroughly discouraged from venturing out, the door creaks open and he glances up.

Genji’s face is set into hard lines, frustration clear, but he doesn’t gripe at Sasuke more, only pulling something from behind his back and propping it on the bedside table. An old wooden cane. 

“If you insist on moving around without any help, take it slow,” he says, tone clipped. “And use this so you don’t fall. I’m too damn old to be scraping a grown man off the floor every day.”

Sasuke presses his lips into a line and refuses to look at Genji. After a long moment of silence, Genji sighs and takes his leave, this time closing the door sharply behind him with a click. 

Sasuke looks at the cane and feels an unnamed shame grow inside of him. He feels almost insulted that it had been offered, like Genji is trying to mock him, but as soon as the thought comes, it goes, dissolving like salt in hot water. 

He shuts his eyes, tiredness begging him to let them stay closed, worn out by what little activity he’s had in the last ten minutes. A year ago, he would have grit his teeth and clenched his fists and dragged himself out of the room if that’s what it took, but now, he just can’t find it in him to persevere. Rather, he lets out a slow breath and maneuvers stiffly back into bed, letting his head rest against the soft pillow and closing his eyes just like they demand. 

___

The next few days are much the same; he tries to get up, tries to walk without the cane, but he is largely unsuccessful. 

The farthest Sasuke can make it on his own is the small half-bathroom right next to his room with only enough space for a toilet and a sink, but it’s good enough for him to use and brush his teeth once a day. 

It takes levels of patience that Sasuke’s not sure he knew he had before. Every single motion has to be slow, every single change in position has to be measured and left to settle before a new one can be executed, every muscle in his body is so weakened and so uncoordinated that he feels like he was just born yesterday rather than a shinobi who used to be one of the most formidable in the world. Sasuke had defeated a god three years ago and now he can barely make it to the bathroom on his own. 

This feat alone is time consuming enough that by the time he collapses back into bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body but otherwise generally intact, there is a new drawing placed apart from the large stack. Breathing out, trying to steady himself again, Sasuke gently unfolds it.

This one is a rudimentary drawing of a bug, which, judging by the yellow lines emanating from its thorax, is supposed to be a firefly. It’s floating around in a sea of green scribbles and it appears to have some sort of bandage around one of its legs. Per usual, the unused space in the drawing is covered in other shapes and various doodles, but no writing.

Despite himself, Sasuke huffs with a brief quirk at the corner of his mouth, shaking his head as he looks down at the picture. 

Atsuko’s clearly a shy kid; he’s barely seen her since that first day except in passing, and even then she seems too scared to talk to him, but she’s persistent with her drawings. Like she simultaneously is too terrified of the stranger in her house to meet him directly but too curious to leave him entirely alone. 

Sasuke is drawn from his thoughts by a knock at his door, followed shortly by Genji pushing it open, a tray of food in his hands. 

Genji’s eyes soften as he glances down at the paper in Sasuke’s hand, slowly moving into the room and setting the tray on the table as Sasuke puts it on the stack with all the others. 

“Wasn’t sure you were looking at those,” Genji huffs, nodding towards the stack of little papers. 

Sasuke doesn’t respond, only reaching out to slowly eat some of the cut up vegetables on the plate. He’s learned to take it slow even if he’s hungry, if he wants to keep it down. 

Genji sighs, picking up the top paper and looking at it with a smile. “You know, she’d love it if you’d come out of your room.”

Sasuke stares into space as he eats, not able to formulate any articulate response to that. 

He doesn’t look at Genji but he can imagine the exasperation on his face as he scoffs. “She’s shy, you know. You’re always locked in here. It’s not like you’re making it easy for her, but she still gives you these,” Sasuke can see him brandishing a paper from his periphery.

“I can’t walk,” Sasuke snaps, finally looking at him. It’s not really what he means. He can walk, but not without feeling like he’s going to shake apart at the joints like a rickety house. Not without the sick spinning and the nausea and the sheen of sweat like he’s running a fever. He can walk, but not with his dignity intact.

“Sure you can,” Genji says sharply, putting a hand on the curved top of the cane that rests, untouched, by the side of Sasuke’s bed. “You just won’t make it easier on yourself.”

Sasuke looks away, not having the energy to argue with him, but also unwilling to concede his point. 

“Just think about it, kid,” Genji lets go of the cane and turns to leave him to it. “Can’t hide in here forever.”

Sasuke grits his teeth at the implication but he says nothing, just looks stubbornly away until he hears the click of the door, leaving him blissfully alone. He sighs, leaning against the headboard and eating slowly as he looks out the window. 

It’s not that he wants to stay in this room forever. He just doesn’t want to be witnessed as he is now, not by anybody. 

So he doesn’t think about dragging himself out of the room, or starting to use the cane, or swallowing his pride. What he thinks about is the fact that he hasn’t showered in, conservatively, a week, and the half-bath is no longer cutting it. 

He waits until it gets dark, until the sounds of Genji and Atsuko shuffling around the house fade into silence, and then an extra hour, just for good measure. 

He sits at the edge of the bed, feet on the ground. It’s dark in the room, lamp turned off so as to not alert anyone of his plan. The cooler night air drifts in gently through the window, ruffling the moon-illuminated curtains, and he watches the shadows across the door as he waits for his body to adjust. 

He breathes deeply, and it’s almost funny; Uchiha Sasuke, most wanted in the bingo book for over a year, reincarnation of Indra, unparalleled shinobi, psyching himself up to cross the twenty foot distance between the living room and the bathroom with a shower like he’s preparing to go into battle. 

Sasuke’s eyes fall on the cane, right where Genji had left it. 

“Walk it off,” Fugaku snapped at him, narrowing his eyes at Sasuke where he lay sprawled on the ground. 

“Fugaku!” 

Fugaku rounded on Mikoto, ire turned on her like a searchlight looking for a boat among the waves. “You think it will be easy for him out there?” Fugaku bit out at her. “You think the world will care about a little twisted ankle? You think our enemies will wait for him to finish crying before they take his life?”

“No, I-”

“Exactly, no. They won’t. Don’t you want our son to survive, Mikoto? Do you want him to be a liability to his comrades?” Fugaku turned back to Sasuke, and he shrank away, heart in his throat. “The world doesn’t wait for the weak, Sasuke,” he spat, “now make your choice.”

Sasuke exhales and begins to move, leaving the cane where it is. By the time he reaches his doorway, he can feel the dizziness encroaching on him and he holds still, stubbornly breathing through it until he can make it another few feet. 

It’s not a big house, but like this, only making it a few feet at a time before having to rest, nausea and weakness settling insistently in his body, it feels boundless. By the time he makes it to the bathroom, he can feel the sweat gathering all over his body, and he leans heavily against the door, breaths coming fast and uneven as he desperately tries to hold himself together.

Swallowing hard, he begins to undress in the dark, head lolling back against the door as he weakly unties his pants and shrugs off his shirt. The air is uncomfortably cool against his skin, but he doesn’t allow his momentum to be lost, stumbling over to the shower and turning it on deftly.  

The hot water feels good, and Sasuke closes his eyes, sinking to his knees in the tub, unable to keep standing any longer. 

For several long minutes, all he can do is kneel there under the spray, letting it rinse him clean. He breathes through his mouth as the water soaks his hair, streaming from his nose as he sinks his hand into it, rubbing absentmindedly at his scalp. 

Slowly, methodically, he cleans himself. His face, his hair, shoulder length by now, his body. Every task feels insurmountable before he starts doing it, and with the number of pauses he has to take, the water has long run cold by the time he’s done. 

It takes all his energy to turn off the water and drag himself from the shower, and he finds that he can’t stand, only collapsing back to the floor in a pile of weakened limbs.

He breathes deeply and dries himself on the floor, leaning against the cupboards for leverage to get his pants back on and entirely unable to do more than shrug his arms into the sleeves, leaving the front of his shirt untied. 

Sasuke lets his head fall back against the cupboard with a thunk, closing his eyes for a moment. He feels heavier than he’s ever been before, like the very gravity around him has increased. Every move of a muscle feels like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. The only thing that feels easy is sleep. He could keep his eyes closed and fall asleep right here, just like that. He could give it up and lie on the floor, and perhaps that would be fine.

He wrenches his eyes open again, ignoring the burn of them and clinging to the edge of the counter, slowly getting his feet under him and pulling up.

For a single, foolish moment, he really thinks he’s going to make it. He thinks he’ll just be able to stand, walk back to his room, and none will be the wiser. But the bath mat moves just the slightest bit under his foot, just enough to throw off his balance, and his body can’t recover. He lunges out for something to grab hold of, but the only thing his hand finds is the precariously stacked towel holder, which crashes to the ground along with him. 

Sasuke sits still, collapsed on the bathroom floor of a stranger’s house, heart beating out of his chest, head spinning, and he thinks that this can’t be reality. He drops his head between his knees, sinks his hand into his damp hair, and he thinks that this must be a dream, because all the suffering before this, that had been excusable. Mortal injury, loss of life, the pain of nomadism, the ache of hunger, the soreness of never stilling, these were pains that he knew. They were pains that were in his blood, inherited from a long line of people who suffered before him. This is something else. This is weakness. 

And he wants to keep moving, he wants to shake it off and grit his teeth and bear it, but he can’t. He can’t scrape himself off the floor. There isn’t anything left to hold him together. 

Distantly, he hears heavy footsteps, the only warning before the bathroom door is wrenched open. Sasuke peers up at Genji, panic on his face, before it settles into something much worse; pity. 

“Ah, kid,” is all he says before Sasuke can’t look at him any more, letting his face drop back between his bent knees. 

His instinct is to snap, shame rooting itself deep in the sinews of his body at the thought of having been caught like this, but he can’t even find it in himself to raise his head. He hears Genji sigh before stepping further into the bathroom, carefully avoiding his legs and groaning as he takes a seat on the toilet to Sasuke’s right. 

“I’d join you on the floor, but I’m too damn old to keep getting up and down this often,” he chuckles, patting his own knee. “One of these times I’m just not going to get up, and I have a feeling that this shouldn’t be the time.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond, staring numbly at the old tile floors under him, watching as his hair slowly drips, making a puddle below him.  

For a long moment, it’s silent, like Genji’s giving him a chance to explain himself, but Sasuke won’t. Can’t. 

“What’s the plan, here?” Genji says, voice gentle but not as patronizing as Sasuke expects. Still, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have an answer. 

“I know you want to get better,” he continues, “but what, do you think one day you’ll wake up and it’ll all be over, just like that?”

It stings, like he’s being scolded. He feels young again, like he’s back in school, like someone is rapping his knuckles, not enough to hurt, but enough to embarrass him. 

“And why wouldn’t it,” Sasuke snaps, but it comes out weak. “I’ve- I’ve been through worse and made it through fine. Why should this-” he swallows, “it was just a cold, I should be fine by now. Why-”

“It wasn’t just a cold, Sasuke,” Genji says slowly, hesitating before he continues. “It wasn’t just the pneumonia. Your body was in such bad shape, we didn’t even know where to begin. This isn’t the kind of thing you just shake off.”

Sasuke presses his lips together, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t understand what this is,” he grits out, a little too honest. “Why are you here?” His words sound venomous. His memories flash, briefly, with snow and blood, and the sounds of an animal caught in a snare, before they dissipate. 

“Well, I heard a crashing sound. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t brained yourself on the counter,” Genji chuckles weakly. Sasuke doesn’t prompt him again, knowing that he knows what he meant. 

Genji clears his throat and breathes out audibly. “Look, kid. Sometimes people need help, it’s that simple. And if I’m in a position to give it, then why wouldn’t I?”

He speaks about it like that’s all there is to it. Like life itself is not a pit of vipers, like it's as easy as holding your hand out to help someone up.

Part of him wants to dismiss it as naive, but he can’t quite do it anymore. He thinks of Naruto and his insistent brightness and the way he sees the world, and maybe it’s naivete, but Sasuke can’t bring himself to condemn it if it is. At least he tries. At least he’s living. 

Sasuke half heartedly shakes the thoughts away, but it softens him. Or maybe he’s just too tired to hold onto vitriol the way he used to, but he feels it settle somewhere inaccessible inside of him and he breathes out slowly, raising his head and letting it rest against the cupboard. 

“I don’t understand why I’m not getting better,” he murmurs into the silence they sit in. It feels vulnerable, like he’s showing his soft underbelly. But that’s where the wound is. If he keeps hiding it, he fears it will never heal. 

Genji’s quiet long enough that Sasuke turns to look at him, only to find him studying him with an unreadable expression. He clasps his hands together on his knees and glances away for a moment, thoughts clearly somewhere else, before he pulls himself back.

“Nothing is limitless, Sasuke,” he says, voice low and solemn. “Your body, your mind- there’s a point at which the damage they sustain can’t just be brushed off anymore. Maybe it takes years, maybe a lifetime, but-” Genji swallows, shaking his head. “Even the most flexible reed will snap if bent far enough, and then the fix is not so simple, is it?”

“You’re saying I’m weak?” 

It’s an absurd thing to say, but Sasuke feels compelled, like some sort of basal impulse that overrides reason or intention. 

“I’m saying you’re human.”

Sasuke looks at Genji, sitting there in the dark bathroom in the middle of the night with some kid he doesn’t even know, and feels like it’s a dream. He doesn’t understand why he’d bother. Helping, sure, but like he said, there are limits to everything, and Sasuke feels like he’d reached his limit with Genji days ago.

But as he studies his face, there is a sadness there. Something more than just kindness, something below the surface, some unnamed grief, some unnamed love. And he’s not surprised to see it. It’s like opening a silent music box to see a part broken- it’s almost necessitated by the state of things. He doesn’t know where the pain is coming from, but seeing it there answers his question. Why is Genji here? Because love is madness. 

“Your past is yours to keep, Sasuke, I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn't belong,” Genji continues, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “But it’s clear life hasn’t been a walk in the park for you. I’m here to tell you that it’s not a sin to be human. It’s not some sort of weakness to bleed when you fall down, or to rest when you’re tired. And look, I know you don’t want my advice, but I’m going to give it to you anyway-” he pauses, like he’s waiting until he’s sure Sasuke is listening, and despite himself, he is. “You’re a person. No matter what has come before this, I know that much for damn sure. I think you’d do well to stop denying yourself that.”

Sasuke glances away from him, gaze settling on the opposite wall, mind too muddled to formulate a response, and he closes his eyes. He’s tired of fighting. He’s tired of resistance. He’s just tired.

Genji sighs and groans as he stands up, carefully walking around Sasuke before leaving him alone in the bathroom. 

Sasuke doesn’t open his eyes. He really will fall asleep here, muscles too exhausted to drag himself back to his room. Distantly he knows it’s humiliating, but the somatic sensation of it never comes, like there’s just not enough energy to manifest it. 

He hears the door creak open and he peels his eyes open to see Genji there, hand outstretched;  in it, the cane. 

Sasuke looks at it for a long moment. The truth is that he doesn’t know what the plan is. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He’s spent nine months running, grinding himself into dust, all for a purpose that doesn’t even really exist. All for the futile goal of avoiding pain, only to realize that pain is everywhere, no matter what you do. 

And now what? He can’t keep running, and even if he could, where would he run? Suffering lives in the cells of your body, trying to escape it is senseless. 

He thinks about the wolf, all those months ago, the snares that only got tighter and tighter the more it struggled, slowly bleeding it to death in its attempts to be free.

Perhaps, after all this, it’s time to let go. Perhaps, if he wants to survive, he has to be still. 

Sasuke swallows, looking at Genji for only another moment before he reaches out to take the cane.

Genji smiles, and there’s a relief in his expression that makes Sasuke feel a little sick. 

“Let’s get you off the floor, then,” he says, warmly, offering Sasuke a steadying arm. Sasuke takes it.

Chapter Text

The kitchen table is so covered with vegetables that Sasuke hardly has a place to blearily set his mug of tea, late August harvest apparently bountiful enough that the baskets in the kitchen dedicated to holding the various cucumbers, tomatoes, and squash are overflowing onto other surfaces. 

Deftly, Sasuke nudges aside a melon, blinking rapidly to try to wake himself as he takes a seat at the table, propping his cane against his chair and slumping forward. His unbound hair gets a little caught in his eyepatch as his bangs fall over his face, but he’s too groggy to bother with tying it back just yet. 

In his periphery, Genji shuffles around the kitchen, scooping out some rice and a marinated egg from the fridge and handing it to Atsuko wordlessly as she meanders in, clearly just as sleepy as Sasuke, rubbing at her eyes as she makes her way silently to the table, putting her bowl on it before climbing into the chair beside him. 

She still doesn’t speak to him much even after a month, but some of the initial terror seems to have worn off, settling now into a shy curiosity that Sasuke doesn’t know what to do with. 

He takes a sip of his tea and glances at her, catching her staring at him with those big eyes before she startles and turns quickly back to her food, pretending he isn’t there. Sasuke huffs and closes his eyes, letting the fragrant tea wake him up slowly but surely. 

“Nothing to eat again, Sasuke?” Genji gripes at him from where he’s preparing himself something at the counter.

Sasuke holds himself back from rolling his eyes, simply shaking his head.

Genji clicks his tongue, “How can your body ever get better if you don’t give it the proper fuel?” 

This is an argument they’ve had several times, but Genji never seems to tire of it.

“I eat just fine,” Sasuke mutters into his cup, only half heartedly engaging.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It’s no wonder you have no energy,” Genji continues on as he settles down at the table and begins to eat, grousing at Sasuke in between bites.

Not feeling that a response is necessary at this point, Sasuke tunes out. He’s not entirely wrong, Sasuke probably would be getting better faster if he was more dedicated to a balanced diet, but his progress isn’t so bad. He can walk around the house as long as he takes it slow and uses his cane. He can stay awake long enough to spend time in the common spaces, using up most of his days on the porch outside or in the living room reading some of Genji’s terribly dry non fiction books about farming. 

His stamina certainly leaves something to be desired; only able to be up and about for a few minutes at a time, and not really able to make it through the day without at least one nap, but it’s better than it had been. He tries to focus on that. 

“I’ll be going out to the fields today,” Genji says, pulling Sasuke from his thoughts. “Need to finish the last of the summer harvest. You can watch Atsuko?”

Sasuke vaguely remembers that it’s Sunday, so no daycare. Still, he’s only watched her once or twice, and not ever for more than an hour or so. He glances at Atsuko, clearly listening but pretending she isn’t. “Yeah, sure. Fine,” he agrees after a moment, taking a sip of his tea. 

“Excellent,” Genji grins at Sasuke like he’s pulled off a perfect con, “I’ll be back in the early afternoon.”

Unsure of what “watching Atsuko” is really supposed to entail, Sasuke just does what he always does; drag himself to the couch in the living room and read while Atsuko wanders around and does whatever it is that five year olds do. 

This book is dry, even for Genji’s collection, detailing the history of agriculture in Land of Fire with an intensity that could only be done by someone who thinks of nothing else. Needless to say, Sasuke finds his interest drifting away to anything else quite frequently. 

Atsuko doesn’t interact with him much, but she keeps her eye on him. She plays with her toys on the floor for a while, she wanders in and out of her room, all the while clearly holding an acute awareness of where he is and what he’s doing. 

It’s hard to determine the origin of it -Sasuke really has no experience with kids except for when he was one himself- but it could either be apprehension or curiosity. Whichever it is, it would be entirely understandable, so Sasuke just holds himself still, reading and glancing up at her every so often in as non-menacing a manner as he can. 

After a full hour of this, Sasuke starts to doze, attention no longer being kept by his book enough to keep him fully conscious. He lets his head fall back against the couch and closes his eyes, drifting in and out of a twilight state for a while, until he distantly hears the sound of Atsuko’s feet getting closer to him. 

Sasuke cracks an eye open, watching as she shuffles over to him and climbs onto the other end of the couch with little fanfare. As she settles in, he notices that she’s holding a beat up picture book, and studies her as she glances at him carefully before opening it up. 

He can’t help but smile a little at her combined timidness and courage, and he closes his eyes again, just to give her some space. 

It strikes him as a little odd that she isn’t in school. He doesn’t know that much about kids, but he recalls that four or five is around when they start to at least learn how to read. But judging by the picture book that seems almost entirely devoid of words, and the lack of language on the drawings she gives him, he would guess that that hasn’t happened. 

He wonders about it until his consciousness starts to fray at the edges and he lets himself drift.

“If he’d just pay attention, maybe he’d be worth something,” came a voice from inside the classroom. 

“What, Naruto? That kid’s so in his own world you can hardly reach him, and when he’s in our world, all he’s interested in doing is causing trouble,” replied another voice. Iruka-sensei if Sasuke remembered correctly, and he always did. 

“I just don’t know what Lord Fifth was thinking,” Iruka muttered, voice coming closer to the corner of the yard where Sasuke ate his lunch alone, hidden from prying eyes. He probably thought they were alone, and Sasuke wanted to keep it that way, shrinking back further out of sight. “I mean I know he’s been through a lot but I don’t know what to do with the kid. He just isn’t cut out for this.”

The other man sighed. “He’s difficult, that’s for sure. And he’s so far behind everyone else, I mean hell, Uchiha’s whole clan was wiped out and he’s the best in class. If that doesn’t say something-”

Sasuke stilled, a bite of rice halfway to his mouth.

“Come on, Mizuki,” Iruka halfheartedly scolded, but he didn’t correct him.

Sasuke put his chopsticks down and covered his food, appetite gone, chased away by the sick feeling of casual cruelty of their so-called mentors. 

He sat there for a long time after they left, long enough that he was almost late to class. Almost. 

He took his seat silently behind Naruto, bright head of blond hair resting on the desk beside his classwork. Surreptitiously, Sasuke glanced at the paper, curious about what this infamously terrible work really looked like. 

On the paper, there was not a lack of effort. The worksheet was half completed, but not because Naruto had stopped halfway through. It was half completed because he just didn’t know, the paper littered with question marks. 

Sasuke forced his eyes back to his own paper, and he wondered what was wrong with their teachers. He wondered why they refused to see things clearly, only seeing what they wanted to. Only seeing what was easiest for them.

Sasuke is wrenched from the memory by a sound at the door and the instant pounding of his heart. 

There is no thought in it, just instinct, just the rush of adrenaline and the kneejerk defensive response that’s so deeply ingrained in him. He glances at Atsuko, now dead asleep beside him. He glances back at the door, pulling himself to a stand. He looks around for something, anything, to defend himself with, mind blank except for that, he grabs his cane. 

His breaths come fast as he watches the door open slowly, he watches a boot step inside, a brown head of long hair, his fingers tighten around the cane. 

The person closes the door behind them and for a harrowing split second, Sasuke is sure that it’s Haku. They have long dark hair, braided behind their back and two sections cinched with metal cuffs hanging down around their face in the style customary to the Land of Water.

Finally, the person turns around and visibly starts, taking an alarmed step back as she takes Sasuke in, mouth dropping open. 

Sasuke takes a breath. Then another. It’s not Haku, her face is different. And he had watched Haku die years ago. He shakily lowers his cane and it thunks heavily on the ground as he catches his unsteady weight on it, reality sinking back in as the adrenaline ebbs. 

The visceral panic fades, only to be instantly replaced with sharp annoyance. 

“Who are you?” Sasuke demands, trying not to let the fear he had just felt show on his face.

The woman’s face indexes quickly through surprise, shock, and then something like indignation. “Who are you?” she shoots back, setting down the large buckets she’s carrying on the floor and crossing her arms. “What are you doing in Genji’s house?”

Sasuke opens his mouth, to say what exactly he’s not sure, but he’s interrupted by a soft shuffling sound and he turns to see Atsuko sitting up blearily, looking around as she rubs at her eyes. 

Atsuko looks at him, then at the woman, and she doesn’t seem alarmed, so they probably know each other. Sasuke tries his best to soften.

“What’s happening?” She asks softly, directing her question to the woman, who sighs, eyeing Sasuke suspiciously but smiling at Atsuko.

“I’m here to give your grandpa his eggs,” she hesitantly uncrosses her arms. 

“Genji isn’t here,” Sasuke replies, trying to keep his voice neutral.

The woman raises an eyebrow at him. “I can see that,” she snaps at him. “Now who the hell-”

“Is that Hikari I hear?” Genji calls out as the back door slams and there’s a small commotion before he emerges from the kitchen. “You better be here bearing eggs and milk or I’m going to have to lodge a complaint.”

Hikari rolls her eyes as Genji shuffles into the room, putting her hands on her hips as he examines the buckets and is apparently satisfied. 

“And who exactly would that complaint go to, old man?” Hikari gripes at him. “You going to walk eight miles to the next village over for your milk?”

Genji waves her off and reaches out for the buckets, only to be shooed away as Hikari pulls them out of his reach, picking them up herself. “ You aren’t supposed to be lifting heavy things, Genji, don’t think I’ve forgotten,” she says, earning herself a grumble from the man himself. “Just point and I’ll put them where you want them.”

They disappear into the kitchen, returning shortly with no buckets, but a bushel of vegetables piled high in Hikari’s arms.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Sasuke,” Genji says good naturedly as they make their way back. 

Sasuke would really like to sit back down, effort starting to make him shaky, but now he certainly can’t.

Hikari huffs a little. “You could say that,” she mumbles, hiking the vegetables a little higher in her arms. “Great company you’re keeping.”

Sasuke bristles at the implication, but keeps his mouth firmly shut, refusing to look at her. 

“Hey, now, try to be nice,” Genji chides halfheartedly. “Tell me, how are your folks? You never come around anymore, I hardly get the chance to ask.”

Hikari snorts, but softens a little. “You know damn well I come around every two weeks, just like we agreed,” she smiles exasperatedly. “But they’re good. Kenshin’s still doing daycare most days, and mom’s just- well you know how she is. She’s getting by.”

“That’s good to hear,” Genji nods before sighing heavily. “Well I need a soak in the bath. That damn farm’s really getting out of hand. I swear each year I get older, somehow those fields get bigger and bigger.”

Hikari nods, like this is a conversation they’ve had many times. “Well, hey, if you need anything you know where I am. I’ve got a younger brother I can send over anytime.”

Genji smiles warmly, putting a hand on Atsuko’s head where she’s wandered over to his leg. “You’re a good kid, Hikari.”

Hikari smiles and gives him a respectful nod, waving to Atsuko who weakly returns it before she turns to leave. On her way out she catches Sasuke’s eye, shooting him a look before she turns on her heel and leaves the same way she came. 

Unable and unwilling to unpack all that had just transpired, Sasuke lets himself collapse back onto the couch.

“Dinner?” Genji asks. 

Sasuke nods. Dinner sounds good. 

___

As August turns to September the humid summer days give way to cool mornings and the fireflies slowly start to recede. Despite the leaves on the trees still staying stubbornly green, Sasuke knows from experience it won’t be long until Fire Country starts to display the reds and oranges of its name. 

Today is slow, just Sasuke and Genji sitting together on the front porch doing menial tasks in the late afternoon, waiting for Atsuko to get back from daycare so they can start dinner. 

They don’t speak as they work, Sasuke simply cutting twine and handing it to Genji who ties together twigs for the flower garden out back in a likely-vain attempt to keep the birds out. 

It’s a rare moment where things don’t feel so solemn. Maybe it’s just working with his hands that really quiets his mind, but the usual spiral of guilt and sadness that comes with silence just doesn’t seem to come when he sits here like this. Like as long as he’s cutting twine, his mind can’t force him to consider his circumstances. He wonders if this would have worked months ago when he was on the road; maybe this is what he was trying to do with all his running. 

“Well, I think this should be enough fence to keep those stupid crows out of the flower beds,” Genji breaks the silence, holding up the contraption that he’s created and examining it. 

Sasuke nods, handing the excess cut pieces of twine over and stretching out his back. 

“Don’t see why they want the flowers, anyway,” Sasuke mutters, looking up at the crow nest in one of the tall sycamores, currently empty.

“I tell you what, they’re doing it for fun,” Genji gripes as he sets his contraption aside, narrowing his eyes at the nest. “Those crows have lived there as long as I have and I swear to you they just do it to antagonize me.”

Sasuke huffs, smiling a little at the seriousness of Genji as he talks about his standing feud with the birds.

“It’s no laughing matter, boy,” Genji snaps indignantly. “You’ll see, the second I leave, they’ll be in those flower beds.”

Sasuke doesn’t disagree, but he also doesn’t drop his amusement, too pleased to get a rise out of Genji.

Genji scoffs before he leans back on his palms. “Speaking of, I’m going into town early tomorrow morning and I need a favor.”

Sasuke glances at him, nodding for him to continue.

“I’ll be gone by the time Atsuko needs to go to daycare, so I need you to walk her instead.”

Sasuke presses his lips together and looks away, all the neutral feelings created by his earlier work swiftly being replaced by familiar dread and shame. 

It’s not that he hasn’t made progress, but it’s miniscule. It’s the difference between having to take breaks just to get across the house and being able to do it in one trip. The progress still leaves him so far behind functional that he can hardly consider it to be progress. 

“Genji-”

“It’s not that far,” Genji interrupts him. “Just down the street.”

Sasuke sighs. “You should ask someone else.”

“Why would I ask someone else when you’re right here, ready to do it?” He replies with intentional obtuseness that drives Sasuke up the wall. 

He opens his mouth to snap at him, but Genji holds up a hand. “I know you don’t feel up to it. And I haven’t pushed you so far, but it’s been two months, kid. If you don’t start pushing yourself, you’re never going to get better.”

“You think I haven’t been trying?” Sasuke bites back, sitting up straight to look at Genji. The familiar defensiveness is almost reflexive at this point, an instinct to not appear weak. 

Genji doesn’t seem at all taken aback by Sasuke’s tone, maintaining the soft expression that makes Sasuke even angrier.

“All I do is push myself, but it never gets better,” he snaps.

Genji is quiet for a beat before he sighs. “You only do things that you know you can do,” he says softly, but Sasuke still flinches. “You push yourself, but only just, like you’re afraid to mess up because you got in over your head. But, kid, you have to get in over your head sometimes to make any real progress. At this rate, how long do you think it’ll take you to get back to normal?”

Sasuke grits his teeth and looks away. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, that he’s not sure he’ll ever get back to normal. That he’s not sure he wants to. 

“I stand by what I said way back then,” Genji continues. “You’re human, and you deserve rest. But you also deserve to feel better, even if that means struggling in the process. Don’t you think it’s more important to feel good again in the future than to hide within your comfort zone now?”

As fast as the anger comes, it goes. Like his body indexed through all the space inside himself and decided that there wasn’t room for it. Still, Sasuke doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Look, I’m not saying run off into the wilderness and starve half to death,” Genji jabs lightly at him. “But walk the kid down the street, even if it’s hard. I know I don’t know you that well, but you’re a tough kid, and I am confident that you can do hard things.”

Sasuke looks out across the yard at the tall trees and the worn path all the way out to the gate. He’s done many hard things in his life, but as he thinks about them now, it feels like they’re someone else’s memories. It’s almost worrying how quickly his mind detaches from them. He can recall wielding Susanoo or reaching into someone’s mind with his Sharingan, but it’s as if he read about the experience rather than lived it himself. That power, it feels like it wasn’t him. Now, when it would be a feat to walk a single mile, he can’t remember what it felt like to be a god. 

“Think about it,” Genji says quietly, like he doesn’t want to startle Sasuke from his thoughts. “If you can do it, take her. If you can’t, she’ll just miss a day and you’ll have to reckon with the disappointment of a five year old.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, annoyed at the clear manipulation, however well intentioned it may be. 

“I’ll consider it,” he mutters, eyes flicking to the two long shadows that bob down the road, backlit by the afternoon sun. He watches Atsuko and Kenshin come into view, Atsuko wandering around the road, looking at different things while Kenshin watches with his hands in his pockets.

“Is Atsuko-” he says, before he trails off. He doesn’t know what he wants to know, or why. He doesn’t know what point there is in asking, but something in him sees the way she exists in the world, the fear and trepidation she holds in everything she does, and he wonders. “How did she-”

Genji sighs heavily, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, and something about it really shows his age, liver spots clear all over his hands and bags under his eyes. “You’re not the only one who's had it tough,” he says, sounding tired all of a sudden. “Came to me after that war, couple of years back. Don’t know what happened to her parents, but I assume it wasn’t anything good. Wouldn’t say a word for months, thought maybe she’d never start talking, but-” he shrugs and doesn’t continue, perhaps allowing Sasuke to fill in the rest. 

Atsuko and Kenshin reach the gate and Kenshin opens it for her, giving her a small wave which she returns before he nods to them on the porch and takes his leave. 

Atsuko watches him go for a moment before she starts walking down the path to the house. 

“She’s come a long way,” Genji murmurs, and Sasuke glances at him. All he sees on his face is pride and happiness as he watches her. 

Sasuke turns back to her as she walks up the steps to give Genji a big hug that he returns happily. 

After a moment, she pulls away and smiles a little at Sasuke. 

“Good day?” A simple question, not too scary to answer. 

She nods, digging around in her pockets for a moment before producing a small, green rock in the palm of her hand and presenting it to him. 

Sasuke hums, gingerly picking up the rock and examining it. He doesn’t know anything about rocks, but it looks like a rare find. “Very nice,” he says, handing it back to her. “Where’d you find it?”

Her smile spreads into something more solid, like it wouldn’t fly away with the slightest breeze. 

“At the creek,” she says softly, looking back down at the rock in her hands. “It’s pretty.”

Sasuke nods solemnly. “It is.”

He glances at Genji, just watching them with a complicated look on his face before he shakes his head and smiles. “Well, what do you say we get some dinner going, huh?” 

And they do, just like that. 

___

The next morning, hours before he usually wakes up, before the sun has even broken the horizon, only casting a watery light across the sky and pulling it from the depths of night, Sasuke is startled awake by a hand shaking his arm. 

In a panic, he scrambles to prop himself up on his elbow, blinking rapidly to try to discern what is going on until he makes out Atsuko standing by his bed and nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“What are you-” his barely awake mind cannot supply a single non-emergency reason for why she would be standing there and he reaches blindly for his eyepatch as he tries to get his mind in order. 

Atsuko looks at him ambivalently, biting nervously at her lip. “Grandpa said you were taking me today,” she whispers, like she’s trying not to alarm him further.

Sasuke blinks. On second glance, she is fully dressed, and his conversation with Genji from the previous day all comes back to him in one unfortunate wave.

He rubs at his eye for a moment, breathing deeply. He could just say they weren’t going. She’s five, there’s nothing she could do about it. But he looks at the unsure expression on her face and her carefully tied back hair and he knows he doesn’t really have a choice.

“Alright, just-” he pulls himself up, tying the eyepatch more firmly. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

Atsuko nods before turning on her heel and fleeing from the room. Sasuke sits at the edge of the bed for a long moment, staring into blank space, contemplating how he could possibly have made it to this point, before he grabs his cane and gets himself dressed. 

Atsuko’s waiting expectantly at the door in the dark house rather than sitting in the kitchen, so he follows her lead, opening it up before looking at her, a little unsure of what he’s really supposed to do. 

She looks relatively ready to go, dressed in comfortable looking cotton overalls, with her hair tied back into two little pigtails, holding onto her bear-shaped backpack that she carries around with her everywhere, but he doesn’t really know enough to say if that’s enough. He should have asked Genji for follow up information, but he clearly had not been thinking this far ahead. 

“Um,” he examines her for a moment, “do you have everything you need?” 

Atsuko gives him a tiny smile and clutches tighter at her backpack. She nods. 

Sasuke narrows his eyes at her for a moment. What do kids need for daycare? What is she even carrying in her backpack? Has she been fed?

All questions that are, at this point, too little too late. Sasuke sighs and leads the way outside, closing the door behind them.

It’s cool, this early in September. Cool enough that a smarter man would have worn a jacket, but Sasuke is clearly not that man.

The layer of dew over everything makes the porch slippery, but he makes it down to the path with no serious injury. 

It’s not until they make it to the road that it really sets in how unprepared he is for this. He leans heavily on his cane, taking deep, even breaths as they make their way down the road, but his heart pounds in his chest, giving the impression of a loose wheel on a cart, ready to fly off at any moment. 

He can feel the all too familiar dizziness and nausea coming for him, his body’s steadfast protests against this level of physical exertion, and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

He could turn back. Atsuko would be fine, she’d always have tomorrow. But he can’t, he’s already started, and something in him feels that he has something to prove. 

Sasuke’s always been useful. He’s always been skilled. Growing up as he had, he had no choice; it was that or being left behind, the value of his life always weighed in his power and utility, even before everything had happened. 

He can’t help but think, as his body aches, his heart pounds, his head spins, his legs shake, all because of walking a quarter of a mile, that if he can’t do this, what is the point of him? If he can’t pull it together enough to accomplish one miniscule task that could be thoughtlessly completed by anyone else, what is his value?

His grip tightens on his cane, clinging to it desperately as he narrows all his focus on placing one foot in front of the other, timing his steps carefully with his breaths, just to make sure he’s still breathing. 

“Sasuke,” Atsuko says quietly, and Sasuke pulls himself together enough to glance at her.

He swallows, throat dry. “Yeah?”

Atsuko doesn’t speak again for a moment, clearly debating whatever she’s about to say carefully, or maybe just trying to find the courage to speak.

“Um,” she glances away from him before looking back, “what’s wrong with your legs?”

Sasuke huffs a sharp laugh, surprised by the question, especially coming from her. He looks ahead, wishing desperately that he could wipe the sweat from his brow, but his only hand is the one thing keeping him from collapsing onto the ground.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, voice embarrassingly breathless.

Atsuko clutches the straps of her backpack, considering for a moment. “Did they get hurt when your arm got hurt?”

She’s walking just a little ahead of him, outpacing him despite being quite literally a third of his height, but at least this way he doesn’t have to keep turning to look at her. He takes a few deep breaths, desperately fending off the nausea that threatens him every time he speaks. 

“No,” he mutters, “separate events.”

“Oh,” she says, and Sasuke assumes that’ll be the end of it.

Distantly, he realizes that it’s the first time she’s ever asked him a direct question. Judging by her shyness, it probably has been something she’s been wondering about for months. 

Atsuko looks at him again before stopping in the middle of the street and holding out her palm for him to see. Sasuke grinds to a halt, half grateful to not have to keep walking, half concerned that he won’t be able to pick up the momentum again once lost. He leans heavily on his cane, glancing between her and her hand before she speaks. 

“I fell,” she offers her palm up for him to examine. 

The scar is alarmingly large, likely the kind of thing that actually needed stitches; now just a white gash right across the middle of her hand. 

“It hurt really bad,” she continues, looking at it herself. “And it took so long to feel better.” 

Sasuke swallows. She’s young, so it must have happened relatively recently for her to remember it clearly. He wants to ask how it happened, but he doesn’t.

Instead he nods shakily. “I see,” he says, shifting his weight surreptitiously, trying to ignore the shaking of his legs and the spinning of the world around him. 

“Maybe…” Atsuko retracts her hand, starting to walk again. Sasuke swallows and follows her. “Maybe you’ll feel better too.” She kicks at a pinecone in the road, pausing for a moment. “Grandpa says that soon you’ll feel better, just like I did.”

Sasuke grits his teeth. Ironic that the most he’s ever heard Atsuko talk in one sitting is her giving him the same lecture he’s so used to hearing from Genji.

But it’s not her fault, and even he wouldn’t snap at her for her childish naivete, despite the way the blind positivity that everything is just going to turn out okay irritates him. He breathes slowly, evenly, trying to cut through the horrible discomfort in his body to generate an appropriate response. 

“I hope so,” is all he can say. 

Atsuko turns around and smiles at him. Not one of the small, fragile smiles that he’s used to seeing on her face by now, but a real smile. 

He feels, for a fleeting moment, like maybe their optimism isn’t unfounded. Like for a second he can glimpse this so-called future that he’s always felt was just something meant for everyone else. The feeling comes, and just as fast it passes. 

As they reach the end of the street, Sasuke can feel his body rapidly nearing the end of its capabilities, and he almost feels relieved to see an adult standing there, at the edge of a fence, facing three kids around Atsuko’s age who are listening to her intently.

“Hi, Atsuko,” the woman calls out, and the second she speaks any relief he had felt instantly vanishes as he makes out Hikari’s face.

The feeling is evidently mutual, because the second she sees him, the smile drops off her face, settling into a scowl that Sasuke would be more offended by if he wasn’t desperately trying to keep himself vertical. 

“Hi,” Atsuko calls back, clearly unaware of the uncomfortable energy. She runs forward, and Sasuke has the presence of mind to be surprised at how easily she greets the other children.

“You’re still around, huh?” Hikari mutters at him and Sasuke grips the cane tightly. Just a few more moments, then he can go back to the house and collapse out of the view of others. He grits his teeth and doesn’t respond. 

Even if he hadn’t been on the verge of collapsing, standing in the cold at seven thirty in the morning, Sasuke would not like this conversation, but like this, it’s nearly unbearable.

“I thought Kenshin-” he finally grits out instead of responding to her question. 

“Yes, this isn’t my usual gig,” Hikari replies, in an only slightly less hostile tone. “My brother is sick today, so I’m filling in.”

Sasuke gives her a tight nod, glancing over at Atsuko who is now examining something by the fence with the other kids. Anything to avoid eye contact. He knows how he must look right now, like he’s seconds away from passing out on the ground, and he can feel the way she scrutinizes him, questions surely coming up in her mind that he prays she does not voice. 

He tries to take deep breaths through the nausea, white knuckling the poor cane so hard that if he hadn’t been so weak, it surely would have fallen apart. 

“When do I-” he swallows, throat clicking. “Do I need to come get her?”

“You don’t,” Hikari says slowly. When he looks back, her eyes are narrowed at him. “I’ll bring her by around five.” She glances back at the kids before she frowns at him. “Are you alright? You look-”

Sasuke gives her a curt nod and cuts her off. “I’ll see her at five, then,” he gets out before she can question his state further, and he turns on his heel to retreat with as much haste as his body will allow him. 

___

Sasuke stares at the ginkgo tree outside his window, leaves a rich yellow, just about ready to drop for the winter. For now, though, they flutter gently in the gray twilight of the morning. 

It’s starting to get cold, October finally bringing freezing temperatures overnight, but Sasuke still leaves his window open a crack. He likes to feel the cool air on his face when he’s wrapped up in the heavy, warm comforter, giving him the pleasant illusion of safety. 

He does this every morning; wakes up a little earlier than everyone else just to sit in the silence for a little while. Take deep breaths. Try to self regulate. 

Today, it doesn’t seem to work. As he stares out the window that old, familiar feeling of unease is inescapable, sitting in his body like it’s stained into the very fabric of him, no matter how many breaths he takes to wash it away.

It’s almost the end of October, so Naruto’s birthday has come and gone, his mind supplies senselessly. 

He wonders how he celebrated. Probably going out with his friends, getting drunk, laughing and laughing and basking in the happiness that he’s worked so hard for. 

In the thin transitional dawn between night and day, where the film between reality and fantasy seems almost transparent, Sasuke wishes he could have been there. He wishes he could have seen him smile and laugh and enjoy himself, wishes he could toast to his continued health and happiness, wishes he could have felt the warmth of him at his side.

In this absurd fantasy, he walks him home, both of them a little tipsy, but happy. He lingers at his front door, and Naruto leans on the door jamb as they talk, the warm light of his apartment spilling out into the night, and neither of them want to say goodbye.

He can almost feel the desire in his stomach like it's a physical thing, like he’s swallowed it whole and now it just sits there, too heavy to be broken down into any component parts. 

But as he lets the fantasy play out, it feels more and more unreachable. Reality becomes more tangible and the truth that he doesn’t fit into this scene becomes unavoidable. Where would he sit? How would he exist in the space next to Naruto after everything? How could the happiness be the same if he were there to complicate it? How could he stand beside Naruto as he is now, a crushed and mangled version of who he once was?

As he blinks the thoughts away, he’s left with the cold realization that as much as he misses Naruto, he abdicated his right to these feelings when he walked away almost a year ago. 

Sasuke sits up, joints stiff as ever, and stretches before he stands to get dressed. 

He doesn’t bother with his own clothes anymore, or what little is left of them. Partially because he can’t stand to look at the Uchiha fan, and partially because they fit him so loosely now that they don’t feel like they’re his.

He dresses instead in some old clothes Genji happened to have in his size. They’re more traditional than he would normally go for, a samue with cotton trousers and a loose cross-over tunic that ties at the side. The olive green fabric is soft, likely after years of wear and use on the farm, and it fits him well. Even if it’s just a little too big, it feels less alienating than if it were his own clothes that didn’t fit him anymore like a stark reminder that it’s him that has changed.

Sasuke makes his way out of his room, cane in hand, going about his normal morning routine; starting hot water for tea, opening the blinds, rinsing his face in the kitchen sink because he can’t be bothered to walk all the way to the bathroom.

He looks out the kitchen window at the backyard, dawn just barely starting to melt into day. He doesn’t really need to be up this early since it’s Sunday and Atsuko doesn’t need to go to daycare, but by now he’s used to the routine. 

He gets up early, he feeds Atsuko, and they head out. That’s how it goes every day. 

It shocked him, at first, how self-sufficient she was. She knows what she needs for the day, and she gets it together herself, and something about that makes Sasuke feel a little sick when he thinks about it too hard. 

It makes him remember watching Naruto during lunch at the academy, sitting all by himself just like Sasuke, taking out some of the weirdest food combinations Sasuke had ever seen in his life, like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to eat, only knowing that he had to eat something. Sasuke had looked at his own lunch, a poor imitation of what he used to have packed for him by his parents or Itachi, and he wondered if Naruto never had someone to imitate. 

He made a point of asking Atsuko if she needed lunch to be packed for her, distraught over the idea of her suffering Naruto’s same fate despite having two perfectly capable adults in her life that could make her something, but she informs him that Kenshin makes them lunch, and he feels better. 

Today, though, Atsuko won’t be up for hours. So he makes himself some tea and spends his time reading. 

By the time afternoon rolls around, it’s warmer outside and he finds himself on the front porch, watching Atsuko wander around in the yard. The sun is still high in the sky, but it’s on its downward descent, afternoon shadows growing longer by the hour. 

He watches Atsuko crouched in the grass, picking up the huge fallen sycamore leaves, examining them carefully, and either discarding them or placing them in the rather large stack she has held in her hand.

He sighs, reaching for the calligraphy set that he had dug out after four months of not being able to even look at it, but he thinks maybe this scene is worth drawing for Naruto. 

He flattens the paper on the old wood of the porch and grinds the inkstone with a little water, smoothing out the bristles to make sure none of them are getting bent, but as he looks at the blank page, he can’t bring himself to put anything on it. Sending this with no explanation would be ridiculous, and yet, he has no explanation to offer. 

He sets the brush back down in its holder sullenly. 

Sometimes, he thinks about how far he’s fallen; far enough that he can’t really fall any further. Any glory or value that he ever had has been wiped from his slate at this point, but there’s a freedom in that. A freedom in the knowledge that he has no more pride to be beholden to anymore, no reputation. Now he’s just Sasuke. And while there’s shame in that, everyone who would be ashamed of him has long since died, so perhaps all that’s really left is relief. 

And yet, he thinks of Naruto. He thinks of his power, his prestige, how far he’s come and how hard he’s worked to attain all he has, and he can’t imagine himself beside him anymore. At one point, even when at odds, they were this matched set, this formidable duo that transcended nearly everything that could be transcended. But now, what does Sasuke have to offer? What place could there be for him, now that he’s nothing and no one, what point is there to sending these letters? He wonders if perhaps it is time to truly let go of the foolish notion that there’s anything left to maintain.

“What’s that?” comes Atsuko’s voice from his side as she sits beside him, drinking from her glass of water that she’d left for him to watch. 

Sasuke shakes himself from his thoughts, and moves over so she can see. 

“It’s a calligraphy set,” he answers. 

“Calligraphy?”

Sasuke hums, “It’s- it’s like a fancy way of writing. Where the ink is like paint and you use a brush,” he explains, picking up the beautiful and yet-not used brush. “You can also just use it to draw.”

Atsuko nods, eyes widening as she looks over the admittedly very beautiful set. 

“Why’s the paper like that?” She asks, running her fingers over the rough texture of it.

Sasuke shrugs, “I think so the ink doesn’t run. It’s special rice paper.”

Atsuko leans over the set to examine it and Sasuke hesitates for a moment before speaking. 

“Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you want to try it?”

Atsuko looks at him and smiles, sitting back and nodding vigorously.

Sasuke can’t help but smile a little himself as he adjusts the set so it’s sitting between the two of them.

“The ink is special,” he picks up the ink stone and begins to grind it. “It comes from this stone, and you have to grind it to make it usable. Here-” he hands it to her and motions for her to try. 

Atsuko stares, rapt, as she clumsily circulates the stone until it becomes ink.

“Good job,” he says, “now you can dip the brush in it like paint.”

He hands her the brush. It’s a little cumbersome in her small hands, but she still manages to hold it.

“Just make sure not to crush the bristles. Always have them going in the same direction.”

Atsuko nods and looks at him. Sasuke nods towards the paper and she presses her lips together and begins. 

She’s clumsy with it at first, but she persists, and Sasuke lets her use as many pieces of paper as she wants, adjusting her hold on the brush when she needs it. After about twenty minutes she’s drawing as naturally as she would with any other medium and Sasuke can just sit back and watch. 

“You like drawing?” He breaks the silence after a while. 

Atsuko looks up, like she’s a little surprised that he asked her a question, but after a moment nods.

“It’s my favorite,” she beams at him.

“I like it, too,” Sasuke agrees, and Atsuko’s eyes widen.

“You can draw?” Her eyes widen, like he’d just revealed some great power to her. 

Sasuke nods and she immediately hands him the brush. “Can you draw me something?”

Sasuke’s eyebrows raise and he pauses only a moment before gingerly taking the brush from her.

“Like what?”

Atsuko considers for a minute, stroking her chin like Genji does with his beard. “An animal?”

Sasuke dips the brush in the ink and pauses for a long moment before starting to draw a fox. Atsuko watches, completely absorbed, until he finishes and turns the paper towards her. 

To Sasuke’s complete and utter surprise, Atsuko bounces up and down where she’s sitting, letting out a giggle as she looks at the drawing. 

“That’s good!” Sasuke can’t even conjure up a response, too shocked to see this kid who is usually so reserved, like she’s trying to go through life completely unseen, giggling because of something he did. 

He can feel his mouth drop open at her reaction, but he can’t find it in himself to try to mask his surprise. He feels something shift, like the weight and pressure that had been hanging over him all day was finally evaporating, making him see clearly. The constant shadow of uselessness that he had been feeling starts to break apart, just a little, and he thinks that maybe he isn’t without use. Maybe his life isn’t without meaning. Because if he can make someone happy like that, maybe his value isn’t completely lost. 

He’s so surprised and absorbed in his own crisis that he doesn’t even notice the third presence until it’s already upon him and a thunking sound breaks him from his thoughts

Sasuke snaps his head up only to see Hikari standing at the bottom of the porch steps, having just set down her buckets of goods, now looking at the two of them with an unreadable expression on her face. 

Sasuke opens his mouth, but promptly finds that he actually has nothing to say and he shuts it again. 

“Drawing, are we?” Hikari’s voice is unusually free of barbs as she leans on the porch railing. 

“Sasuke showed me his painting kit,” Atsuko informs Hikari, pulling the piece of paper out from underneath the ceramic weights hard enough that Sasuke has to catch them from falling before Atsuko brandishes the painting at Hikari.

Hikari glances at Sasuke for a second, like she isn’t quite sure what to make of the whole thing, before she leans forward to examine the drawing. 

“Excellent work as always,” Hikari smiles warmly at Atsuko. “Did you do all of this yourself?”

Atsuko shakes her head before looking at Sasuke. “Sasuke helped,” she says, “and he told me how to hold the brush so it doesn’t break.”

“Did he, now,” Hikari raises an eyebrow at Sasuke, but there isn’t the usual venom in her voice that Sasuke had become accustomed to. “That’s nice of him.”

Atsuko smiles and sits back down, laying the paper as flat as she can get it without the paperweights, before Hikari pushes off the bannister.

“Well, I’ve got Genji’s stuff. Atsuko, would you mind finding him for me so I know where he wants this?” She nods towards the buckets.

Atsuko stands and gives her a respectful nod before she disappears back into the house.

Sasuke busies himself with putting away the rest of the kit, not particularly thrilled about being left alone with Hikari and her disdain, but too proud to slink away like he wants to. 

“So,” she breaks the silence. He looks up at her begrudgingly as she crosses her arms, eyes narrowed. “Did Genji give you those clothes?”

Sasuke cocks his head, caught off guard by the odd question, before looking down at what he’s wearing. He looks back up at her with a frown. “He did.”

Hikari presses her lips together like she wants to ask something else, but instead she switches gears. 

“You’re here to stay, then?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes, thrown by the disjointed conversation, before nodding at his cane. 

“Wouldn’t get far even if I wanted to,” he mumbles, putting the paperweights back into their silk slots. 

Hikari huffs, something laugh-adjacent. “Right, but-” she trails off and he glances back at her, before following her eye back towards the house where Genji and Atsuko are. “You’re not just-”

“I’m not going to rob them blind if that’s what you’re concerned about.” 

Hikari sniffs, shuffling on her feet and looking a little like she’s been caught. “Well you did just show up out of nowhere,” she defends herself. “I walk in one day and there’s just some man living on Genji’s couch, what am I supposed to think?”

Sasuke doesn’t point out that he’d been so messed up at that point that he’d topple over if the breeze blew him the wrong way. Not exactly the fitness level of a high-stakes robber.

“But now you’re,” she gestures vaguely to where he’s sitting with the kit in his lap, “I don’t know. Walking Atsuko to daycare and letting her use your weird, fancy drawing kit.”

Sasuke looks at her, at a complete loss for where this is going, still unclear if this is even a positive or negative conversation. 

Hikari sighs, glancing into the house where Sasuke can hear voices slowly coming closer. “Look, they’re good people. And if I find out you have some- I don’t know, ulterior motive for being here, I’ll make sure you regret it. Yeah?”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at the blatant threat, almost impressed at the casual way she says it. As he looks at her, he believes her.

Chapter Text

As November rolls around, the cold really starts to set in. Sasuke can feel it in the aching joints of his hand and his knees, and the familiar uncomfortable tightness of the scars around his stump that agitate him more than usual. 

He thinks of this time last year, when he left the village. It doesn’t feel like it’s been a year. It feels more like a lifetime since then. It’s dizzying to think about it, so he doesn’t, instead dragging himself out of bed, pulling on a sweater and tying up his hair before making his way out to the kitchen. 

Sasuke leans his cane against the counter, out of the way as he puts the kettle on the stove and shuffles over to the thermostat to turn up the temperature, listening to the sound of the trusty gas heater sputtering to life somewhere in the rafters as he goes back to the kitchen to measure and rinse rice before putting it in the cooker and flicking it on.

He peers into the fridge and takes out a couple of eggs for frying, setting them on the counter before turning the dial and waiting for the click click click of the stove as it comes to life.

“Morning,” mutters Genji as he shuffles in, patting Sasuke’s shoulder as he slides by him.

Sasuke makes an acknowledging sound as he cracks the first egg into the pan with a hiss of oil. He’s learned a lot about cooking in his time here so far, but this at least he knew already; perfect technique to get the edges crispy while leaving the yolk rich and runny drilled into him by Itachi when they were kids. 

“Damn,” Genji says from somewhere behind Sasuke. “Forgot to get that washer for the leaky sink from Hikari last time she was here. Can you ask her for it at the market?”

Sasuke nods, glancing back at Genji where he’s taking the kettle off the stove before it can whistle, methodically pouring the steaming water into the pot for tea. “Is the basket all ready to go?”

“Sure is,” says Genji. “Stocked it last night. I’m getting too damn old to harvest all those vegetables, my back is killing me. Going to have to start making you do it.”

Sasuke huffs, carefully scraping his spatula around the edges of the egg before flipping it. Genji had tried valiantly to get Sasuke into gardening over the past few months with little luck, seeing as he has whatever the opposite of a green thumb is. After a couple of times, Genji had shoed him away, telling him to stay away from the vegetables lest he kill them all. 

“I appreciate you helping out with this again,” Genji tone settles into something more earnest. “Don’t know what’s the matter with me lately, just not feeling quite right.”

Sasuke cracks a second egg into the pan, unease creeping over him. He shrugs it off. 

“It’s no trouble,” he replies quietly. 

It’s not no trouble, Sasuke thinks privately, but it’s manageable. Over the past few months, walking, albeit at a painfully slow pace, has become something he can confidently handle as long as he has the cane. The added weight of the basket of vegetables certainly doesn’t make it easier, but he’s done it a few times before and survived. 

“Atsuko, are you up?” calls Genji as Sasuke watches the second egg sizzle in the oil, letting his eyes unfocus for a moment, still exhausted. 

Atsuko wanders out of her room, dark hair a mess as it usually is, eyes sleepy. They have to get up extra early on Saturdays to go to the market in order to set up the vegetable stall, and the heavy look on her face makes it evident how she feels about being awake at this hour. He can’t say he disagrees. 

In a half-awake haze, she slides into a chair at the table and Sasuke wordlessly scoops her some fresh rice into a bowl, tops it with a fried egg, and places it in front of her. 

He watches her for a second as she picks up chopsticks and begins to sleepily shovel the food into her mouth, eyes blinking slow and heavy. 

He smiles softly and turns back to the pan to fix a serving for Genji.

“You should really eat something yourself, kid. The day shouldn’t be faced on an empty stomach,” admonishes Genji, pouring Sasuke a cup of tea and sliding it over to him. 

Sasuke waves him off, sipping the fresh, fragrant tea. He’s never been a breakfast person, even when he was a kid. Kakashi and Naruto used to always get on his case about it, he remembers, and it aches a little to hear it from Genji now. 

Once breakfast has been had, Atsuko stands in front of him, holding out her empty bowl, as she shrugs on her beloved bear backpack. 

“Is that jacket going to be warm enough?” he asks, putting the bowl in the sink and grabbing a small bag of lunch for them out of the fridge.

Atsuko confidently nods, and Sasuke takes her word for it, grabbing his cane and shrugging on his own jacket- or, rather, Genji’s, and they head out into the cold early morning. 

It’s a twenty five minute walk to the village proper. If it had been the Sasuke of a year ago, he could probably have made it in ten, but it’s slow going, and he tries not to think about it too much. 

Atsuko doesn’t seem to mind. She flits around him, skipping ahead and coming back in a sort of disorganized orbit with him at the center. 

Sasuke marvels at how much she’s come out of her shell just in the past couple of months. She’s still not a boisterous kid, but she seems almost normal, like there isn’t some dark past hanging over her head.

She plays and talks the whole way there, picking up different red and orange leaves by the side of the road, dropped by the oaks that line the path, asking him questions, providing a stream of consciousness that only a five year old could provide, and he can’t say he minds it at all. 

As they start to reach the edges of town, she simmers down. Like a light switched off, her relaxed, playful attitude is knocked right back to the reserved fearful energy that she used to carry around Sasuke constantly.

The further they get into the crowds where the market is, the worse it gets. She stays right by his side, clutching at the straps of her backpack hard enough that her knuckles are white.

As Sasuke glances at her, he has the urge to reach out, or call her name. Offer some sort of comfort for the stress it clearly puts on her to be here, but it’s too loud for her to hear him without causing a scene, and he’s only got the one hand. 

Once they find their spot and get set up, taking their seats behind the counter of the stall, it doesn’t improve. She sits silently beside him looking uneasily out at the crowd of merchants and customers, mouth in a tight, thin line.

Sasuke’s only done this with her a couple of times before this, but he knows she’s been doing it with Genji forever. Still, there seems to be next to no desensitization to take the edge off, no matter how many times it goes off without a hitch. 

Sasuke looks at her for a long moment, debating on what he should do. He could just leave it, but she looks so uncomfortable, like the slightest thing would make her fall to pieces. 

He sighs. 

“Atsuko,” he says, and she jerks to look at him before her eyes slide back over to the crowd. “You alright?”

Atsuko nods sharply, but her hands clutch tight into the hem of her shirt as she looks stubbornly out towards the people walking around them. They mostly leave them alone, setting up their own stations and paying them no mind. 

“Don’t like crowds?” He tries again. 

Atsuko’s pout grows further, neither a confirmation nor a denial, but Sasuke takes a leap of faith. 

“I don’t like crowds either.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Atsuko turns to look at him.

“Really?” 

“Really,” he says. “Make me feel nervous.” 

“Why?” She turns in her chair to look at him more fully. 

Sasuke glances at her and presses his lips together, rubbing his forefinger against his thumb. The truth is complex; feelings of being trapped, of judgment, of danger, of being dangerous. None really the right answer for a little kid. All indicative of a can of worms that would be useless to try to open here in this situation. 

“I don’t like being around a lot of people at once,” he settles on, before realizing that’s just a description of the situation, not an actual answer to her question. “It makes me feel…anxious.”

Atsuko tilts her head to the side in clear confusion

“Being nervous. Feeling scared,” he clarifies, mindlessly rearranging some of the carrots just for something to do with his hands. “Do you feel like that?” 

Atsuko sits quietly for a second before she nods. 

Sasuke hums, sitting back again to look at her. “What are you nervous about?” 

“Getting lost,” she says instantly. “There’s too many people. What if we get separated?” 

Sasuke thinks of his conversation with Genji a couple of months back. You’re not the only one who's had it rough, he’d said. 

“I understand,” he replies, softer than he expects from himself. 

Sasuke was an anxious kid, even before the massacre. His dad used to get so angry at him about it, there’s no reason to be scared of every little thing, Sasuke, what’s wrong with you?

And honestly, his mom wasn’t much better. She wouldn’t yell at him but she never understood. That won’t happen, she’d assure him. That’s not something you need to worry about.

It only made it worse; it showed him that since he was the only one scared, he was responsible for everyone else who didn’t understand, like being the lone watchman, staring out at the impending collision course while everyone else was happily blindfolded. 

Sasuke takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He doesn’t really have empty comfort to offer her, and he sure as hell isn’t going to scold her for her fear, but he has to say something. 

“How about this,” he starts, making sure to catch her eye. “When we walk through crowds, just hold onto my shirt,” he nods at her hands. “That way, we won’t get separated.” 

Atsuko blinks down at her hands before looking back at Sasuke. He’s not sure what calculation she’s doing in her head but after a long moment it seems to be completed and she nods at him. The anxiety in her face isn’t gone, but she seems to take some sort of comfort in having a concrete plan, and he considers that a victory.

Soon, patrons start milling about; coming up to the stall and buying vegetables, trying to engage Sasuke in polite small talk. 

It’s clear that some of the villagers have begun to recognize him. Maybe word travels fast about the stranger in Genji’s house, or maybe it’s just a small enough village that one new face is memorable. Regardless, it puts him on edge: teetering precariously between the discomfort of being looked at and the affirmation of being acknowledged. 

When they call him by his name and ask after Genji and hand him coins for their produce with warm smiles he feels undeniably human. And as foreign as it is, the state offers him a kind of rightness that he’s felt so few times before that at first he couldn’t recognize it. 

“Well if it isn’t Sasuke and Atsuko, my two favorite vegetable peddlers,” comes a warm voice from beside them, startling him from his own melodrama. Sasuke turns towards the voice and sees Hikari walking up to them, big smile on her face and arms full of various goods. 

Sasuke has come to expect this after the first few times at the market, and it seems that despite their rocky start and Hikari’s very real threats, they have settled into something of an understanding. Hikari is nice to them and brings them baked goods on Saturdays, but she still looks at Sasuke sometimes like she’s waiting for him to pull out a knife.

Atsuko actually smiles, having been successfully won over by the sweets long ago, and Sasuke can’t blame her; they’re damn good. 

“Hikari,” Sasuke nods. “Genji wanted me to ask you for-“ 

Before he can finish, she pulls out a small bag with the sink part in it, raising an eyebrow. “That old man is getting more forgetful by the day,” she gripes, handing it to Sasuke. “You tell him to come get me if he has trouble. Don’t want him breaking that sink worse just cause he can’t ask for help.”

Sasuke nods, tucking the bag away safely. “I’ll pass that along.”

“What do you have today?” Atsuko pipes up, looking a little less timid than she was not five minutes ago, standing up on the chair to peer into the basket. Sasuke stabilizes the back of the chair with his arm. 

“Well, I’m not sure what you mean, Atsuko,” Hikari says with mock confusion, setting her basket down on their little counter.

“Maybe…sweets?” Atsuko says, leaning precariously enough forward that Sasuke’s afraid she’ll topple right over, but he doesn’t stop her. 

Hikari gasps, “Sweets! Outrageous!” She puts her hands on her hips and turns to Sasuke. “Can you believe this?” 

Sasuke’s eyes widen, unsure of what to say, just looking at her and Atsuko’s expectant expressions. “I…can’t.” 

Hikari’s eyebrows raise for a second before she bursts into laughter. 

Atsuko looks between the two of them, obviously bewildered, but thoroughly entertained. Hikari laughs and wipes away tears; “You two are too funny,” she sighs before turning around and pulling out a bag to give to Atsuko. 

Atsuko’s face lights up as she looks at the contents. “Red bean pancakes!” She cries, looking up at Hikari with a smile before surprising everyone and hugging her. Hikari laughs and pats her back, glancing at Sasuke over her shoulder with amusement. 

“Thank you,” says Sasuke.

“It’s no trouble.” 

As the sun begins to sink in the afternoon, lengthening the shadows and staining the world golden orange, they head home.

They’re both tired from the long day, but there’s sort of a sated energy around them as they walk down the dirt road back home. Sasuke carries the mostly-empty basket on his back and Atsuko clings to the hem of his shirt as they walk, not bothering to let go after they made their way out of the crowd earlier.

He doesn’t mind. He lets the constant weight of her hand on his tunic hold him steady, much in the same way it seems to be working for her, and something in him feels honored that he’s made it this far. 

And as they walk down the path back to Genji’s, where the house is warm and the smell of dinner is sure to soften it further, sore and tired from the long day, he finds it hard to remember when the isolation ever felt this safe.

He wonders, since suffering is inevitable, if it was never about safety at all, but rather was about control.

___

In January, Sasuke starts to take walks. 

It’s a bad time of year for it; a dusting of snow covering the roads and pastures more often than not. He gets up before dawn, when it’s still dark out, the only light coming from the pale sky and the lit windows of those unlucky few that have to be up at this hour for their work in the fields, and heads out into the cold dawn without preamble.

He likes it, feeling like he’s the only one alive for just a little while. He takes his cane and puts on Genji’s heavy winter coat and he just wanders, a simple observer of the world around him with no observation turned on him in return. 

It reminds him sometimes of his days on the road; the directionlessness of it, just making his way down roads he doesn’t know, across the frosty fences around pastures he’s not familiar with. But in the end, he always finds himself back at Genji’s, just in time to make breakfast. 

But for those few hours before then, he lets his mind wander. 

Today, there’s no snow, but it’s cold enough that he can see his own breath coming out in puffs as he makes his way along the fence of what appears to be an enormous cow pasture. 

He looks out across the field, shimmering a little with untouched frost across the grass. 

He finds his mind predictable, these days, as the field morphs into one of his youth before his eyes. He remembers Itachi in the tall grass, just tall enough to brush against the tip of his sword where it hung on his back. 

“No, it’s this hand sign,” Itachi scolded him, manually adjusting his fingers before demonstrating again. “Then you take a big breath, focus your chakra, and let it all out at once.”

Itachi did so, taking a deep breath and turning away from Sasuke to blow fire through his fingers in a blinding display, the fire singing the tips of the golden grass.

Sasuke pouted, dropping his hand. “It’ll never be as good as that.”

“Come on,” Itachi nudged him and picked his hand back up, molding the fingers again. “You want dad to be proud, right? Then you have to learn it.”

“I can already do it,” Sasuke snapped, tugging his hand away. He didn’t want to train anymore; he just wanted to spend time with Itachi. He wanted to play hide and seek or do trick shuriken throws. Anything but this. 

“Not well enough,” Itachi admonished before roughly grabbing his hand. “Try again.”

That was always the thing, wasn’t it? Good, but not good enough . Talented, but not talented enough . Loved, but just not quite enough. 

Growing up, violence and utility had been the currency for everything. If he wanted to spend time with his brother, the only way to do so was if they were training. The only way to get his dad to look at him was if he was demonstrating the ways in which he could benefit their clan. The only way to really feel loved was to feel valuable, loved like someone loves a bow and arrow that shoots straight every time. 

He thinks that maybe, somewhere under it all, there was really love. In the way Itachi spent hours training him so their dad would feel proud of him, because he knew that was the only way. In the way mom would tell him stories, and brush his hair free of tangles. The way dad worried about him, terrified that something would happen to Sasuke, determined to make him strong enough that he could handle it. 

To say it wasn’t love would be utterly untrue. If love was care, protectiveness, the desire to make one happy, of course it was love. But it was so often hidden, or placed in such a way that it felt like a snare, ready to catch him and hold him down, that it was hard to see it for what it was. 

Sasuke walks down the worn path beside the fence, grass unable to ever really grow back with use. He lets the thoughts pass, breathing through them like one would breathe through a needle stitching them back together; a pain that is unavoidable but ultimately impermanent. 

As he walks back out towards the road, the sun slowly begins to peek over the horizon, warming the day just enough to melt off the frosty tips of the grass but not enough to soften the ground beneath his feet. 

Before Sasuke can make it all the way back out to the main road, he catches sight of someone at the gate of the pasture, surrounded by all of the cows that he hadn’t seen in the fields, likely all up here waiting to get their breakfast. 

It only takes him a few more strides to recognize the long braid and traditional Water Country garb.

Hikari glances up at him, doing a double take before she waves at him. 

“Sasuke,” she calls out, far too cheerful for this hour, “what are you doing here?”

Sasuke half heartedly lifts a shoulder as he comes to a stop beside the gate. “Just taking a walk,” he answers as the cows examine him carefully. 

“A bit early for that, don’t you think?” She chuckles, pouring the last of the feed into the trough and tossing the bucket outside of the pasture before ducking through the rungs in the fence herself. 

Sasuke looks at the cows, the fence, the smell of the feed, and the sense memory of the farm floods in, and with it, a deep pang of regret that he physically shakes off before looking back at Hikari. 

She’s looking at him like she can see right through him; like she read every thought he just had. Mercifully, she doesn’t call him on it. 

“Just good to clear my head,” Sasuke replies, noncommittal. 

“I imagine so,” she raises an eyebrow, leaning an arm across the top of the fence. 

Sasuke presses his lips together and looks at the cows. Most of them are eating but one of the smaller ones that can’t quite shoulder its way to the feed takes an interest in him, nuzzling at his trousers. 

“Here,” Hisoki chuckled, taking his hand and putting some feed in his palm. “Hold it out flat. Keep your thumb out of the way.”

Sasuke gave him a look, but he followed the instructions anyway, holding his hand out to Kiku, tense, ready to pull away at any moment. 

“Just relax,” Hisoki gently held Sasuke’s wrist so he couldn’t pull away so fast, using his thumb to open his palm further. It felt horribly intimate, but Sasuke allowed it.

Sure enough, Kiku sniffed his hand before using her nose to pick up the feed. After a few moments, once she was done, she nuzzled his hand softly. At first, she was just looking for more food, but then, it seemed just out of curiosity. 

Hisoki turned his hand over and guided it to start petting her soft, wide forehead before letting go. 

“They can tell if you’re tense, but once you relax, they can relax too,” Hisoki informed him. “You wouldn’t think that an ox would like pets, but she’s really the same as everyone else.”

Sasuke blinks himself out of his thoughts as Hikari chuckles a little. 

“Seems like your walks aren’t too effective for the whole ‘clearing your head’ thing, huh?”

He glances at her, not even bothering to deny it and she waves him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll mind my own business,” she assures him. “Everybody’s got stuff. Plus, someone shows up out of nowhere after the war with a missing arm, I don’t need to be a genius to put the pieces together.”

Sasuke can’t help but be a little taken aback at her straightforwardness. It’s the second time someone has mentioned the war, despite this being, by all accounts, an entirely civilian village, and Sasuke wonders about it. He’s not stupid either; someone in Fire Country that still wears the customary clothing of the Mist Village, it’s unusual. He can tell there’s a story there, but just like Hikari, he’s not interested in prying into the business of other’s. 

“Relax, I’m not going to interrogate you,” Hikari chuckles, leaning down to pick up the bucket. “How’s Atsuko? She like those egg tarts from last week?”

Sasuke breathes out slowly, working hard to unfreeze before he responds. “She did,” he nods. “She’s good. Happy, I think.”

Hikari’s face softens a little and she smiles. “Happy’s good. I think she likes having you around.”

Sasuke looks away for a moment back at the cows just to avoid eye contact, completely unsure of how to respond to that. She does seem happy, for the most part. Better than before, more relaxed. But he still wonders-

“About Atsuko-” he starts before he realizes he doesn’t know what to ask, other than tell me everything. “Do you know anything about her history?”

Hikari sighs, shrugging a little. “Not really. None of us do. Genji didn’t give you a straight answer?”

“He said she came to him after the war. That they aren’t biologically related. That’s all.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I got out of him, too,” Hikari says, leaning her arms on the fence to look at the cows. “Genji’s life has been…complicated. I didn’t want to push him on it, but all I really know is that she came into his life and he’d die before letting her live as an orphan.”

Sasuke hums.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I guess.”

“I love Genji,” Hikari sighs. “I’ve known him as long as I can remember, he’s a wonderful person. But adopting a kid at eighty-three, I mean-” she shakes her head. “I don’t know. It’s a lot. Sometimes I think he’s in over his head. She should be in school, or something, but it’s just…” she trails off.

Sasuke had wondered the same thing. He’d even brought it up one day. She should be in school, Genji had admitted. But I’m old, and I have the farm, and I haven’t taught her as much as I should have. Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep her fed and bathed . 

Sasuke thinks about Atsuko. She’s a bright kid. Through all her anxieties, she’s still so curious and excited to learn new things. She pays attention. He thinks she’d do well in school, if she ever got the chance to go. 

He hesitates, feeling frozen for a long moment. He feels that he’s at a crossroads; down one path is the path of detachment, where he gets to be alone, beholden to no one and nothing. Down the other, is connection. Something he’s felt, all his life, to be akin to playing with fire. But as he thinks about Atsuko, he knows the fork in the road is really an illusion, the free will to choose not to attach himself already far behind him. 

“If I wanted to,” he swallows, “where could I find books? For kids learning to read.”

Hikari’s eyebrows shoot up almost comically high before a surprised smile graces her face. She doesn’t respond right away, just staring at him until she shakes herself out of it. 

“There’s an old bookstore, down by where the market usually is. Think you should be able to find what you’re looking for there. Tell Koyuki that I sent you, she’s a friend of my mom’s.”

Sasuke nods, not knowing what else to say.

Hikari gives him an odd smile before she pushes off the fence and says “Good luck.”

It’s not difficult to find the shop, nestled between two much taller buildings in a narrow little slot with a hand painted sign on the outside that reads “Koyuki Books and Goods”. 

Sasuke pushes open the rickety door, jumping a little as it rings the bell at the top.  Almost instantly, a middle aged woman pops up from behind one of the ceiling-height bookshelves, pushing a set of stereotypically librarian glasses up on her face. 

“Welcome, welcome,” she calls out with a wave, nearly toppling over the stack of books she’s holding precariously in her arms. “Whoops! Give me a second, I’ll be right with you.”

Sasuke almost calls back that she doesn’t need to worry and he can find his things on his own, but as he looks around the shop, stacked floor-to-ceiling with books and various trinkets with no evident organizational system in place, he realizes that this may not be accurate. 

The shop itself is narrow, but it goes back far, a maze of shelves that quickly obscures the visibility of itself. He steps in a little further, pulling off his hat in the warmth of the shop and propping his cane against a shelf for a moment as he re-ties his hair, pulling the fly aways from his eyepatch as he looks around. 

“Ah, there we go,” Koyuki, presumably, sighs, coming back out from the maze empty handed and smiling at him. “Now, what can I do you for?”

Sasuke clears his throat, picking his cane back up. “I’m a…friend of Hikari’s,” he gets out stiltedly. “She suggested I come here for kid’s books.”

Koyuki smiles. “Ah, Hikari. Well, any friend of hers is a friend of mine,” she pushes up her glasses. “What kind of kid’s books?”

“Any,” he replies, feeling like the question is about more than the books. “For young kids. Around five. Something to help with learning to read.”

Koyuki’s eyebrows raise as understanding passes over her face. “I see,” she glances around the shop before gesturing for him to follow her, “I think I’ve got some things that’ll help you out.”

Sasuke follows her back into the maze. The shop isn’t as well lit back here, and the further in they go the more disorganized the books are, but Koyuki seems to know exactly where she’s going.

They stop at a shelf, and she picks out a couple of things. “Looks like I’ve got some stories, and-” she squats down before grabbing a couple of books from the bottom shelf. “Ah! This is what I was looking for- some workbooks! For reading and writing. I’ve got a couple different levels.”

Sasuke nods gratefully and takes the books she hands to him. 

Koyuki stands and dusts her hands on her pants. “That Atsuko, she’s smart,” she says, and Sasuke snaps up to look at her. “She’ll get through those in no time, and when she does, you just come back here and I’ll give you some more, alright?”

Sasuke’s eyes widen and he stills, unsure how to respond to the information that she knows about Atsuko. 

“Oh, come now,” Koyuki smiles, patting his shoulder placatingly. “You aren’t exactly inconspicuous. Everyone’s happy to see Genji and Atsuko get some extra support, I’m happy to help. Anyway, you look around, and come up to the front when you’re done, okay?”

Sasuke nods dumbly as Koyuki takes the books from his hand to take with her and Sasuke watches her turn heel and go. 

He’s left in the dimly lit maze, a little dumbstruck, but he does one last cursory glance at the kid’s books. Seeing nothing else, he starts to make his way back to the front, gazing over all the shelves as he passes by.

Sasuke had loved reading when he was young. He’d climb up into the old smooth branches of the sycamore outside the Uchiha compound and hide among the leaves. He was never the master of stealth like he thought he was, members of his clan passing under him and waving up at him or asking him what he was reading, but it didn’t matter. 

He was a lonely kid. The books were old friends to him. They were something that were really his. The training he did for his parents, for his clan, for Itachi. The books, though, those he loved for himself. 

Sasuke pauses at a section that looks like it could loosely be defined as folklore. Different myths and accounts of lore from across Fire Country, and even some of the other nations all stacked one after the other.

Sasuke thinks of his mother, the stories she used to tell him, and he thoughtlessly picks up a few to take with him. 

By the time he reaches the front counter, he’s got a stack going, and Koyuki gives him a look that makes him think she knew exactly what he’d do if she left him to his own devices. She looks far too pleased about it, and Sasuke doesn’t say a word, just placing them on the counter. 

“You know it’s nice of you to take her under your wing like this,” Koyuki says as she starts to scan the books. “It really does take a village to raise a daughter, you know? I’m happy to see it.”

“Ah, I’m not-” Sasuke trails off, realizing halfway through his denial that he’s not even really sure if he believes himself. Not sure exactly what he’s trying to deny. Not taking care of her? Not invested in her future? Not helping to raise her? He finds that he’s not sure he can really say those things confidently.

“No?” Koyuki raises an eyebrow before glancing down at the large stack of children’s books. Sasuke presses his lips together, having no retort. 

Koyuki smiles knowingly at him as she finishes scanning, putting all the books into a large bag and pushing it over to him.

“What do I owe you?” He asks, reaching for his coin purse. 

“Ah, nothing, nothing,” Koyuki says, reaching out a hand to stop him. “On the house.”

Sasuke opens his mouth to protest, but Koyuki shakes her head.

“Like I said, it takes a village,” she smiles softly, putting her hands in her pockets. “You just take care of her, okay?”

Sasuke looks at her for a long moment, and he realizes he’s seeing something unconditional. He’s seeing love given for free, to someone this woman hardly knows. 

He’s seeing love given just to give it. Because it’s right. Because it’s the kind thing to do, and for a second it feels like he’s witnessing something holy. He feels like, for just a moment, he’s seeing something true, like everything else, all the evil and the hatred, it’s illusory, and this is what’s real. 

But he doesn’t hold onto it. He lets the moment pass before clearing his throat and saying, honestly, “thank you.”

___

As late April brings warmer weather, Sasuke and Atsuko find themselves sitting on the wide steps of the porch after dinner nearly every night. 

They finish their food and Atsuko darts to her room, coming back out triumphantly with one of her little workbooks, edges worn down from daily use, brandishing it at Sasuke until he sighs and wanders away to get out the calligraphy set where it lives on the coffee table, half Atsuko’s at this point. 

The porch isn’t the most comfortable place to sit, but there’s something peaceful about it. The mild breeze across the tall grass, moving it in currents, making it hiss almost like the tide against the sand. Like they’re sitting on a dock by the side of the ocean instead of in rural Fire Country, as landlocked as can be. 

The air itself is clean and fresh, carrying that green scent of new growth and cut grass, and it makes the lanterns outside sway softly as it blows by. 

Tonight, it looks like there may be weather in the distance, dark gray clouds covering the sky to the west of them, just barely visible in the twilight.

Sasuke leans against the bannister, one leg straight in front of him, the other tucked to his chest as he halfheartedly reads, glancing at Atsuko every few moments to observe her work. 

She clearly favors chaos, and Sasuke sees no point in trying to stop her, letting her sprawl out on the porch, papers strewn all around her, pens everywhere, ink somehow always getting all over her hands and face, especially if she’s using the brush. 

She likes using the brush best, even though it’s harder to write with, and he has a sneaking suspicion that that’s exactly why.

He watches her practicing her writing, staring intently at the page as she writes the same characters over and over, and he smiles softly.

She’s not particularly gifted at it; gets frustrated sometimes, especially when she feels the disadvantage of getting a late start, but she’s eager to learn and to catch up with her peers, and she tries her best, which is good enough for Sasuke. 

Sometimes when they’re sitting here like this, especially when she’s got that determined look on her face, he swears he sees Naruto for a split second. As he was all those years ago, before the ninja academy, before everything, trying his best only when he thought no one was there to witness it. Like he was scared to be seen and to inevitably be judged. Sasuke remembers witnessing it and feeling disoriented, like for a moment he was watching himself, only for reality to reset itself a moment later. 

It’s not quite like that with Atsuko. As he studies her face, that determination is there, but not the fear. Not that impulse to hide away her imperfections. 

He feels a sense of pride as he looks at her, honored that she doesn’t feel like she has to hide from him. 

Atsuko finishes her last set of characters before she puts the pen down and sits up, examining her work.

Sasuke raises his eyebrows at her in question, holding out his hand to check her work. Instead of just handing it to him, Atsuko crawls over to sit next to him, holding the paper so they can both see it. 

“Good job,” Sasuke praises, looking over the messy but accurate work that she had done before glancing at her. “You have it all memorized?”

Atsuko beams at him, nodding proudly, and Sasuke chuckles. 

“I think that’s enough work for tonight,” he declares, pulling out the calligraphy set from behind him and handing it to her. “You remember how, right?”

Atsuko nods, immediately abandoning her workbook in favor of drawing with the calligraphy set, which, by now, she’s become proficient in setting up all on her own. 

Giving up on reading, Sasuke slides the dry ginkgo leaf that he’s been using as a bookmark for months between the pages and sets it aside, crossing his legs to get more comfortable. 

Atsuko carefully sets up the paper with its weights, grinds the ink using a little of Sasuke’s water to wet the stone, and carefully dips the brush into it before bringing it to her face in a thinking motion, promptly smearing dark ink all over her chin. 

Sasuke opens his mouth to scold her, say something about paying attention to what she’s doing so she doesn’t make a mess, but he stops himself before he can get the words out, closing his mouth and sighing instead. She’ll get a bath later and it’ll be fine, no need to scold her over something like that. 

“This doesn’t look like writing practice to me,” Genji laughs with an exaggerated accusatory tone, sliding the front door closed behind him as he makes his way over to peer down at what Atsuko’s doing. 

“We already finished that, Grandpa,” Atsuko informs him without looking up, too entranced with her own drawings to bother.

“Ah,” Genji shoots Sasuke a conspiratorial sidelong look as he shuffles over to where he’s sitting, using his shoulder as a crutch when he takes a seat on the steps. “My mistake then.”

It’s unusual for Genji to come out here, usually opting to take a nap after dinner, too tired to stay awake until they go to bed, but he seems to be feeling a little better lately. 

Genji watches Atsuko draw for a while before he turns to Sasuke, elbows propped on his knees, breeze playing gently with his silvery hair.

“That calligraphy set is by far the nicest thing you own,” he remarks, raising an eyebrow.

Sasuke shifts a little before nodding. It’s true. He doesn’t want to think about how much money Naruto spent on it, especially considering he hasn’t used it for its intended purpose in almost nine months. 

“Where’d it come from?” Genji pries, not letting him off easy.

“Friend gave it to me,” Sasuke’s eyes shift to look at the set, still in great condition even after all this time. He can’t help but soften as he gazes at it. 

“That’s quite the gift.”

Sasuke snorts. “It’s his way of telling me to stay in touch.”

Genji hums, and Sasuke glances back at him only to see him carefully studying him, an unreadable expression on his face, like he’s only saying half of what he wants to say. “Well, did you?”

Sasuke takes a deep breath in and out, turning away, eyes cast out across the dark sea of swaying grass. 

“Ah,” says Genji. “And why not?”

It’s a fair question, just not one Sasuke really has an answer to. Because he’s hardly the same person he was when he left, because he doesn’t belong in Naruto’s life anymore, because it’s been nine months of complete silence and he’s broken his promise and Naruto probably thinks he’s dead by now, and sending just a picture wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to explain himself.

Because he thinks of Naruto looking at him as he is now and not wanting him anymore, not seeing him the same way. Like maybe all that was ever there was this rivalry, and now that he’s fallen to this level, there will be nothing left to say between the two of them. What if violence was the only thread connecting together, and now-

Sasuke closes his eyes, shaking his head to stop his thoughts, pulling himself back to earth. 

He swallows. “What would I say?” he asks into the night.

He can feel Genji’s eyes on him, but he can’t meet his gaze, too vulnerable talking about Naruto like it’s nothing. Like it isn’t the same as showing his soft underbelly and hoping that he won’t be disemboweled right here on the porch. 

“Anything,” says Genji. “That’s an expensive calligraphy set with a whole lot of paper in it. Seems like all your friend wants is to hear from you.”

Sasuke laughs, unable to stop it from being derisive. Genji says it like it’s easy, but he doesn’t understand the sheer amount of water under the bridge.

“Just say anything,” Sasuke repeats. He means to snap at Genji, spit it at him to show him just how absurd it is, but it comes out soft. Disbelieving. He realizes with a wave of embarrassment, that he wants to. He wants to just say anything and he wants that to be enough. But it just can’t be. Not after everything. 

“You know, kid,” Genji chuckles, shaking his head in Sasuke’s periphery as he turns to look out at the yard, releasing Sasuke from his gaze. “I’ve never met another person who could benefit so profoundly from lightening up.”

Sasuke snaps his head to look at him, mouth open, ready to defend himself before he realizes he doesn’t know what to say, vitriol draining as fast as it had come. 

The silence stretches out before Genji speaks again, eyes soft as he looks out at his yard. He looks his age, dark circles under his eyes, bones of his cheeks stark under his sunken skin, but there’s a kindness to him that seems to prevail through everything. 

Genji sighs, and Sasuke watches him as he speaks. 

“Things can feel so big and so important, like the world spins on its axis because of your choices alone,” he says softly, voice raspy like the hiss of the breeze against the grass. “But it doesn’t, kid. It’s just life. And you’re just human.” He tightens his grip on his own arm a little as he shakes his head. 

“It’s not that simple,” Sasuke breathes, unconvincing even to himself.

“Why not?” Genji asks, finally turning to look at him again. “You know what I think, kid, I think you value control over almost everything else in your life. I think just so you could be certain of the outcome, you would rather steer a cart off a cliff than give someone else the reins. I think you won’t write to your friend because then it’s out of your hands.”

Sasuke feels his eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he flounders for any kind of response to that, coming up empty. 

Genji smiles knowingly at him, reaching out to pat his shin gently. “Control is comforting, isn’t it? But the thing about it is that when you control every single thing about your life, when you restrict yourself to only ever experiencing things that are completely on your terms, that’s not really living.”

Genji retracts his hand before using the railing to pull himself, groaning heavily with the effort as he brushes himself off and looks down at Sasuke.

“So my advice? Write something down in a letter and send it.”

That night, long after Genji and Atsuko have gone to bed, Sasuke sits in his room on the floor, calligraphy set sitting boxed in front of him. 

The lamp on his bedside table casts a warm orange glow across the room, shadows of the curtain shifting to and fro as the soft breeze from the open window plays with it. He feels it ruffle his hair, sending shivers down his spine as he sits cross legged, at a complete and utter stalemate with himself. 

Sasuke breathes out slowly and reaches out to touch the smooth carved food, fingers dipping into the grooves that depict a heron landing in a lake until they reach the notch at the bottom. 

He clicks it and slides the top off, revealing the blue silk lined interior that’s almost as pristine as the day it was given to him, save for a few splashes of ink that have stained it. 

His mind drifts to that moment, on his first night free from the Leaf Village, when he sat by the fire and discovered Naruto’s note to him. 

He remembers looking at Naruto’s clumsy handwriting on the expensive rice paper over a year ago, watching those words turn to ash in the fire and thinking it’s for the best. 

He had thought that there was no future in which they would see each other again, not in a way that mattered at least.

Perhaps they would pass each other by. They would maybe even stop, sit down for a meal opposite each other at a table, and it would be nice. Naruto would tell him about the village and how nothing ever changes, and Sasuke would lie to him and tell him he likes life on the road. They’d both be perfectly civil, avoiding meeting each other’s gaze for the threat of seeing anything real there. They’d say goodbye and they’d walk away and pretend that it was enough, that the state of civility between people who once knew each other as they knew themselves wasn’t as agonizing as being burned alive. 

Sasuke sits on the cool wood floor of his room, hair loose around his face fluttering in the gentle April breeze, the smell of earth and rain drifting in, and he can’t think of one single legitimate reason to continue on this way. 

Sasuke has spent his entire life desperate for control.

He was convinced that if he chose to walk away from Naruto, if he chose to turn his back on everything they were, everything they could be, everything he wanted, he could take it. If he made the decision, he wouldn’t have to live with the civility. He wouldn’t have to watch everything they had be taken from them with force. It could be a choice he made rather than yet another thing to lose.

But loss is loss. The only difference is that this way, there was no chance to begin with.

Sasuke has spent most of his life excising pieces of himself in the name of welfare. Deciding that happiness, joy, love; these were infections that, if left alone, would destroy him. It was better to cut off the rot before it spreads. 

But the truth is that it kills you just the same. Love makes you vulnerable, like opening a vein to the elements and hoping that you are only met with clean things despite the utter improbability of that. But life without love- life without happiness, joy, fulfillment. Life without others . Life that is so tightly controlled, cut so carefully that there’s hardly anything left- it’s not a life. 

He finds now that he wishes he had kept that letter. He wishes he had kept it in his pack, he wishes he had looked at it every day until the ink became worn and smudged, he wishes he had let that desire stay, let it keep him warm . 

He takes out a piece of paper, flattening it between the ceramic weights. He pours water onto the stone and he grinds it. He smooths down the bristles of the brush and he takes a deep breath.

He puts brush to paper.

Naruto,

I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m in Fire Country- a village 4 miles west of the old Uchiha hideout. 800 Northwood Lane, house with the sycamore and the ginkgo tree. Can’t miss it. 

I’ll be here, whatever you decide to do. Letters go to the post office. I’ll check.

Sasuke hesitates for only a moment.

Yours, Sasuke. 

Chapter Text

“Should have started taking in strays a long time ago,” Genji chuckles from his spot in the shade of the porch, taking off his big bamboo hat and placing it to his side with a satisfied sigh. “Who knew that farming could be this easy?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, leaning hard into the tiller and pushing it into the hard dirt of the unused patch of land, having been out of the crop rotation for at least a year regaining its nutrients. The soil turns, revealing rich, dark earth that will hopefully support Genji’s desperate desire for a flower garden, crows by damned. 

“I thought Sasuke wasn’t allowed in the garden?” Atsuko pipes up, feet swinging off the side of the back porch, leaning on the railing as she watches him work. 

Genji lets out a bellowing laugh. “That’s right, he’s not. Good memory,” he replies, mirth in his voice. “Can’t have him and his plant killing curse anywhere near our crops, it’s a liability. But, he can till the dirt just fine.”

Sasuke hears Atsuko hum, and even though he isn’t looking at her, he’s sure she’s stroking her chin contemplatively. Sasuke smiles at the thought, propping the till against his abdomen to wipe the sweat from his forehead. 

Even though it’s only April, with the sun high in the sky like this, beating down on him as he works on the small patch of land, it’s pretty damn hot. After a moment of consideration, Sasuke shrugs out of his tunic, tucking it around his waist to let himself breathe a little better. 

He can feel the sun on his pale shoulders, and he knows instantly that by the time he’s done, they’ll be a hot angry pink, but he deems it worth the risk. 

“Come look at the flowers!” Atsuko calls out to him, waving a hand for him to join them on the porch.

Hot, sweaty, and tired, Sasuke obliges, walking over to lean on a bannister as he takes a drink of his water.

“There’s so many different kinds,” Atsuko marvels as she looks down at what must be twenty different packets of seeds, strewn all over the porch. “Which ones are we going to do, grandpa?”

Genji hums, looking over the array. “I was thinking of petunias and zinnias. Beyond that, it’s up to you kids.”

“We get to pick one out?” Atsuko’s eyes widen and she smiles, bouncing up and down a little where she’s now crouched over the packets. 

Genji nods. “Why not? The more the merrier.”

Before Atsuko can say anything else, she’s interrupted by the distant creak of the front gate as it opens and closes.

“Ah, that might be Hikari,” Genji says, stiffly pulling himself up off the porch. “You two think about what flowers you want, I’ll be back.”

Sasuke nods as Genji disappears into the house, sliding the door closed with a click behind him. 

“There’s so many,” Atsuko muses, gazing at the choices. Luckily, they all have tiny pictures of the flowers on the front so they can figure out what they’ll look like. As Sasuke surveys the variety, he realizes he doesn’t have half a clue what most of them are. “What are you going to pick?”

Silently, he picks two of the packets and looks over them before handing them to her.

“What do you think?” 

“Sunflower,” Atsuko sounds out carefully, “and…” she frowns down at the word before pointing at the packet and glancing up at Sasuke.

“Marigold,” he supplies.

“Marigold. They’re pretty.”

Sasuke hums, opening his mouth to ask her about her own choices before the door slides back open and Genji pokes his head out, a perplexed look on his face.

“Sasuke, someone’s asking for you out front.”

Sasuke frowns, putting the marigold packet down and pushing off the deck. “Who?”

Genji shrugs. “Kid around your age. Didn’t give me a name.”

Sasuke nods slowly. “I’ll-” he swallows, “I’ll meet them out front.”

It’s unlikely that there’d be anyone in the village that Genji wouldn’t know, especially someone looking for Sasuke. As he walks around the shady side of the house, quickening his steps, he entertains the idea that this person may be hostile, looking for him to enact some sort of revenge for one of the numerous things he’s done to warrant that kind of thing.

As he rounds the corner, the notion seems plausible enough that he considers ducking back inside to dig up Kusanagi from wherever it’s buried in his old pack shoved under his bed, but before he can do that, he’s stopped dead in his tracks. 

For a long, excruciating moment, Sasuke really believes that he’s dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or any other possible explanation for what he’s seeing other than the obvious one; that it’s real. 

Standing right inside the gate is Naruto. He’s facing away toward the field across the road, so he can’t see his face, but he knows. He’d know him anywhere, in any state, in any place. His chakra may be broken and feeble now, but it would know Naruto’s even across lifetimes. 

He’s facing away, hands clasped tightly behind his back, like that’s the only way he can stop himself from fidgeting. His blonde hair shifts a little in the breeze, unbound by any hitai-ate. And even like this, he looks simultaneously completely different and just the same. Despite the passing of time, there’s something in Sasuke that always recognizes something in Naruto.

And as if he, too, can sense Sasuke without his eyes, Naruto turns to finally look at him. 

Naruto’s eyes widen as he meets Sasuke’s, and something settles back into place, like the final click of a lock before the pins align just as they’re meant to. It’s a heaviness. A physical presence in Sasuke’s body that he always used to resent as a kid, twisting away from it, desperately trying to pretend that it wasn’t something he wanted. When he was young, it felt constricting, like all the ways in which they were bound together would hold them down, make them vulnerable.

Now as he looks at Naruto, it doesn’t feel constricting, it feels like gravity. It feels like finally both his feet are on the ground.

“Sasuke,” Naruto speaks his name like the invocation to a prayer. He breathes it out like the lighting of a match. Like incense smoke curling into the sky at a grave. 

He looks at him like he’s not sure he’s really there, ready at any moment for Sasuke to dissolve into nothingness right before his eyes. 

Sasuke steps forward, and Naruto blinks, like he wasn’t expecting him to move. He takes another step, afraid that if he moves too quickly the moment will fall away and he’ll wake up on the forest floor, cold and wet and alone, while at the same time completely unable to stop himself from coming closer. He takes one final step, and that’s it- Naruto moves before Sasuke can react, like the final fraying of a rope, the snap as the last of his composure separates from him entirely, leaving him to close the space between them with just a few strides, taking Sasuke firmly by the shoulders and pulling him in like it’s all he’s thought of since they parted. 

For a moment, Sasuke freezes, arm hanging limply by his side as his mind catches up. 

There is not a shred of hesitance in the action. It’s abundantly clear in the way Naruto holds onto him, arms tight around his back, fingertips pressed hard enough to his bare skin that he’s sure he’ll feel the imprints of them long after Naruto pulls away, that Naruto is sure. That there’s no part of him that looked at Sasuke now, after a year and a half of separation, after everything that’s happened, after all the ways in which Sasuke has changed, and wanted to pull away.

Slowly, Sasuke meets him there, wrapping his arm around Naruto’s shoulders and letting himself sink into the hold, closing his eyes. He can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, but it’s so secondary to every other sensation that he can hardly pay it any attention. 

With a deep breath he tightens his hold, pressing them even closer together, fingers winding around the fabric of his shirt just for something to hold onto as his mind registers the warm, familiar scent of Naruto like a signpost towards safety. 

He can feel Naruto’s shaky exhale and his throat tightens, tears stinging his eyes as they well up against his will. 

He can’t think of anything but how good it feels to have Naruto like this. It fills him with a sense of rightness, like for just this moment, everything is as it should be. Everything is in its right place, like the fleeting instance of the moon blocking out the sun, an eclipse that seems so improbable until you see it with your own eyes and realize that perhaps this is the very thing they were made to do. 

“I didn’t think-” Naruto’s voice breaks, watery and unsteady. Sasuke can feel him swallow. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Sasuke doesn’t ask why. He knows already.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Naruto’s shoulder, throat too tight to do anything else.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t ever-” Naruto murmurs, shaking his head a little. “You scared the hell out of me, Sasuke.”

Naruto pulls back just enough to meet Sasuke’s eyes, arms still wrapped tightly around him. His eyes shine with unshed tears, but on his face is a smile. A little frantic, a little hysterical, but a smile nonetheless, and Sasuke can’t help but stare at it in awe. 

It’s simple. Like the taste of fresh fruit, or the warmth of your own bed, or the feeling of a breeze against your skin. It’s a happiness so basal, so natural and uncomplicated, that Sasuke doesn’t know what to do with it. There’s nothing that can be done with it, other than feel it. 

“I-” Naruto shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh as his eyes wander over Sasuke’s face before dropping lower as if he’s checking again to make sure he’s really there. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Unable to maintain eye contact under the intensity of Naruto’s gaze, Sasuke glances down between their bodies, just to give himself a moment. 

The way Naruto sees Sasuke has always been so far out of the range of what Sasuke can understand that sometimes he doesn’t believe him. It’s the closest to something unconditional that Sasuke thinks he’s ever come to in his life, and sometimes the weight of that feels like something he isn’t capable of holding within himself. 

“Naruto-”

Before he can say anything else, the sound of the front door sliding open interrupts him and he jerks his head in the direction as Naruto abruptly drops his arms from Sasuke’s sides, taking a small step back and clearing his throat. 

Genji and Atsuko stand on the porch looking at the two of them and Sasuke can feel his cheeks flush, suddenly extremely aware that they had just been in a passionate embrace right there in the front yard, and his tunic is still tied around his waist.

Sasuke tries to pull himself together, glancing at Naruto briefly, trying not to stare. “Naruto,” he swallows, “this is Genji and Atsuko.” He nods towards them as they walk out to meet them.

Genji gives a big smile while Atsuko trails behind, shooting nervous glances between Sasuke and Naruto. Sasuke looks back at Naruto who wears a complicated expression on his face, simultaneously relieved and sad before he wipes it clean, fixing a perfectly warm and polite smile on there instead. 

“It’s good to meet you,” he says, shocking them all by giving an overly polite bow. 

Genji raises his eyebrows at Sasuke before he shakes his head at Naruto, holding up a hand. “No need for any of that,” he chides easily, “it’s good to meet one of Sasuke’s friends after all this time.”

Naruto glances at Sasuke, a soft expression on his face before he ducks his head and turns back to Genji. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Naruto-” Sasuke tries to interrupt as Genji’s eyes widen for a moment at his earnestness, but Genji cuts him off. 

“We’re happy to have him around. Someone has to do all my dirty work,” he chuckles.

Naruto laughs, and though it’s bright, there’s a tension to it, like he’s strung too tightly. “Sasuke? Doing farm work? That I have to see,” he jokes weakly. To anyone else it would seem seamless and natural, but Sasuke knows him.

“Well, you very well might if you stay long enough,” Genji replies, putting a hand absentmindedly on Atsuko’s head before gesturing back towards the house. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Naruto. There’s plenty.”

Sasuke glances at Naruto, but he’s already looking back at him, a questioning expression on his face. For the first time since he’d been there, Sasuke sees uncertainty, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed, like he’s expecting Sasuke to send him away. He looks at Sasuke and his eyes ask him, can I?

And Sasuke doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to convey just how badly he wants him to stay, eat dinner next to him, take up space in the house. How badly he wants to hear his raspy voice that he’d missed so much echo off of the old wooden walls. How badly he wants to look up and see him there. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t speak, only bumping the back of Naruto’s hand with his own and nodding. 

For a second, Naruto’s eyes snap down to where their knuckles brush, mouth open, before he faces Genji again. 

“I’d like that.”

___

As Sasuke and Genji stand at the counter side by side, Sasuke washing the rice while Genji stirs the fragrant curry, Sasuke can’t stop glancing over to Naruto where he’s sitting at the table with Atsuko. 

He leans in, chin propped in his hand, listening carefully to Atsuko as she timidly shows him her drawings. Every few moments, he points at something on the paper, asking a question about it, and little by little, Sasuke can see Atsuko relax, too excited to talk about her drawings to stay quiet for long. 

It’s been a year and a half since Sasuke last saw Naruto, but in a lot of ways, he’s just the same. He’s bright and lovely, filling the space around him with a life and a warmth that Sasuke has gone his whole life attributing to him alone. 

As Sasuke studies him, he does appear a little older; features a little sharper, hair a little longer. He still wears that awful orange, but his clothes don’t hang off him like they used to- jacket tied around his waist, just wearing a simple tshirt with the Uzumaki symbol on the sleeve. He doesn’t wear his hitai-ate anymore either, or at least not where Sasuke can see it, which gives Sasuke pause but he decides against bringing it up. 

“Is this the friend who gave you the expensive set?” Genji murmurs, voice just low enough that Naruto probably couldn’t hear it from his place at the table. 

Sasuke drains the excess rice water, using his finger to test the levels before putting it in the cooker and switching it on. He can feel Genji looking sideways at him and he steadfastly refuses to meet his eyes. 

“Hm,” Genji’s tone suggests that Sasuke is being seen right through, and he can hear him turn a little to glance surreptitiously back at Naruto and Atsuko. “Friend may have been a bit of an understatement, then?”

Sasuke snaps his eyes to look at Naruto, but he’s blissfully unaware of the conversation happening five feet away from him. He sighs heavily, turning back to the counter to wipe it down and get out some bowls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Genji chuckles, shaking his head, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Just-” Sasuke glances over his shoulder again. “Just drop it,” he glances at Genji and he must see something on his face because he presses his lips together, turning back to the curry and letting it go. 

Dinner passes in a blur. Naruto regails Genji and Atsuko with all sorts of stories, many of which Sasuke knows to be exaggerated, others of which he knows to be exactly true despite their insanity. 

They sit right beside each other, knees close enough under the table that if Sasuke moved even an inch, they would touch. It would be so easy to rest his knee against Naruto, just to feel the physical reminder that he’s there, just to feel the comfort of that assurance, but he doesn’t, making do with just the sound of his voice as he speaks. 

It’s easy. Naruto makes it easy; asking questions, answering them when they are directed at him. He speaks in that enthusiastic voice that he uses when he’s trying to be diplomatic, and Sasuke wonders if he’s just so used to it now that he doesn’t know how to turn it off.

Every once in a while, Naruto turns to him even if he isn’t speaking. It almost seems unconscious, like a compass needle towards true north.  It makes Sasuke shift in his seat, so deeply aware of being observed not only by Naruto but also Genji and Atsuko who are watching them from across the table. Even still, he can’t convince himself that he wants Naruto to stop looking at him. 

As they finish up, Naruto stands, reaching around to pick up everyone’s bowls before anyone can beat him to it, insisting on doing the dishes himself.

“Do what you want,” Genji waves him off, “I’m eighty-five years old, you aren’t going to hear any argument from me.” 

Sasuke rolls his eyes and watches Naruto laugh and retreat into the kitchen, making himself comfortable at the sink. 

“Where is Naruto from?” Atsuko asks quietly, turning around in her chair to watch him as well.

Sasuke looks at Naruto’s back, bent forward as he fills the sink with steaming water. He could lie, make up something perfectly neutral and untrue, sever any possible ties they could make between Naruto and Sasuke’s past, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to present Naruto in any way other than exactly as he is. 

“The Leaf Village,” he replies, “west of here.”

Genji’s eyebrows raise but he doesn’t say anything, carefully studying Sasuke as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Are you from there, too?” Atsuko presses. 

Sasuke stills. Naruto and the truth about him, that’s one thing. Sasuke is another. 

Atsuko’s young. She likely wouldn’t understand what it meant for Sasuke to tell her about his past, about where he’s from, about what that means for him, but he still can’t bring himself to address it directly. He’s not ready for them to see the rotten parts of him just yet. 

“It’s a long story,” he says, standing just to prevent any further questions from being asked. He doesn’t want to lie to them, so it’s best not to speak at all. Atsuko’s face falls a little, slumping in her chair like he’d just snapped at her despite his carefully neutral tone. “I’ll tell you another day,” he offers. An olive branch. An assurance that it’s not her who is wrong in asking. She seems to relax a little, and that’s good enough for Sasuke.

He makes his way into the kitchen, just standing there for a moment watching Naruto work, water all over everything as he uses what must be the messiest possible tactic of doing dishes that Sasuke’s ever seen. He smiles to himself, shaking his head as he takes the spot next to him, picking up a cloth to start drying the stack of dishes. 

“Hey, I’ve got it,” Naruto complains weakly, making a grab for the towel. Sasuke jerks it out of his reach smoothly, not pausing as he dries the cup in his hand and places it on the rack. 

Naruto clicks his tongue at him before promptly giving up, returning to the task in front of him. “You’re just as stubborn as ever, huh,” he mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that Sasuke feels like the first sting of warm water on your skin after you’ve been out in the cold.

“Year and a half isn’t long enough to change me that much,” Sasuke retorts, taking the proffered dish from Naruto and drying it. Naruto petulantly takes out another dish to scrub, apparently having no argument. 

They stand shoulder to shoulder over the sink, cleaning in silence for what feels like a long time, neither of them feeling any need to rush. 

It’s dark outside by now, and when Sasuke looks up, he can see their reflections against the glass of the window. It’s a distorted version of them, only half there, like a mirage you’d see across the sand, or a hallucination you’d see during a fever. It looks like something you’d see and want desperately to be real, only to notice the edges around it that aren’t quite corporeal, that don’t quite hold up to scrutiny. Like a glimpse into another life, one they could have had if they hadn’t been born who they were. 

He blinks as he realizes that Naruto’s looking at the reflection as well, catching his gaze and holding it for a long moment, almost afraid to turn to him, right there beside him, just in case it really is just a dream. Not wanting to shatter the illusion. 

Naruto’s elbow brushes his, and Sasuke exhales, glancing at him only to find him looking right back. 

Sasuke huffs and shakes his head, putting the last dish on the rack. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching them from the living room.  

“Atsuko’s in bed,” Genji sighs as he sidles up to them, putting a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder.  “I’m heading off too.”

Sasuke nods as Genji turns to Naruto, giving him a tired smile. “Stay the night, kid,” he says, offering no room for argument. “Sasuke can show you where everything is.”

Naruto ducks his head in that overly respectful way he’s been doing and he smiles back. “Thank you. And thank you for dinner.”

“Ah,” Genji shakes his head. “It was mostly Sasuke anyway, but you’re very welcome.” He gives Sasuke a look before patting his shoulder and taking his leave. 

They stand in the kitchen for a second, silence stretching out between them, stifling, like all their memories together are sitting there with them, scrutinizing them. 

Naruto rubs the back of his head, glancing away, opening his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out.

Taking pity on him, Sasuke hangs up the rag and nods out the window towards the dark night. “Up for a walk?”

Naruto raises his eyebrows before he gives a small smile. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

Sasuke considers leaving his cane here, acutely aware that Naruto will have questions about it that will be hard to answer, but he decides to leave Naruto at the door to retrieve it anyway. Better not to get stranded and have to answer questions on top of having to be carried home. 

When he returns, Naruto’s on the porch facing the front yard, hands in the pockets of his jacket that he’d put on in the chillier night breeze. It’s not that same old orange one, Sasuke realizes. This one is more understated, mostly black except the orange collar, and it makes him look older, especially with the longer hair. Or maybe it just makes him look his age.

Sasuke clears his throat and Naruto turns to look at him. His mouth drops open and his eyebrows knit together for a moment as he takes in the cane, but to his credit, he schools his expression almost instantly back into something perfectly placid, and he doesn’t bring it up. 

“Lead the way,” he grins, stepping down the stairs into the night. 

The late April air is cool but mild, a soft breeze rustling the leaves along the deserted road, blowing currents across the fields on either side of them, moonlight reflecting off the long blades of grass. Sasuke can smell freshly cut plants and soil as they meander through different patches of farmland, everyone preparing for the summer growing season. 

It’s not that late, but late enough for them to be alone, everyone else tucked away in their houses, getting ready for the next day. 

They walk in silence for a long time, just the sound of the wind in the trees and the crunch of their feet against the dirt road. 

It’s not that they have nothing to talk about, it’s that they have too much. Any one thing seems too enormous to try to bring up like it’s nothing. Even the basic questions: How have you been? How’s the leaf? How’re the people who live there? 

Each seems so fraught that Sasuke doesn’t know how to broach the subject, and judging by Naruto’s tense silence, hands still fisted into his pockets, he guesses he feels the same. 

“It’s nice out here,” Naruto muses, glancing theatrically at their surroundings. 

Sasuke huffs at the obvious attempt at filling the silence. “It’s just Fire Country, Naruto. Same as the Leaf Village.”

“It’s not quite the same,” Naruto says, voice defensive. “There’s more…” he flounders, “farms? Fields?”

“Uh huh,” Sasuke mutters drily, “I suppose the fields are nice.”

“Come on, Sasuke,” Naruto pleads, the pleasant lightness from before growing an edge, “work with me here. I’m just trying to talk to you. It’s been over a year.”

Sasuke sighs, fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come, shame at having rejected Naruto’s bid for connection replacing it. 

“Look, I don’t-” he looks down the long road ahead of them for answers and is met with none. “I don’t know what to say.”

Naruto laughs, high and edgy. “You could start by telling me what happened in the last year and a half since you left. Or why you dropped off the face of the earth. Or- ” he tosses his hands up in an exasperated gesture, the first real crack in Naruto’s perfect composure to show the feelings bubbling beneath the surface since he got there. “How long you’ve been here, a day’s travel away from Konoha, without telling me.”

It’s silent for a moment and Sasuke grips his cane, knuckles white. 

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not -” Naruto snaps before he runs a hand through his hair, biting at his lip and taking a visible, measured breath, and trying again, softer. “I’m not angry. I just-” he trails off, stopping dead in the middle of the street.

Sasuke paces a few more steps before stopping as well when he doesn’t follow, facing him. 

“I thought you were dead,” Naruto breathes into the space between him, voice thin and unsure like he’s scared that if he speaks it too loudly, it will become true. 

The words take up space, like Naruto had thrown down a book between them, filled back to front with a never ending story of pain and fear and want. Like if they opened up the pages, it would lay bare every single part of the both of them that is ugly and hard to look at, all laid out there in print, unable to be argued with.

“Don’t you understand that? I stopped getting letters from you, and I just- I tried to keep calm but after months of nothing…” he shakes his head. “I looked everywhere, I used every resource I knew of to find out if anyone had seen you alive, but there was nothing. You just…vanished.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, bowing his head, unable to keep looking at Naruto and the pain so evident on his face. 

“I was here,” he speaks slowly. “I traveled for a long time. I overdid it. I ended up here.” Sasuke gives an ineffectual shrug. “And after that, I just didn’t know what to say to you.”

Naruto frowns, stepping closer. “What do you mean you overdid it?”

Sasuke lets out a frustrated huff, turning on his heel to keep walking, not at all wanting to get into this. Naruto catches his upper arm, turning him back around to face him.

“Tell me what happened,” Naruto demands.

“There’s nothing to tell!” Sasuke shouts, wrenching his arm free and stumbling back a step, catching himself with his cane. “Look, you really want to know? I spent nine months running myself into the ground, and I snapped, okay? My body, my mind, whatever- I just lost it!” 

Naruto’s eyes widen as he speaks, and something about it feels good. Naruto has never been a terribly composed person, but he has this innate ability to see everything in a positive light. There’s something about watching him come up short that feels cathartic.

“Genji found me half dead, and I’ve spent the last nine months just-” he shakes his cane to drive his point home, “trying to pick up the pieces. Trying to remember how to walk. How to be a person. That’s where I’ve been. That’s what I’ve been doing, Naruto.”

It’s quiet for a long moment and Sasuke tries to steady himself, heartbeat rattling wildly in his chest with adrenaline. It feels unsteady. He feels alive. 

“Why didn’t you write to me?” Naruto finally speaks, voice pleading. “I could have- I don’t know. I could have helped. I could have been there for you.”

“I didn’t want you to,” Sasuke breathes, and it feels harsh. It feels like a low blow, but it’s the truth. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I thought that you’d-” he can’t quite get it out. Not quite brave enough to put it into words; that he was afraid he wouldn’t see him the same, afraid that he no longer had a place in his life, now that everything he used to be had turned to dust and blown away. 

The way Naruto is looking at him, he thinks that perhaps he doesn’t have to say it. 

“Sasuke,” he breathes, eyes shining in the soft moonlight as he takes a step closer. “There’s nothing that could-” he shakes his head, and his expression is desperate, like he’s terrified that Sasuke won’t understand him. “You’re still you. That’s all that matters to me.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t know why he’s surprised to hear it. This is Naruto, who had stood by him when he was young and wretched, when he was on the run, when he was wanted in all five shinobi villages. This is the Naruto who begged the Raikage for his life, and had been ready to die with him at the Valley of the End. This is the very same Naruto who broke into court to publicly spill state secrets just to save his life. 

As he looks at him, hair almost silvery in the night, drifting around his face gently as the breeze plays around them, he believes him. He finds it almost too easy to believe him, like his body knew even before his mind, that by this person, he is accepted. 

“I’m glad you’re here now,” is all he can say. It doesn’t even begin to cover it, he doesn’t know if Naruto will understand everything he means by it, but he realizes that if he only speaks when he’s certain he will be understood, he will be silent forever. Perhaps it is better to try than to resign yourself to a life of self-immolation, a burning of the spirit in protest of the possibility of being misunderstood. Perhaps it is better to let the ink stain the page, if for no other reason than as proof that you lived. 

“Where else would I be?”

___

They slip back into the house late, opening the door slowly so it doesn’t squeak and wake anyone, and tiptoeing back to Sasuke’s room. 

He fishes out a towel for Naruto and points him in the direction of the bathroom so he can shower after his long day while Sasuke dawdles in his room, not sure what to do with himself.

He could dig around and find an additional futon for Naruto, but something about that feels too cold, like it would be taking a step backwards, so he decides against it, just flicking on his bedside lamp and cracking the window open by the bed. 

Just as he takes his hair out of its ponytail, the door quietly hisses open and Sasuke turns around, mouth dropping open before he can stop it.

“Um,” Naruto clears his throat softly, shrugging a little with one hand at the tie of the towel around his hips, the other holding the pile of his clothes. “I was hoping I could borrow some clothes to sleep in. I’ve already sweat in these, so…”

Sasuke swallows dry. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Naruto shirtless, maybe even since they were kids, and he sure as hell hadn’t thought that he’d be seeing him now. 

His stomach is flat and toned, unmarked by the dark seal he used to have as a kid, now just a stretch of skin, completely smooth and unmarred, probably because of the kyuubi’s healing factor, except for a light trail of hair disappearing into the line of the towel.

Sasuke jerks his gaze back up, abruptly turning to the dresser to dig around for some clothes for him, desperately hoping Naruto hadn’t noticed him staring. He finds some soft shorts and one of the few t-shirts that he owns, thrusting them at Naruto before hurriedly excusing himself to take his own shower. 

The house is silent when he walks back to his room, lights off in Genji’s and Atsuko’s rooms, plunging it into a soft blue darkness.

Sasuke avoids the creaky floorboards, just to preserve it, make sure they sleep soundly. He reaches the hallway, the warm glow of his bedside lamp bleeding through the rice paper door, and he takes a deep breath in. 

Naruto will still be there when he slides it open. Probably rummaging through his small pack or being nosey or just sitting there on the bed. Whatever he’s doing, he’ll be there. A shadow shifts inside the room. Sasuke exhales and slides the door open. 

As Sasuke slides the door shut behind him with a soft click, Naruto looks up at him from where he’s sitting on the bed, right by the bedside table. 

He looks terribly undone, and Sasuke swallows down any number of embarrassing reactions to the way his hair lies floppy and frizzy over his eyes, or the way his skin is still a little pink from the hot water, or the way he looks in Sasuke’s clothes that fit him perfectly even though they don’t fit Sasuke anymore. 

“Hey,” Naruto murmurs, and Sasuke nods his head before turning away to towel off his hair. 

It’s a little cowardly, but the nervous energy in the room compels him to twist away, like the impulse to cover your eyes when looking at something too bright, like the feeling on your skin when the warmth of the sun becomes something that will leave a mark. 

Behind him, he hears a shuffle of papers and a creak of the bed frame.

“Did Atsuko draw these for you?” 

Sasuke hangs the towel on the edge of the dresser, running his finger through his hair a few more times in a vain attempt to detangle it as he turns around.

“Yeah,” he walks over to take a seat beside Naruto, taking one of the drawings from his hand. It’s one of his favorites, the one of the vaguely fox shaped animal in the field of flowers. “She made them when I was sick.”

Naruto smiles, and the warm yellow light catches the shadows of his dimples and the markings on his cheeks. Sasuke can’t remember what they feel like under his fingers, if he ever knew, and it feels like a loss either way. 

“She seems like a good kid,” Naruto says, gingerly placing the pictures back in their little stack on the table.

“She is.”

They’re sitting close, pressed together by the give of the mattress, knees bumping. Sasuke could just adjust, putting space between them, but he likes the way it feels, this casual contact. He likes the warmth of skin on skin, even if it’s only their knees. He likes the tickle of Naruto’s leg hair against him. 

He looks at the spot where they touch a little too long, surprised by Naruto’s voice when he finally speaks. 

“Your hair is long,” he murmurs, and Sasuke glances to find him already looking at him, examining him with soft eyes. 

“Yeah,” Sasuke huffs, running his hand through it again reflexively. “Haven’t really had the means to cut it.”

Naruto hums, slowly bringing a hand up to his hair, taking a few damp strands between his fingers. “It looks good like this.”

The corner of Sasuke’s mouth quirks as he watches Naruto’s face, a devastating fondness clear on it as he looks Sasuke over carefully, like he’s checking for any changes since he last saw him. “Not like the bar was high,” Sasuke mutters in reply.

Naruto snorts, tilting his head to the side and shifting his hand as if he’s looking for a better angle. Sasuke shivers as his fingertips brush the shell of his ear before sinking a little deeper into his hair, closer to his scalp. “Hey, I liked your duck hair,” he says in a mock-serious tone, frowning. “It was an innovation for its time.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Cut me some slack, I was nine.”

Naruto raises an eyebrow, finally letting his hand fall from Sasuke’s hair. “You had that haircut well into your teens, if I recall correctly.”

Sasuke pushes at him weakly, and Naruto laughs, bouncing back to bump his shoulder before they lapse back into silence. 

For a long moment they just look at each other. Sasuke tries to conjure a single coherent thought, but his mind is content with simply looking at the way the lamplight guilds Naruto, making him look somehow even more like he was created right from the sun than usual. 

Naruto huffs, shaking his head as he looks down into his lap. “Man, long hair. Eyepatch. I’ve got to step up my game.”

“They’re still making you dress like a teenager at the Hokage’s office, huh?”

Naruto slaps his knee hard enough that it stings, but Sasuke only smirks at his outrage. “It’s not that bad,” his voice squeaks a little, “new jacket and everything!”

Sasuke shakes his head. “It’s not bad,” he says, and it’s a little too honest, so he adds, “Just surprised they aren’t making you wear the Hokage hat already.”

After a moment Naruto sighs, and it’s heavier than he expects, no longer light and teasing. “Yeah, I don’t think they’ll be doing that anytime soon.”

Sasuke frowns, trying to meet his eyes again, but Naruto’s looking down at his hands instead. “What does that mean?”

He watches Naruto’s eyes unfocus for a moment, staring blankly straight in front of him like he hadn’t heard Sasuke speak at all, before he blinks and stretches theatrically. 

“Ah, nothing. Just stupid work stuff, it’s not important,” his tone is light and fake as he scratches at his belly. 

“Naruto-”

“Seriously,” he speaks softer, a little less fabricated but also a little more sad. “I’ll tell you some other time, okay? I don’t want to think about that stuff while I’m with you.”

It stuns Sasuke enough that he lets it go, just nodding and letting him keep it to himself. 

He reaches over, clicking off the lamp before he slides into bed on his side, closest to the wall. Naruto looks at him for a long moment in the dark, like he’s not sure what to do. Like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. But Sasuke pulls back the blankets and evidently that is invitation enough. 

The bed is small, only really meant for one person, not two full grown men, but they fit okay. The breeze is cool and fresh, coming in through the window and shifting the curtain gently, offsetting the warmth of two people’s body heat.

Sasuke had forgotten how hot Naruto ran until now, shoulders pressed together under the same covers. 

He breathes deeply and he can smell the woody pine scent of the shampoo they both used, and it feels more intimate than he thinks it should. Something about identity. Each person having a distinct scent that is only theirs, something you can recognize someone by, and them, here in bed together, sharing one, like an impermanent merging of one into two. An instance of indistinct boundaries between two people who by all other measures are nothing like each other. 

Sasuke hears a shift of sheets to his side, and tilts his head to see Naruto turned on his side to face him. 

A shaft of pale moonlight spills over the two of him, making the room nowhere near as dark as he’d like. Even with the light off, he can make out every feature of Naruto’s face as he looks at him, hand tucked under his cheek. 

“What is it?” Sasuke murmurs, holding his gaze.

“Nothing,” Naruto replies softly. “It’s just been a long time.”

Sasuke searches his face for a moment. There’s happiness there. Unguarded, as always. But it’s mixed with something more complex. Caution, maybe. Disbelief. 

Without considering it too hard, Sasuke turns on his side to face him. His knee bumps against Naruto’s under the covers and he leaves it there. Out of sight, it feels permissible in a way that nothing else does. 

Naruto takes a measured breath and the almost giddy expression fades. It instantly ages him, reminding Sasuke that they aren’t kids anymore. Naruto is the same in many ways, but he’s changed too. No one lives the lives that they have lived and comes out whole, it’s just a matter of discerning in which ways people have cracked and fractured. And how those cracks and fractures overlap with your own. 

“Are you just going to stare at me all night?” Sasuke’s voice comes out as a whisper, like real speech would be too corporeal for this dream-state moment. 

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” 

He freezes, the words a shock to the system, like the paralysis of jumping into ice cold water, your body so unprepared for the change that it renders you unable to think of anything else. It’s the most honest thing Naruto has said since he showed up at the gate, the closest they’ve come to really addressing the fact that all Sasuke has done since the day they met is walk away from him. 

“I am,” he finally replies. 

There is no change in Naruto’s expression, no relaxation of the tension tied across his shoulders like rope. It is clear that his words offer him no comfort. 

Sasuke has never been good at expressing himself. He’s never been able to get the words out the way he means them, always feeling like he’s trapped within his own mind, a prison of knowing what you want to say but perpetually being misunderstood. 

Never in his life has he resented that so much as now, as he looks at the fear on Naruto’s face that comes from him and him alone. 

Sasuke breathes out steadily, willing himself to unfreeze before slowly sliding his hand across the sheets between them until his fingers brush Naruto’s forearm. 

He watches as goosebumps instantly bloom across his skin, and he holds his breath, tracking Sasuke very carefully, not breaking eye contact, hardly even blinking

Sasuke swallows, waiting for any kind of indication that Naruto wants him to stop, but none come.

His fingertips trail up his forearm, across the soft blonde hairs and warm skin, all the way to the bones of his wrist, still tucked under his chin. 

His eyes flick down to the place where he’s touching Naruto. He can see the faint veins under his skin and it feels forbidden, but all he wants to do is let his fingers slide over the pulsepoint under his thumb and feel the beat of his heart. 

He stops himself, aware enough of his own heartbeat racing wildly that he has the decency not to check Naruto’s to see if his heart is beating the same.

His fingers encircle his wrist gently, easy to break away from if he wanted to do so. His eyes meet Naruto’s again, eyebrows knit together like he doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

That’s understandable, Sasuke thinks. His futile attempt to communicate his intentions without words was unlikely to be successful from the beginning. He should retract his hand, but he doesn’t.

Naruto doesn’t speak, eyes examining him carefully like he’ll find his answer there. Like he’s trying to determine if whatever Sasuke means by touching him like this is sincere.

After a long moment, something passes over his eyes. A decision, perhaps. A conclusion. 

Naruto shifts his arm, untucking his hand from under his chin, and Sasuke takes his cue, unwrapping his fingers from around Naruto’s wrist and retracting his hand. 

Before he can get far, Naruto snaps out his hand to catch Sasuke’s, holding it there between them. 

Sasuke’s eyes widen at the action, unsure of what it means yet. Unsure if it’s something good, or if it’s anger, or offense. 

Naruto holds his hand firmly enough that he’d have to tug to get out of it, but he doesn’t. He stays still, feels the warmth of Naruto’s fingers around the back of his hand, and the pressure of his thumb pressing into his palm. 

Sasuke looks at their hands. The calluses on Naruto’s fingers are rough against his knuckles, and his hand involuntarily opens like an oyster cracked open, like Naruto’s thumb is sinking into the soft body of it, all the way down to the nacre. 

For an immeasurable stretch of time, they stay like that. Neither of them pushing or pulling, just holding still, just feeling the sensation of holding and being held. 

Naruto’s eyes soften, finally, like the loosening of ties. Like the letting out of a long-held breath. And with them, his arm relaxes, falling to the sheets but not letting go of Sasuke’s hand, resting on top of it against the sheets, warm and relaxed. Sasuke could pull back and easily be free, but he won’t. He just looks at Naruto’s heavy eyes and breathes slowly, for once content to just be still. He looks until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer, slipping into a dreamless sleep, the final sensation a brush of Naruto’s thumb against his palm. 

___

When Sasuke blinks awake, it’s early. The atmosphere is quiet and gray, hanging in that strange liminal space before the day has truly broken and yet the dark is not so rich that you could call it night. 

He’s turned towards the wall, eyes unfocused on the dark wood, not so different from having them closed. It’s warm under the covers, so Naruto must still be there.

He shifts a little, assessing, only to bump into his knees resting near the back of his thighs. They aren’t quite touching, but they’re close, Naruto caging him into the wall, curled around him like the shell of a seed. 

Despite the closeness, the only place he can actually feel Naruto is where his knuckles rest between Sasuke’s shoulder blades. 

There’s something heartrending about the point of contact, like even in his sleep he needs physical evidence that Sasuke is there just to assure himself that he hasn’t got up and abandoned him again. 

Naruto’s always been like that, he realizes. He’d reach out, again and again, like he was going out of his way to make it clear to everyone around them exactly how he felt about Sasuke. A hand on his shoulder, a bumping of knees, reaching out to grasp his arm as he emphasized a point; constant contact that Sasuke never once knew what to do with. 

When they were kids, Sasuke had called it possessiveness. But in hindsight, Sasuke’s not so sure. The way his knuckles rest along his spine doesn’t feel like possession. It feels like self reassurance, like this is the only way for Naruto to convince himself that the person in front of him is real. 

He wonders if back then, even before everything, it had been the same. 

Sasuke breathes in slowly in lieu of stretching, not wanting to wake Naruto. Normally around this time he would get up for his walk, but with Naruto snoring softly in bed beside him, the notion is quickly dismissed in favor of staying warm just a little longer. 

Sasuke shifts closer, pressing into the hand at his back, just to see. He’s not sure what; just to see if it’s real, to try to discern the corporeality of it- how much is his own mind making it up, lost in a mirage of wishful thinking.

Naruto lets out a soft sigh, close enough to Sasuke that he can feel it on the nape of his neck, inciting an involuntary shiver down his spine. After a moment, Naruto’s hand shifts mindlessly, turning over to press his palm flat against his back, just at the swell of his ribcage, like his body, even dead asleep, yearns for more contact. 

Sasuke closes his eyes, trying to keep his breaths steady and slow, desperate to feel this feeling just a little bit longer without having to name it. 

Even after the war, for the two years he was imprisoned in the village, they never did this.

Perhaps they could have. Under the cover of night, Sasuke could have crept through the window of Naruto’s apartment and slipped into his bed. Naruto would have let him. But then again Naruto was never the limiting factor; it was Sasuke who wouldn’t allow it. Too proud to be someone’s secret but too self aware to believe there was a place for him in Naruto’s life that was anything but that. 

He thinks of them as they are now; far from the eyes of Konoha, released from their roles of prisoner and keeper. Now, they are just themselves. They are Naruto and Sasuke, lying side by side in bed together. And Sasuke wonders if it’s really so wrong to want something so simple. After everything that’s happened, is it selfish? Is it unreasonable? The biggest question, the most real, honest question is: can he help himself? 

He hears an intake of breath behind him and the rustle of sheets. It’s quiet for a moment, and Sasuke wonders if Naruto is going to retract his hand. 

“Sasuke?” his voice comes out as a muffled croak, evidently still half asleep. “You awake?” Naruto asks quietly when Sasuke doesn’t respond, pulling at Sasuke’s side as if trying to turn him over. 

Sasuke follows the motion, rolling until he faces Naruto as his hand retracts thoughtlessly, rubbing at his eyes.

“Time is it?” He mumbles as he settles down, looking at Sasuke blearily.

“Do you always ask so many questions this early in the morning?” Sasuke grumbles, pulling the covers up to his mouth. 

“Only when I want to annoy the person I wake up next to,” Naruto chuckles, able to conjure charisma even when half asleep much to Sasuke’s annoyance. 

Sasuke raises an eyebrow and Naruto shoots him a lopsided smile before he turns over onto his back and sighs.

“I should probably get going,” he stretches his arms over his head, arching his back a little, dragging his shirt- Sasuke’s shirt- up over the soft skin of his belly. Sasuke swallows and turns over onto his back too, just for something to do other than stare at him or do something ill advised like touch him. “I kind of left as soon as I got your letter,” Naruto settles back in for a moment. “Kakashi probably isn’t going to be thrilled that I ducked out in the middle of the week.”

“What?” Sasuke jerks upright. “You idiot, why would you do that?”

Naruto shuffles up onto his elbows, looking entirely unperturbed. “Come on, Sasuke. I hadn’t heard from you in nine months and I finally get a letter with your address on it. What was I supposed to do?”

Sasuke presses his fingers into his eyes for a moment before gesturing vaguely at Naruto. “Not drop all your responsibilities with no warning!” he snaps, in disbelief about how obtuse Naruto could still be. “You’re supposed to become Hokage, don’t you think people are going to notice if you start acting erratically? Did you even tell them why you left?”

Naruto shrugs. “I left Kakashi a note saying I was going to see you and that I'd be back in a day or so.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead. He should have anticipated this, because he knows Naruto. Maybe somewhere in his mind he did know, and he sent the letter anyway, selfishly choosing not to think about the repercussions. Maybe he shouldn’t have. 

“Hey, hey, Sasuke,” Naruto sits up abruptly, reaching out to touch Sasuke’s knee over the blankets, and when Sasuke meets his eyes, he’s smiling softly.  “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop. It’s okay, they’ll be fine without me. Besides, they know what you mean to me, they’ll understand.”

“They’ll understand? Naruto, you-” Sasuke trails off. Naruto of all people should understand that they won’t understand. Konoha is built upon the very principle of choosing it over all else, and there’s not a chance that anyone who lives there, including Kakashi, would see Naruto dropping it all to see Sasuke, as anything other than a radical betrayal.

Naruto slides off the bed, standing and pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion before he rummages around for his own clothes. 

“Don’t you think you’re sending the wrong message?” Sasuke presses, unable to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice. 

“No,” Naruto zips his pants and shakes out his jacket before he pulls it on before turning back to him. “It’s my life, Sasuke. I’m not twelve years old anymore. If the message I sent them by coming here is that I have priorities other than just becoming Hokage, then maybe it was the right message.” 

Sasuke stares at him, and as far as responses are concerned, he comes up completely dry. There’s no changing his mind, no convincing him, no malleability to his resolve. He speaks and Sasuke knows that it’s the truth. 

Naruto fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket for a second, frowning down at it like he’s trying to stall. “Is that…” he looks back up at Sasuke, “is that okay?”

“Is it okay?” 

“Yeah,” Naruto gives a half shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you have any…objections?”

It dawns on Sasuke that what he’s really asking is can I care about you? Is it allowed? Will you take it as a threat?

“I don’t,” he answers without thinking. 

“Good,” Naruto huffs, a small smile gracing his face. “I should go,” he adds without moving, and Sasuke realizes he’s waiting to be walked out. With a deep breath, he pulls himself out of bed. 

At the gate, Naruto lingers, like the pull of his responsibilities are not quite strong enough to detach him just yet. 

Sasuke looks at him for a moment. This is where he should push Naruto away, keep him at arm's length like he always has. But he thinks about Naruto’s hand in his, and the way their shoulders brushed, and the weight of his palm against his side. He thinks about his smile, and the way he listens, and the way he talked to Atsuko. He thinks about the way Naruto hugged him at the gate, the way he was sure.

The truth is that Sasuke is also sure. He’s sure that he wants Naruto to be next to him. He’s sure that Naruto’s one of the only truly good things he’s ever had the privilege to witness in his lifetime. He’s sure that when they’re together he feels a rightness, like magnetic poles finally orienting in tandem. 

It’s never been Naruto he wasn’t sure about. It’s everything else; it’s him and his effect on the things around him, it’s fear and the intense feeling of unworthiness, it’s responsibility and expectations. But when all is said and done, he can’t help himself. 

“You can come back,” he says. “I’ll be here.” Naruto grins so wide that Sasuke feels heat rise in his cheeks before he glances away. “Just don’t duck out in the middle of the week, I don’t want the Hokage breaking down my door looking for you.” 

Naruto laughs, “Fine, fine, I’ll do my best. Please tell Atsuko and Genji I say thank you.”

Sasuke nods. It’s time for him to go, already six by now. Probably a few hours' journey back to Konoha. 

“Well,” Naruto trails off, looking helplessly at Sasuke. 

Sasuke looks back at him and smiles. “I’ll see you soon.”

Naruto nods. “See you soon.”

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun casts the trees and grass around Hikari and Sasuke in a golden hue, bringing with it a gentle rustling breeze that feels nice after spending much of the afternoon in the backyard garden. 

Sasuke stands beside Hikari, who is crouched by the freshly fertilized soil that looks rich and promising as a place where flowers could grow. At this point in the project, there’s little else he can do but stand there and hold the pile of wooden stakes while she grabs them one by one, drives them into the dirt, and ties them together, creating the makeshift perimeter around the flower bed. 

As she ties the last two stakes together, she sits back on her heels and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, letting out a heavy breath as she looks over her work before she grins up at Sasuke. 

“You really got the easy end of the bargain here, Sasuke,” she chuckles, standing up.

“One of the many benefits of missing an arm,” he replies drily, setting the leftover stakes down by the edge of the flower bed. 

Hikari lets out a laugh as she brushes her hands off on her pants. “So what, just need that netting over the top for the crows? Should we scatter the seeds first?” she asks, taking off her gloves and stuffing them in her back pocket before beginning to retie her hair after it’s gone frizzy from the sweat.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Atsuko will want to help.”

She nods decisively, “We’ll wait then. I can come back in the next few days when Genji’s feeling better and we can do it all together.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“What flowers did you all decide on?” 

Sasuke fishes around in his pocket for a moment, pulling out the packets and handing them to Hikari before he wanders over to the porch to drink some of his water. After a moment, she joins him, leaning against the edge of the porch, indexing through the seed packets. 

“Genji picked out the petunias and zinnias?” 

Sasuke frowns, looking down at the packets. There is no notation to indicate who picked which, but he remembers. 

“How’d you know?”

A small smile spreads on Hikari’s face, but it’s muted like spun sugar thrust under the kitchen faucet, swirling down the drain pale pink, only an echo of its previous vividness.

“He and Reiji used to have them in the garden when we were kids.” Hikari exhales and it feels like the release of pressure from a chamber. An attempt to regain equilibrium. 

He could just let it go, pretend he knows who that is and let the conversation fade without involving himself in the affairs of other people, but he’s standing there in Genji’s clothes after working all afternoon to make this garden for him and Atsuko, and frankly it’s too late to pretend he isn’t already involved. 

“Who’s Reiji?” he asks against his better judgment. 

Hikari looks up at him, a frown forming on her face as she peers at him like she’s trying to discern if he’s being serious. 

“Genji hasn’t…” she slowly puts the seed packets down on the porch, “he hasn’t told you?”

“Evidently not,” Sasuke replies, shifting uncomfortably under the tension. 

Hikari presses her lips together and looks back out at the garden for a long moment before she shakes her head.

“Reiji was his son,” she says finally, her eyes unfocussed and dull as she stares straight forward. “Passed away damn near a decade ago, back when we were kids, but-” she swallows, giving a half-formed shrug, “you know. Some things you never heal from.”

Sasuke’s hand tenses and he shoves it into his pocket just for something to release the pressure. 

“I see,” he replies, for a lack of anything better to say. Sasuke thinks of the flower bed before they tended to it; dirt packed in and covered in a tangle of weeds, like it hadn’t been touched for years. Like a wound that had been left untreated and had scarred over into something ugly, so that no one could forget what had happened there. Like a grave that hadn’t been visited since the ashes had been placed. “How did he-”

Hikari’s fingers dig into her forearms and she lets out a sharp breath. “An accident,” she replies, voice tight. “Look I probably shouldn’t- It’s not really my story to tell, you know?”

Sasuke nods stiffly, looking away from Hikari’s profile and following her gaze into the middle distance in a vain attempt to take a step away without moving at all, like it’ll give her the space she needs. 

“You should ask Genji about it,” Hikari sighs. “I think it’d be good for him to talk about Reiji. Ever since then, it’s like he just wants to pretend he never existed at all. Sometimes I think he forgets that he wasn’t the only one who lost somebody.” 

Sasuke understands. Sometimes things hurt so much that it feels like the only option is to let them fester and rot, like somehow that will be less painful than the unimaginable agony of washing them clean. Sometimes it’s easier to cut things off, to separate them from yourself in a futile attempt to save what’s left. 

But the thing about loss is that it lives in your blood. By the time it hurts, it’s too late; the infection has already taken to your body in ways that are inseparable from you. There is no excision that will stop it while leaving you intact. 

For a few minutes, they stand there in silence, just staring out at the flower bed. The trees rustle softly with the breeze, shifting the patches of sun on the grass like the distortion of light through water. 

He thinks of the sadness that lurks in Genji’s eyes like a creature in the shadows, invisible except for the flash of glowing eyes when light hits it just right. It is not the look of someone who has forgotten, but rather it is the look of someone who is holding so tightly to something that it cannot be shown to anybody else. It is a clutching that consumes the object being held until it grows to be part of you, like a tree growing around a knife sunken into its trunk. 

He looks at the garden, and he thinks that there are worse ways to cling to something. 

Before he can consider it further, he is pulled from his thoughts by the squeak of the rusted gate. He and Hikari both turn towards the sound, only to see a blonde head of hair pop through cautiously.

“Hey, no one answered the door and I remembered that you said you’d be working in the back today,” calls Naruto’s raspy voice as he struggles with the gate a little bit before forcing it shut with a loud screech. “Anyway, hope it’s okay that I just came back, I-”

He turns around and trails off, eyebrows raised as he takes in Sasuke and Hikari. “Oh, sorry-”

Sasuke clears his throat, trying to shake off the overwhelming heaviness of the last few minutes, hoping that Naruto can’t feel it. “We were just finishing up,” he says as Naruto smiles and walks closer, pack slung over his shoulder. 

Hikari stands up a little straighter, visibly pulling herself together before she smiles back at him and turns to Sasuke. 

“You should have told me you were having company,” she says with a grin that mostly covers up the tension in her face, “I would have waited and made him do all the hard stuff.”

Naruto laughs easily, hitching his pack a little higher on his shoulder to offer Hikari his human hand. “Looks like my timing was perfect then,” he smiles as Hikari shakes his hand firmly, “I’m Naruto, good to meet you.”

“Hikari,” she replies, her smile a little less forced this time, not immune to Naruto’s infectious positivity. “Didn’t know Sasuke here had other friends, good to see proof he can socialize,” she lets go of Naruto’s hand and glances at Sasuke. 

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Naruto chuckles, catching Sasuke’s eye with a teasing expression that is dyed with something undeniably fond. “I just showed up one day and he couldn’t get rid of me, so we can’t really credit him with socializing.”

Hikari laughs and Sasuke rolls his eyes in a show of annoyance that he can barely find within himself, too focused on the way Naruto is looking at him still, smile softened into something too private for the moment.

There’s a beat of silence before Sasuke glances at Hikari, disturbed to find her already looking at him with a curious expression on her face. He clears his throat and pushes off the deck, reaching up to retie his hair just for something to do with himself. 

Naruto finally drops his gaze, looking around for a moment. “Hey, where’s Genji?”

“He’s not feeling well,” Sasuke replies, picking the flower packets up and shoving them back in his pocket. “Had to set up the nets without him so the soil could settle. It’s supposed to rain in the next few days.”

Naruto gives an approving nod as he glances over at the flower bed.

“So, how long are you here for, Naruto?” Hikari changes the subject, glancing between Naruto and Sasuke.

If Naruto notices her obvious staring, he doesn’t mention it, only shrugging. “I have to head back to work on Monday, but I was planning on staying until Sunday,” he glances at Sasuke, “if that’s okay.”

Sasuke swallows, forcing himself not to fidget under his regard. “Yeah, that's-” he clears his throat. “That’s fine.”

“Well, hey,” Hikari says, pulling them from looking at each other, “if you don’t have plans tonight, you should come to mine for dinner. Bring Genji and Atsuko, too. You know my mom would love to see you all.”

Sasuke opens his mouth to say something noncommittal, but before he can, Naruto interrupts him. 

“That sounds like fun! I’d love to meet more of Sasuke’s friends,” he beams expectantly at Sasuke.

Hikari turns to look at him too, a smug grin on her face. “Great! Now Sasuke has to come, this is perfect.”

Unable to think of a real, legitimate reason to say no, Sasuke concedes.

There’s enough time for Naruto to get settled and for Atsuko to unwind a little after daycare, now both sitting on the couch as Naruto listens patiently to her reading one of her books to him as Sasuke comes out of his room, showered and changed, cane in hand for the walk.

Genji is conspicuously missing from the picture and Sasuke frowns, walking over to his door and knocking.

“Come in,” Genji’s muffled voice calls out, and Sasuke opens the door. 

The room is dim, setting sun only barely casting a diluted light through the far window. Genji is still in bed.

“You aren’t coming?” Sasuke asks, standing a respectful distance away. 

Genji sits up a little. He looks exhausted, but he smiles nonetheless. 

“Nah, I’m really too tired,” he waves Sasuke off. “I’ll just slow you kids down.”

Sasuke presses his lips together, fidgeting before he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“I can stay,” he offers. “Or we can go another time, it’s really not that important.”

Genji chuckles before it morphs into a cough. “Don’t talk nonsense,” he shakes his head like he’s scolding Sasuke. “You go to dinner at Hikari’s and you have a good time, alright? Spend some time with your friend and don’t worry about me.”

Sasuke says nothing for a moment and Genji smiles, reaching out to pat Sasuke’s knee. “You never get out of this house for fun, kid. It’ll do you good. Just go and then when you get back you can tell me all about it, yeah?”

Sasuke sighs, recognizing when he’s lost the battle. He nods. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Sasuke.”

___

By the time they reach Hikari’s farm, the sun has set, only leaving a faint purple hue in the sky as they walk down the long dirt road to the house.

It’s much bigger than Genji’s, farmland stretching out for acres in every direction, neatly sectioned off into pastures for the many animals that live there who are now settling in for the night, lazily grazing near the house in the mild May evening. 

As Sasuke looks at the house itself, warm yellow lights spilling through the windows into the inky dusk, he thinks of the house at the top of the hill in Earth Country. It had the very same windows, the same warmth, like there was unquestionable safety within its walls. Like there was safety even in looking at it from the outside. 

He wonders how they’re doing. He wonders if they’d forgive him for leaving without saying goodbye. He wonders if Hisoki understood why he couldn’t stay. 

“Sasuke?” Naruto’s raspy voice filters through his thoughts and he turns to him. “You okay?”

He blinks, shaking himself out of it before he nods and they walk up the steps and knock on the door. 

He can hear the sounds of people moving around inside; muffled voices, running water, the sound of dishes clattering, all sharpened as the door swings open revealing a little old lady. 

“Well look who finally decided to show up,” Mayumi croaks out, stepping stiffly out of the doorway, gnarled hands beckoning them to take off their shoes and come inside. “Come, come, dinner is almost ready.”

Dutifully, Sasuke leads the way, toeing off his shoes and giving her a respectful bow before he places his cane beside them and offers Atsuko his arm to steady her while she takes off her own shoes, Naruto doing the same. 

He watches Naruto still for a split second as he takes in Mayumi in her traditional Land of Water garb, and he knows that he’s thinking of that day on the bridge when they watched Haku die, but as soon as it comes, it goes.

“Where are your manners, boy? Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Mayumi gripes at him as she shuffles a little further in, nodding towards Naruto in a motion that looks strange with her back curled in like a shrimp. 

Sasuke clears his throat, glancing at Naruto. “Hatanaka Mayumi, this is Uzumaki Naruto,” Sasuke indulges her, watching as Naruto gives a respectful bow just as he had. 

“Good to meet you, ma’am,” Naruto gives her his biggest smile and Sasuke has to hold himself from rolling his eyes at how thick he’s laying it on. 

“Call me granny,” Mayumi immediately replies in a contradictory tone, despite the words themselves being kind. 

Atsuko shrinks behind Sasuke, holding onto his pant leg as if the barrier will keep her from Mayumi’s abrasiveness. 

“Yes, granny,” Naruto smiles at her and she gives a satisfied nod. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” Mayumi mutters, turning to hobble slowly down the hallway.

Sasuke looks down at Atsuko, who is already giving him an unsure look, but he only offers her a small smile and hesitantly places his hand on her head like he’s seen Genji do, which seems to calm her down well enough. He exchanges a look with Naruto and they follow her in. 

The house is just as warm as it looks from the outside, a little humid from the cooking, but pleasant and fragrant. It looks lived in, wear patterns everywhere that they eye rests; worn down wood stain in the hallway where people have stepped every day for decades, dents in the couches from where people sit, marks on the door jam into the kitchen where various heights have been recorded over the years. It’s clear that no effort has been put into covering these things up, but Sasuke likes it. He likes that it’s allowed to be what it is; a home where people exist. A place where people live their lives with the marks to show for it.

“Is that Sasuke?” Hikari calls out from somewhere upstairs before distantly he hears the sound of her coming down to meet them, popping up behind them.

“Glad you all made it,” she beams, artfully not bringing up the fact that Genji is conspicuously absent, smart enough to put the pieces together on her own. 

Without fanfare, she ushers them into the kitchen where Kenshin is standing at the stove in an apron, cooking something in the pan. He glances at them, offering a small wave that Sasuke returns. 

“Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Kenshin says softly over his shoulder. 

“Do you want something to drink in the meantime?” Hikari asks, opening up the fridge and surveying its contents. “We have normal drinks and fun drinks.”

Atsuko perks up at that, stepping forward but not releasing her grip on Sasuke. “What fun drinks?”

Hikari grins at her. “Well why don’t you come look and we can find you something?”

Atsuko only hesitates for a second before she wanders over, still timid but obviously curious enough for it to be overridden by the promise of a treat. 

As Hikari lists the frankly impressive number of juices that they have in stock, she shoots Sasuke a smile over Atsuko’s head before reaching into the fridge to pick out what looks to be beer and giving him and Naruto a questioning look. 

To Sasuke’s surprise, from where he stands beside him he sees Naruto give her a confident nod to which she chuckles and hands him the beer over Atsuko’s head.

“There’s cups in the cabinet if you want them,” she says as Atsuko debates between two kinds of juices very seriously, standing in the open fridge. 

Naruto waves her off, “Nah, I’m easy. I’ll just take it like this.”

Sasuke watches him from where he’s leaning on the wall as he fishes around in his pocket for a moment before taking out his keys and easily opening the bottle with the edge of one, catching the cap in his other hand before shoving them back in his pocket and taking a sip.

Sasuke raises an eyebrow as Naruto catches his eye and swallows.

“Well practiced, are we?” Sasuke says lowly, the edge of his mouth ticking up as he looks at Naruto. 

Naruto shrugs, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his beer as a grin spreads over his face. “I dabble.”

Sasuke huffs a laugh, shoving his hand into his own pocket and resenting the fact that he can no longer cross his arms. 

Naruto bites his lip for a second, like he’s trying to temper the bright smile on his face before he glances away from Sasuke over to where Atsuko is vigilantly watching Hikari pour her whatever juice she had finally landed on. 

Sasuke lets his eyes rest on Naruto. He really is undeniably handsome. He’s always been, but now he holds it more confidently, like a well crafted jacket that only now fits him just right. It’s effortless, not in the way that it is for someone who has no idea what they look like, but in the way someone who knows and yet does not feel it heavy. 

Without thinking, Sasuke reaches for the beer in his hand, his fingers brushing over Naruto’s. Instantly, he turns to look down at the touch before meeting Sasuke’s eyes. 

Wordlessly, Sasuke grasps the beer and pulls it from his hand before bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull. 

Sasuke hasn’t had a lot of alcohol in his life- too young and then too poor and now simply unmotivated, but he doesn’t mind it, the bitter fizz goes down easily enough. As he swallows, he tears his eyes from Naruto’s, glancing down at the label as if it means jack shit to him, just for an excuse to break the tension. 

After a moment, he hands the bottle back to Naruto who takes it a little dazedly, eyes not leaving Sasuke for a second.

“Good?” he asks, voice lower than it had been before.

“It’s alright.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hikari cuts in, amusement in her voice that Sasuke refuses to blush at, “you want to come help cut these carrots, or should we just leave you to it?”

Naruto laughs good naturedly, just a little higher than is convincingly natural, as he mock-stretches out his shoulders and moves from his spot beside Sasuke. 

“Hikari, I was born ready,” he declares, taking the cutting board and knife from her. 

Hikari laughs and hands the rest of the carrots to Sasuke along with a peeler. 

“Can I help?” Atsuko puts her cup up on the table beside where Sasuke takes a seat and climbs into the chair next to him. 

“Sure,” Sasuke looks at the state of affairs. “Can you reach?”

Atsuko stretches out her hands as far as they can go, but she’s still too short to really sit at this table without any kind of booster. 

“Here,” he says after a moment, “do you want to sit on my lap so you don’t fall out of that chair?”

Atsuko smiles and nods at him before climbing over his legs so she’s perched between him and the table.

“Alright, can you see now?”

Atsuko nods enthusiastically, reaching her hands as if to be absolutely certain and finding it satisfactory.

Not willing to risk her fingers on the knife, Sasuke picks up the peeler instead. 

He looks over her shoulder as he shows her how to properly hold it, how to peel away from herself, how to keep her fingers out of the way. She listens intently, grasping his forearm for balance. 

It’s slow going at first, but after a while she gets the hang of it, letting Sasuke hold the carrots while she focuses on peeling them and handing them to Naruto when she’s done. 

After a few, Sasuke glances at Naruto, noticing that the chopping had stopped, only to find him already looking at the two of them. 

“What is it?” Sasuke tries to snap, but it comes out soft.

Naruto shakes his head, going back to chopping the carrot into some of the most uneven pieces Sasuke has ever seen. 

Sasuke huffs, turning back to what he’s doing. “Those look terrible, Naruto,” he mutters, fighting to keep the smile off his face. 

Naruto laughs, “Hey, don’t you know that looks aren’t everything?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, but after a beat when Naruto’s ankle comes to rest against his under the table, he can’t stop his lips from twitching up.

It’s not long before dinner is ready. They all crowd around the small dining room table, wood worn with water stains and clearly well used, just like everything else, making it absolutely clear that people have sat around this table hundreds of times before them, making no effort to stop the dishes from staining it further. 

Several delicious dishes are set out around them, fragrant steam wafting up making Sasuke’s mouth water as they lapse into comfortable, light conversation while the food is passed around. 

He doesn’t participate much, instead assisting Atsuko with each dish, describing it when she isn’t familiar with it, and spooning out what she wants, which is most of the dishes considering she isn’t much of a picky eater. 

After a while, they settle into eating and Sasuke simply listens to the discussions happening around him, sometimes tuning out when he starts to lose interest.

It’s strange to be there. Sasuke realizes after a moment of consideration that he’s not sure he’s ever been to a dinner party, or anything even remotely close to one. He’s eaten with other people out of necessity, of course, but it’s never been like this, just for the sake of doing it. 

It almost feels like he’s watching a scene from another life. He looks at where Naruto’s hand rests loose around his beer, and for a moment he thinks that if he looked up at his face, it wouldn’t be Naruto. It’d be someone he didn’t recognize, someone he’d never met before. If he looked in the mirror, it would be the same.

“Have you thought about that, Sasuke?” Kenshin’s voice filters into Sasuke’s thoughts and he pulls himself back to the moment. 

Sasuke glances at Naruto, completely unsure of what they’d just been talking about.

“School for Atsuko?” Naruto prompts, eyebrows drawn together a little like he can tell Sasuke wasn’t fully with them.

“She’s getting to be that age, is all,” Kenshin continues, clearly giving Sasuke time to catch up. “Her friends will probably be going pretty soon.”

“Can I go too?” Atsuko asks, eyes widening as she looks at Sasuke.

Sasuke opens his mouth and closes it. His instinct is to brush it off, say that it’s really not up to him and he doesn’t know, but that isn’t really true. Not at this point. 

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Your reading has improved a lot. I think you should be ready soon.”

Atsuko beams at him before turning to Kenshin. 

“We’ve been reading together and writing,” she exclaims excitedly, “and I’m getting good, I can read books all by myself now, right?”

Sasuke nods, offering her a small smile.

“Are there good schools around here?” Naruto asks, stretching out his arm and resting it on the back of Sasuke’s chair thoughtlessly. 

Kenshin sighs, sharing a look with Hikari who shrugs. “Not really. This is a small village- we have a school, but there’s only so much they can do.”

Mayumi shakes her head, setting her chopsticks down. “I wished that you two could have gone somewhere better, but I still think it was the right thing to move here.”

“Ah, where did you move from?” Naruto asks, curiosity alway winning out over everything else.

“Lived in Konoha, west of here, for a while before moving out here when my parents started getting old.” She chuckles, raspy and labored. “That was damn near twenty five years ago, though. Now I’m the one getting old.”

Sasuke can feel his eyes widen, tension beginning to wind itself up in his body at the mention of Konoha.

“You’re from the Leaf Village?” Naruto is unsuccessful in keeping his voice neutral.

“Ah, no, no,” Mayumi waves him off. “We’re from the Land of Water, originally. Had to move away after things started to get…” she shifts a little in her seat, uselessly straightening her napkin, “unstable. Both my parents and my husband and I. Luckily, my husband was a metalworker, and Konoha is always in need of more weapons.”

It comes out with a bitterness that Sasuke can’t quite put his finger on, and in this case, he is entirely unwilling to press further on the subject. 

“Are you from the Leaf Village, Naruto?” Hikari leans forward on her elbows, food finished. 

Sasuke stills, feeling Naruto’s eyes on him and refusing to meet them. There’s something vulnerable in the reveal that Sasuke has kept himself hidden from these people, and he doesn’t want to have to see Naruto’s reaction to it.

“Yes, I am,” Naruto replies as smooth and casual as ever. 

At that, Mayumi’s eyebrows raise. “Shinobi?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Naruto smiles easily. “Granny,” he corrects after a look from her. 

Mayumi hums, steepling her hands as she looks over Naruto. “I don’t see your hitai-ate .”

“Ah,” Naruto laughs his fake, placating laugh that Sasuke is growing to dislike. “It’s dirty. Long trip from there, you know? Didn’t want to show up here looking scruffy.” He turns to Sasuke, perhaps for confirmation. Sasuke nods, backing him up despite him having the same questions that Mayumi likely does. However, he can’t deny the comfort of not being the only one at the table who is hiding. 

Judging by the look on Mayumi’s face, she clearly doesn’t buy what Naruto’s selling, but she doesn’t press.

“What’s a shinobi?” Atsuko asks after taking a sip of what’s left of her juice.

The word sounds strange coming from her mouth, like a deadly knife being used to cut hair or poison kept in a bottle right beside the jar of tea leaves. Sasuke wants to erase the sound of it’s wrongness but such a thing is impossible. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, at a loss for how to explain such a complex concept to someone so blissfully naive to it. Or even more, how to explain it to someone when he himself doesn’t have the answer, not in any way that’s honest.

“A shinobi is someone who works for their village,” he says slowly, glancing at Naruto. “They’re specially trained to fight, but they do a lot of things.”

Atsuko frowns, “Fight? Why?”

“It’s complicated,” Naruto cuts in, and for a moment Sasuke feels his stomach drop out. He looks at Naruto, ready to hear him defend the good name of the village, give the squeaky clean answer about how shinobi are the protectors of the village, the most noble people there are, the pillars of society that uphold everything right. He realizes, as he looks at him, how badly he doesn’t want to hear him speak those words. “The job of a shinobi is to do what the village asks of them,” Naruto’s voice is clear and serious. “Sometimes that’s protecting the village from people who want to hurt it, sometimes it’s making sure that people obey the law. Shinobi are trained to be tools for the village to use.”

“Why is it complicated?” Atsuko asks.

“Well,” Naruto sighs, “we aren’t just tools, right?” He picks up his chopsticks and picks up a green bean from her plate, holding it up. “The chopsticks aren’t alive. They don’t know what they’re doing when I use them to pick this up, they don’t decide anything.”

Atsuko nods, watching him closely.

“But if I asked you to take these chopsticks and steal food off of granny’s plate for me, you would have to think about it, right? What would you do?”

Atsuko glances at Mayumi hesitantly before turning back to Naruto and fisting her hands in her lap. “I don’t know,” she answers, looking at Sasuke. “Stealing is bad.”

“Good thinking,” Naruto smiles. “Being a shinobi is complicated because while your job is to do what the village tells you to do, you’re also a person just like you and me. You have to decide for yourself what’s right and wrong, and sometimes that’s really hard, especially when you’re fighting and it might hurt other people.”

Atsuko fidgets a little, playing with one of her chopsticks. “That sounds scary.”

Sasuke swallows, throat dry and tight, heart aching from her tone- the trepidation in it that he hates hearing. But at the same time, he meets Naruto’s eyes over her head and he’s met with a wave of affection so intense that it somehow aches worse than the sadness. It’s a twisting so visceral and unavoidable that it’s hard to disentangle it from any other pain. 

“It is scary,” he answers. If honesty is the route they’re taking, he can only follow. 

__

After dinner, Sasuke and Naruto attempt to help clean up, only to be swiftly shot down by Hikari, claiming that they are guests and therefore shall not lift a finger. However, when Atsuko insists on watching Kenshin do the dishes, they are unable to say no. 

She looks at Sasuke for a second, like she’s waiting for reassurance that it’s okay, until he rests his hand on her head with a smile and she takes off. 

Left momentarily to their own devices, Naruto and Sasuke wander out of the kitchen into the living room. 

It’s a cozy space, with a fireplace on the far end and plenty of places to sit, each surface well stocked with pillows and blankets to keep warm during the winter. Now, of course, all of that isn’t needed, but it speaks to the very same essence of warmth that permeates the entire house.

Sasuke doesn’t sit, instead walking around the space. The walls are covered with pictures from their lives; Hikari and Kenshin as kids, Mayumi with her parents, what looks to be a photo from a wedding, ostensibly of Mayumi and her late husband. 

There’s also other things; a framed drawing, likely done by one of the kids, of the whole family together, surrounded by farm animals, each with exaggerated smiles on their faces. An award from what looks to be some kind of school competition. Signs of life set out for all to see. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto calls out from where he’s standing at the mantle over the fireplace. He nods for him to come closer. 

Sasuke walks to stand beside him, watching as Naruto wordlessly tilts the framed photograph in his hand towards him. 

For a long moment, he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing, like his eyes aren’t used to parsing what’s before him after so long without having to. He reaches out slowly, maneuvering Naruto’s hand to bring the photograph closer, just to prove to himself that it’s really what he thinks it is. 

In the photograph is Mayumi and her husband in what must be their metalworking shop, surrounded by six or seven Uchiha.

They all smile at the camera, a few of them openly laughing, clearly not ready for the picture to be taken. One of them has his arms slung around Mayumi and her husband, another looking up at them and grinning. It’s clear that they are close, that they know each other well. And while Sasuke doesn’t recognize any of them personally, the crest on their clothes makes him feel like he’s seeing his own family. 

He’s pulled from the scene by a heavy sigh behind them, and both he and Naruto turn around to see Mayumi herself standing at the threshold of the room watching them. 

After a moment, she hobbles over slowly until she’s standing between them, gingerly taking the photo from their hands and looking at it herself. 

Sasuke watches her eyes as she studies it. It’s not hard to recognize the grief in the way they rove over their faces, the way her thumb brushes across it, dusting it off carefully like perhaps she hasn’t had the heart to do it for a long time. 

“They were good people,” she murmurs, her usually abrasive voice toned down to something soft. Vulnerable. Sasuke holds himself entirely still, afraid that any motion will make her look at him and recognize what she sees. 

Instead, she turns to Naruto expectantly, and for a second it stings. That she wouldn’t connect him with his own people, wouldn’t direct her feelings towards him who may share them feels like a slight, but he must force himself to remember that she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know him, or where he came from. She doesn’t know because he hid himself on purpose. 

Naruto swallows, catching Sasuke’s eye for a moment before he nods to Mayumi. 

“I know they were,” Naruto replies, voice reverent in a way that feels like the twist of a knife.

Mayumi looks back to the picture, wiping it off properly with her sleeve. “I’d expect they were mostly before your time,” she muses quietly, “you must have been only six or seven when everything happened, is that right?”

Naruto presses his lips together, looking down at the picture in her hands and nodding again. 

Sasuke watches her wince, like the pain she’s feeling as she looks at it is physical. Like just looking at the photo, just recalling the memory, is enough to hurt her even now. Even after twenty years. And there’s something terrifying about that- the evidence that some things never heal. 

“You know, moving from the Land of Water to a place like the Leaf Village,” Mayumi mutters, “it wasn’t easy. We were outsiders- didn’t know anyone, didn’t have anything but our little shop.” She pauses for a moment. “But they were kind to us. They…understood what we had been through.”

Sasuke’s brows draw together at that. He wants to ask what she means, but he can’t make himself speak, paralyzed by the intensity of the moment and the shock of hearing her talk about his people so easily. 

“Even after we moved here, we stayed in contact. Traded with the Uchiha Hideout not far from here,” her eyes unfocus, like she’s staring directly through the photograph, like she’s seeing something entirely different. “I still remember when they were all called back to Konoha all those years ago. Every last one of them,” a tear falls down her face and Sasuke can’t breathe. He feels like his body isn’t his own anymore. He wants to speak, or to run away, but he’s frozen. “That was the last I ever saw of them,” Mayumi breathes.

His eyes meet Naruto’s and it’s too much. It’s all too much; standing here in this living room, the grief palpable like water is pouring in from the windows, like it’s filling all around them. He can feel it splashing against the walls, he can feel it pressing against his body, he tips his head back, floating at the ceiling, angling to breath a desperate gasp of air before it fills the room entirely. He shuts his eyes, he doesn’t breathe in, he’s scared to drown. 

“Sasuke,” he hears through the water. He wants to cover his ears.

“Sasuke,” he hears again. A touch on his wrist. He opens his eyes and he moves before he can think.

He blinks again and all he sees is the expansive night sky. He breathes and he’s not underwater, he’s outside, it’s cool. It stings his lungs as he draws in sharp breaths over and over and over again. He stumbles forward until his hand meets the rough wood of a fence and he grips it tight, just to anchor himself to something.

He breathes deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, until the breaths become slow and shaky. He looks out across the field, and it’s so dark that it’s hard to tell where the trees end and the night sky begins, shapes amorphous and undefinable, but it calms him. He looks up at the tiny pinprick stars, and he breathes in the smell of grass and cows, and he lets it tie him back to the dock. 

Sasuke’s forehead bows until it rests against the wood of the fence, and instantly he feels exhausted, like all the energy he had was burned up and dissolved into the atmosphere like smoke. He sinks to the ground, knees landing in the soft grass, hand sliding down the rough wood.

With great effort, he turns around, letting his back land roughly against the fence post, his head lolling back against it as he stretches his legs out in front of him. 

The grass is wet, but he doesn’t care. He lets his fingers sink into it until he hears the crisp sound of it ripping. He breathes in and out until he feels like himself again. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, with only the sound of the wind in the trees to fill his mind, before it is accompanied by a rustling in the grass and a pressure at his shoulder. 

Sasuke startles, jerking away, heart leaping into his throat, before he’s met with two enormous glassy eyes staring right back at him from the other side of the fence. He breathes out sharply before untensing as the cow startles back, clearly surprised at his reaction. 

He takes a second, slower breath, and reaches out a tentative hand to the animal without thought. The cow blinks at him for a moment before hesitantly stepping forward and inspecting his hand carefully with her wide, wet nose.

Sasuke can feel his heart slow as the animal comes closer, looking for food in his hand before deciding that there isn’t any. 

She doesn’t go far, though, and slowly, Sasuke moves his hand to the soft hair of her nose, sliding up further when he’s met with no protest. 

He can’t help but smile softly at the peaceful expression on the cow’s face as he moves his hand in methodical strokes over her forehead, scratching an ear every once in a while, completely content to just sit there with him for as long as he’ll keep touching her. 

Behind him he hears the soft hiss of footsteps against the grass, and he doesn’t have to turn around to see who it is, not moving as Naruto crouches down to take a seat next to him. 

For a few minutes, no words are exchanged, Naruto just watching him quietly. 

After a while, he reaches out his own hand for the cow to sniff, jerking back a little when she touches him with her cool nose. 

Sasuke huffs, reaching out for Naruto’s hand and placing it gently on the soft part of her snout, leaving his own hand on top and stroking upwards before he releases him, letting him do it on his own. 

Naruto tentatively continues to pet her, hands soft and slow, like he’s equal parts cautious of frightening the cow and frightened himself, but his expression is relaxed and Sasuke lets out a slow exhale. 

“Did I scare Mayumi?” he asks into the quiet space around them. 

“Nah,” Naruto shakes his head, not looking away from the cow, “she was just worried about you, that’s all.”

Sasuke lets himself slouch, and it makes him feel young. Like he’s just thrown a tantrum and is hiding in his room. 

“I’m a mess,” he murmurs, reaching out to pick at the blades of grass in front of him just for something to occupy his hands. 

“You aren’t,” Naruto says firmly, finally looking at him. “That would have set off anybody in your shoes.”

Sasuke looks out across the field again, letting his eyes unfocus. Unsure of any response that would really say what he wants to say, so instead staying silent. 

“So you haven’t told them who you are?” Naruto asks, and though it sounds like a question, Sasuke knows that it isn’t.

“No,” he replies simply. 

Part of him wants to deny Naruto an explanation, snap at him to stay out of his business and shut himself away like he knows he can, but he thinks of the wall of pictures in the house, he thinks of the marked heights on the door jam, he thinks of the way Mayumi looked at Naruto instead of him when talking about his own clan, and he doesn’t want to hide anymore. 

He meets Naruto’s eyes in the dark blue of the night, looking at him with the clear, fond expression he seems to reserve only for Sasuke, and he feels the pull of honesty. He feels the desire to be transparent, to unfurl, to let himself really be seen and trust that it will not change the way Naruto looks at him. 

And if it does change things, if Naruto sees the soft skin of his belly and all he sees is a vulnerable place to wound him, then better to know now than when the exposition is not his choice. 

“I feel human here,” Sasuke finally breathes. He doesn’t look at Naruto. He can’t stand to see what he finds there. “They treat me like I’m human, or maybe they remind me that I always was.”

Silence falls around them again, just the distant creak of the windmill on the top of the house and the rustle of wind in the forest. Naruto doesn’t speak.

“If they learned who I am and what I’ve done- if they realized that I’m just a monster playing house,” Sasuke breathes out as steadily as he can, trying desperately to keep his voice even. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“You aren’t a monster, Sasuke.” Naruto’s voice is firm and sure, like he doesn’t even consider it a possibility, like the very notion is ridiculous to him. 

“No?” Sasuke says, and it should sound defensive but it comes out like a real question. “Are you really so naive to think that if they knew all the lives I’ve taken, all the damage and pain I’ve caused, that they would see me the same?”

Naruto breathes out slowly, hand dropping from the cow’s nose. From his periphery, Sasuke can feel his eyes on him, but he doesn’t look back. 

“I was there, Sasuke. I’m not some stranger that doesn’t know what your life has been like,” Naruto insists, tone almost indignant, like he can’t believe he’s having to say it. “And you know what? I think you were put through unimaginable suffering and you did what you had to to survive it. You aren’t a monster for reacting the way you did to what happened to you and your people.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Sasuke replies with a shake of his head. 

“They aren’t excuses!” For the first time, Naruto’s voice raises, just a little, like the first raindrops falling on a mirrored lake. A disturbance of the stillness. “I’m so sick of everyone saying that. It’s not an excuse, it’s- it’s the truth. You were in pain, and no one was helping you, and you did what you thought you had to do to keep living, what’s so fucking hard to understand about that? Why is it so easy for people to forget that we’re human?”

Sasuke turns to look at Naruto, too stunned by his outburst to stop himself. He’s faced towards the field, brow furrowed and the tension in his neck is visible even from where Sasuke’s sitting. 

Naruto takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself down. “My- my point is that you aren’t a monster. There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling the way you felt and doing what you did after everything that happened. Your history is a part of you, and people who really love you-” Naruto swallows, throat catching on the words. “The people who really love you will take the time to understand you, even the parts that are hard to look at.”

Finally, Naruto meets his eyes and Sasuke studies him. His face is as honest and open as ever, an edge of desperation coloring it, like he’s scared Sasuke won’t believe him.

The thing is, though, that he does believe him. Naruto speaks in circles about love like he’s worried that if he says it directly Sasuke will disappear into a cloud of smoke before his eyes, but Sasuke knows what he means. He can read the expression on his face and listen to his words and hear that what he’s saying is I see you. I love you enough to see you and not find you ugly. 

He sits there in the grass, and he thinks perhaps for the first time that maybe it isn’t some delusion. Maybe it isn’t some elaborate trick that he’s played on Naruto, or some irrational bias that twists Naruto’s views of him into something completely distorted like a funhouse mirror. Maybe it’s not something inherently different about Naruto that makes him see the good in Sasuke. 

Sasuke has always wanted proof. He’s always wanted to hold the truth in his hands like a living breathing animal, something irrefutable and unavoidable. But perhaps that isn’t the nature of truth. Perhaps it isn’t something you can feel the mass of, or the exact dimension. Perhaps it is something that takes shape slowly, like the forming of a canyon with thousands of years of rain. 

Sasuke huffs and shakes his head, looking away again from the intensity in Naruto’s eyes, letting the landscape soothe him. “You’ve always been so sure of me,” he breathes. “I just don’t understand it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and he wonders if Naruto is tired of explaining himself. After all this time, it feels like he’s been waiting for Sasuke to finally catch up to him, finally find where he is on the page, painstakingly articulating himself whenever he asks. But even still, even with all the ways Sasuke understands him, in this he finds himself lost. 

“I haven’t always been sure,” Naruto says softly, like he wants to leave the water smooth, doesn’t want to break the surface tension. “It took me years of knowing you, observing you, seeing who you were. The way I feel didn’t come from nowhere, it isn’t some random conclusion I came to just after meeting you. I know that you’re not a monster because I know you.”

Sasuke meets Naruto’s eyes and just looks, wondering if perhaps it’s time to resign himself to the fact that this is something he can no longer deny. 

“You know me,” he says back, not looking away this time, “even now?” Even after he’s been gone from the village for over a year? Even after he’s been sanded down to something almost unrecognizable from his former self?

“Even now,” Naruto replies, even and sure. Absolute. “You said it yourself, remember?”

Sasuke frowns, shaking his head minutely.

Naruto smiles, small enough that if Sasuke weren’t looking at him so intently, he wouldn’t have seen it, but like this, scrutinizing every detail of Naruto’s expressions, he couldn’t miss it. 

“I know your heart, and you, mine,” Naruto murmurs with a fondness so raw that it feels like he’s opening a vein right there on the field just to show Sasuke that he still bleeds red.

“Sasuke?” Atsuko calls from behind them.

He turns only to see Atsuko walking out of the house, Hikari following right behind her. 

Taking a deep breath, Sasuke tries to pull himself together before offering a small wave, not confident in the evenness of his voice. 

Atsuko runs through the grass until she launches herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. 

Sasuke’s eyes widen and he stills, completely unsure what to do with the sudden affection. He looks at Naruto over her shoulder, being met with a soft smile and a huff of laughter. 

After a moment, stiffly, he wraps his arm around her back, holding her close against his chest, trying to relax. Atsuko likes to be close, seems to derive comfort from physical affection, but he realizes in the moment that she’s never hugged him before. 

“I didn’t know where you were,” she mumbles into his shoulder, concern clear in her voice. “Granny said you weren’t feeling good.”

Sasuke breathes out slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going,” he murmurs back. 

“I thought you left,” Atsuko replies, voice a little shaky now that he’s listening more carefully. He applies more pressure, a reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere. 

“I wouldn’t leave,” he says slowly. “I just needed some space.”

Atsuko pulls away a little, still holding herself steady on his shoulder as she rubs at her eyes. “You wouldn’t?”

“No,” he says firmly, catching her eyes in an attempt to convey that he means it. 

“Why did you need to be alone?”

Sasuke feels Hikari’s gaze on him, and he could lie, make something up about feeling sick, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. If Hikari puts two and two together, maybe that’s just how it’ll have to be. 

“I was overwhelmed,” he replies honestly. 

Atsuko’s eyebrows draw together, her head tilting to the side inquisitively. “Overwhelmed, why?”

“Something we were talking about with granny made me feel sad,” he says as clearly as he can, catching Naruto’s eyes again. It’s a little shocking how much they put him at ease, like a balm over a sunburn, letting him breathe a sigh of relief. 

“What was it?” 

“I’ll tell you some other time, okay?” 

Her frown deepens. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Atsuko-” Hikari tries to cut in, but Sasuke shakes his head and she holds her tongue. 

Sasuke looks at Atsuko for a long moment trying to find the words to explain himself. She looks right back at him, saying nothing.

“Remember when you skinned your knee?” 

Atsuko nods slowly, chewing on her finger absentmindedly as she watches him. 

“Remember how we sat together for a while before we started to clean it?”

She nods again.

“It’s like that,” he says. “Sometimes you have to wait for it to stop hurting before you can take care of it. You cried, didn’t it feel better after that? Was it easier to wash it out?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly. “Then you carried me inside and that helped, too.”

Sasuke nods. “Sometimes sadness is like that too. You have to wait for it to hurt a little less before you can do anything about it.”

She nods contemplatively. “Okay. And then after you talk about it you’ll feel even better?”

Sasuke gives her a brittle smile, “We will see.” 

As they say their goodbyes and thank yous, Sasuke expects to feel the stiffness of heavy scrutiny, but he doesn’t. 

Mayumi pats his shoulder and hands him food to take home. Kenshin smiles and tells him he’ll see him Monday when he drops off Atsuko. He can tell there are questions in their minds. Concern, even. But not pity. The way they look at him is still made from the same stock it always is, and something about that calms him. 

Hikari walks them out, saying her goodbyes to Naruto and Atsuko, waving at them as they begin to make their way down the path before she catches Sasuke’s elbow, holding him there. 

“Listen, I know we don’t-” she pauses, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she studies Sasuke before she exhales sharply. “We don’t talk about the past. And I’ll respect that, if you want me to. I’m not going to ask.”

She lets go of his arm, almost in a show of goodwill, like she wants to demonstrate his freedom to him. 

“But if you ever want to talk,” she shrugs helplessly, a casual motion for what is likely their most serious conversation. “I would listen.”

Sasuke looks at her, the imploring look on her face, the real, authentic gesture that she extends to him despite hardly knowing anything real about him at all, and it feels false, somehow. 

“Why?” he can’t stop himself from asking. 

Hikari frowns at him, narrowing her eyes like she really can’t understand why he’d ask that. 

“You’re my friend,” she answers, matter of fact. 

Sasuke’s friendships, such as they were, have been complicated. With Naruto, the person he would consider to be his best friend, there was always a bitter component of desire that turned it into something else. With Team Taka, they were more like co-workers, or people who stuck together for no reason other than survival. There was always a distance between them that Sasuke could say in retrospect was something that he put there himself. 

Other than that, there weren’t many people he could call his friends. He’s surprised at the warmth it brings, to hear Hikari so confidently call him by the title. 

“Aren’t you?” Hikari prods again, eyebrow raised in a clear challenge.

Sasuke can’t help but huff a weak laugh, shaking his head at her insistence. 

“Yes, fine. I am,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at where Naruto and Atsuko are waiting for him some distance away. He turns back to her, looking down at his feet for a second before meeting her eyes. “Thank you. And I’ll-” he swallows, “I’ll think about it.”

Hikari nods and claps a hand on his shoulder, giving him a warm smile. “Alright, your people are waiting for you. I’ll see you around, alright? Let me know when Genji’s feeling better and we can plant those flowers.”

Sasuke nods and returns the smile before walking to meet them; Atsuko reaching out for his hand to hold and Naruto bumping their shoulders together as they start their journey home. 

Chapter Text

It’s late by the time they get Atsuko put to bed. Genji’s already fast asleep when Sasuke checks on him before returning to his room, exhaustion from the emotional past few hours beginning to weigh him down.

The room is dark, Naruto not having turned on the lamp, just standing by the moonlit window, arms stretched over his head as he stares absently out at the ginkgo tree. 

Sasuke slides the door shut behind him with a click as he watches him. There’s one thing about the night that he can’t quite shake, something he should let go, or give Naruto time to tell him on his own, but he finds that he can’t. The cognitive dissonance it creates in his mind in relation to who he knows Naruto to be too agitating to be left alone. 

“Where is your hitai-ate ?” 

Naruto turns towards him, face half-lit in the watery light from the window. He doesn’t speak, just studying Sasuke for a moment before he reaches around his body, pulling up his shirt as he works at something, before returning with his headband in hand and handing it to Sasuke.

Sasuke frowns down at it. It looks the same as it always has; many shinobi wear out their headbands and need to get new ones throughout their careers, but Sasuke knows for a fact that this is Naruto’s original. He recognizes the dings and scratches, some that he himself put there over the years, the aged and torn fabric, the edges that have had to be resewn a few times. But it’s still in one piece. It could still be worn, if Naruto wanted to wear it.

“Why-”

“I haven’t forgotten what the Leaf Village did to you,” Naruto replies, voice harder than Sasuke expects it to be. Eyes stern as he looks down at it in Sasuke’s hand. “And me.”

He meets Sasuke’s eyes, and there’s something there that Sasuke doesn’t recognize. A wisdom, a cynicism that he realizes has replaced the blind optimism that Naruto used to carry with him like a kunai. He finds that it suits him well. 

“I’ve made a promise to stay and do my best to make it better. I haven’t given up on that. But there’s a lot that still needs to change, and until it really stands for what I believe in, it just didn’t feel right to wear it on my forehead.”

There was a time that Sasuke thought Naruto’s allegiance to the Leaf Village was naive. And perhaps he still thinks that, to a certain extent. But there is something brave about it, too. The commitment to something so gnarled and broken, the ability to see what lies beneath the brambles. 

But then, again, Naruto has always been able to do that. Sasuke should know. 

“Do you think it will ever be what you want it to be?” Sasuke tries to keep the disbelief out of his voice. He really does want to know. 

Naruto sighs, stepping closer, running his fingers reverently over the shining silver of the headband, over the leaf symbol carved into the center. It’s too worn now to reflect anything, but Sasuke knows years ago they would have been able to see themselves in it. 

“No,” he answers immediately before shaking his head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Sasuke studies him, the strain at the corners of his eyes seems so much more apparent now that he feels stupid for not seeing it before. Naruto has always carried the weight of responsibility well, but he’s only human. There’s no weight in the world that doesn’t wear you down after you carry it long enough. 

“But even still,” Sasuke murmurs, “it’s worth it to stay?”

“It is,” Naruto says, and the stoniness his voice held before has dissipated, leaving only a tired tone, like the whisper of sand blowing against itself. “Even if it’s never what I want it to be, I think it’s worth it to try.”

Sasuke nods, letting Naruto take back the hitai-ate as his mind tries desperately to find a way to express himself, but his words die on his tongue, the amorphous feelings of admiration and fondness and sadness and anger too cumbersome and complicated to string together into anything articulate. 

So he doesn’t speak, instead catching Naruto’s wrist before he can reach back to re-tie the headband. 

Naruto stills, offering no resistance against his loose hold, like he’s ready to allow Sasuke to do what he pleases, a malleability that can be nothing but willing considering the ease with which it could be revoked. It strikes Sasuke as an honor, to be given such an allowance.

He holds his gaze, slowly sliding his grasp down over the bone of Naruto’s wrist, the soft skin of his palm, his hand opening easily to his touch as he goes. Finally he reaches the cool metal of the headband, closing his hand around it until Naruto gets the message and lets go. 

Naruto blinks down at the headband in Sasuke’s hand before looking back up at him. There is no trepidation in his eyes, only a hazy curiosity. A gentle trust. There’s something terrifying about it, like holding spun glass in your hands, tiny fragile threads that only exist because of excessive care both in the making and keeping of it. 

“Let me,” Sasuke says, barely above a whisper, too afraid of the ephemerality of the moment to risk warping it.

Naruto nods, a minute movement, like he’s afraid of the same thing.

Gently, Sasuke presses at Naruto’s shoulder until he gets the message and turns his back to him, keeping his eyes on him until the very last second, like he’s hesitant to let him out of his sight. 

Sasuke stares at the back of his neck for a moment in the dark, taking notice of the fine blond hairs at his nape and the way his spine juts out just a little, an echo of the old days when he was just a scrawny kid who didn’t quite fit right in his skin. 

He steadies himself, drawing his eyes down Naruto’s back to where his shirt lays over the hem of his pants, wondering why on earth he thought this would be a good idea, but too far in now to change his mind. 

He takes a slow breath, holding the headband in two fingers and catching the edge of his shirt with his knuckles. The fabric is warm, which shouldn’t surprise him considering the way Naruto is, but there’s something terribly intimate about feeling it, even secondhand through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Sasuke slides the hem up until his fingers brush skin, goosebumps blooming under his touch, even somewhere as mundane as the small of Naruto’s back. 

He swallows against the impulse to push further; to draw his fingers along the curve of Naruto’s back, all the way up to those fine hairs at the nape of his neck, to forget the headband and press his hand flat against his warm skin, to lean forward enough to feel it against his mouth. 

He’s been standing there, fingers resting against his skin for too long. Naruto half-glances back at him before reaching back to hold the shirt up for him, brushing his fingertips clumsily before Sasuke retracts. 

Sasuke tries to banish the heat in his cheeks, relieved that Naruto simply thought he didn’t know how to keep the shirt out of the way as he worked and simultaneously embarrassed that that hadn’t been the case at all. 

He doesn’t dwell on it, biting his lip as he presses the hitai-ate against Naruto’s back for leverage with his wrist, using his fingers to pull it through the belt loop.

Naruto sways against the pressure and Sasuke pushes against him in soft admonishment. 

“Hold still, Naruto,” he scolds, voice hushed. “I’ve only got one arm.”

Naruto’s shoulders shake with laughter before he ducks his head, only accentuating the bones at the base of his neck further.

“Yes, sir,” he chuckles, and Sasuke snaps his eyes back to what he’s doing.

It takes Sasuke a few tries to tie it firmly, but he gets it eventually, surveying his work and deeming it good enough for a one-handed tie. 

Without speaking, he takes Naruto’s hand, still holding up his shirt, and slowly lowers it until Naruto lets go, turning back around to face him. 

It’s quiet in the room, just the soft sounds of the trees outside and the creak of the floorboards when one of them moves. The shadow of the ginkgo tree shifts in the moonlight, making asymmetric patterns across the bed and the side of Naruto’s face where it falls on him, passing back and forth over the slight darkening of his cheeks under his facial markings. 

Sasuke wants to reach out and touch, feel the difference in the skin from every other place he’s touched Naruto. He wants to run his fingers down the soft slope of his nose, such a different shape than Sasuke’s own. He wants to let his fingers slide down to the bow of his lips, wants to watch his lips part under his fingers, open, just like his hand had. He wants to see how far the allowance extends. Call it exploration. Call it curiosity. Anything, but what it really is.

“Thanks,” Naruto finally breathes, a sound that almost melts into the wind in the trees outside his window. 

“Don’t thank me,” he replies, voice nothing but a murmur in response. “I wanted to.”

___

As May melts into June, Sasuke and Atsuko make a habit of sitting on the porch after dinner; Atsuko sprawled on her stomach working on her calligraphy as Sasuke simply basks in the warm breeze. 

This evening, the sun is beginning to sink low in the sky, but the humidity hangs in the air even after it has gone down with only the wind as relief.

Sasuke’s back rests against a banister of the porch, listening to the cicadas in the trees and watching the current of air shimmering against the grass fields across the road as he lazily fans himself, mind blissfully empty. 

In his periphery, Atsuko has abandoned her reading and writing for the much-favored activity of simply drawing whatever comes to her mind, calling out to Sasuke every once in a while to look at what she’s created, but otherwise existing in her own world. 

As the shadows of the trees along the road start to get long, existing in surreal stripes along the dirt and bleeding over into the yard, Sasuke’s attention is caught by one in particular moving through the rest at a casual pace.

He smiles, uncrossing his legs to watch as the figure, backed by the sunset, finally reaches the gate and waves eagerly.

“Atsuko,” he says, catching her attention before nodding towards the gate.

The instant she catches sight of Naruto, her face brightens and she sits up, immediately abandoning her paintbrush and marching down the steps to meet him as he makes his way over. 

“Hey, Atsuko,” he says as he closes the gate behind him, voice warm and scratchy like always. “Did you miss me?”

“You haven’t been gone that long since last time,” she informs him, neither confirming nor denying her state of missing him in his absence, as though having just literally dropped what she was doing at his arrival wasn’t answer enough. “Did you bring anything?” she asks instead, straightforward as ever. 

Naruto laughs, taking off his backpack and shuffling around for a minute. “Ah! Here they are,” he exclaims with a grin as he pulls several books out, only to have them instantly snatched from his hands by Atsuko who looks over them with wide eyes before bouncing up and down like she can’t contain herself.

“Thank you!” she shouts before scurrying back to the porch, immediately sitting down near Sasuke and opening the first book without another word.

Naruto watches her for a second, a bewildered look on his face, before his eyes fall on Sasuke. Instantly, his expression softens and Sasuke feels warm at his regard while being entirely unable to stop himself from reflecting it back. 

He stands, walking down the porch steps halfway to meet Naruto at the base, a head taller than him on the steps as he looks at him.

“Hi,” breathes Naruto, soft smile widening further.

Sasuke opens his mouth only to be interrupted by a crash from inside the house.

“Is that Naruto?” Genji’s voice calls out. “Tell him to get back here and help me with this damn piece of equipment. I’m too old to be doing this kind of thing…” he trails off into mumbles and swears, and Naruto rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, grinning.

Sasuke snorts and rolls his eyes. “You heard the man,” he nods towards the house.

Naruto huffs and walks past him, Sasuke watching him go and shaking his head before he sits back down on the porch. 

Atsuko, book in hand, inches over to him until she’s curled against his side, leaning against his arm with the book propped on his knee. It’s hot, and he’d really prefer not to have the extra body heat, but he allows it, adjusting himself a little so that she can see better and resigning himself to being sweaty despite his best efforts. 

Atsuko reads silently to herself, mouthing the words but not making a sound. Every once in a while, she shoves the book at Sasuke and points at a word for him to pronounce and define before she settles back in. 

The sun has set, but the paper lanterns hanging from the boughs of the porch and the warm light from inside the house are bright enough that Atsuko can keep reading. After a while, Sasuke hears the door open and feels Naruto approach them, placing a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder as he peers over it at the book. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good one,” he says before he straightens up. “I read it when I was little, Lord Third gave it to me.”

Sasuke snaps his head around to look up at him. “This was yours?”

Naruto shrugs. “Yeah,” he sits down beside Sasuke. “What else was I gonna do with them?”

Sasuke tries not to gape at him, swallowing. “People usually hold onto this stuff for their kids.”

Naruto holds his gaze for a moment before shrugging and looking away. “She likes them, why would I wait?”

Sasuke shakes his head and looks back out at the field. Atsuko doesn’t even look up from her story, uninterested in their conversation. 

It makes Sasuke feel strange to think about Naruto’s collection of books from his childhood dwindling, but at the same time, Naruto is right. She does like them, so Sasuke really can’t find it in him to feel all that bad about it. He tries not to interrogate the feelings too much.

After some time of them sitting in peaceful silence, letting the time pass slow and syrupy, like it too is affected by the summer heat, Genji pokes his head out the door, up and about enough that things almost seem normal again. “Come on in, Atsuko. Time for bed.”

Atsuko clings a little tighter to Sasuke, refusing to look up at Genji, like that’ll stop him from making her go. “Just five more minutes, grandpa,” she whines. “I’m not finished with the story.”

Sasuke smiles. She always slows down reading when she knows it will be bedtime soon, just to have a card to play to draw it out. Sasuke has to admit it’s a smart move. 

“I bet Genji will read the rest of it to you once you’re in bed, how’s that?” says Sasuke softly, shifting up so she has to reluctantly untangle herself from his lap.

Atsuko pouts. “He goes too fast, he’ll have to read me another one after that.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “You drive a hard bargain, but I think he can be convinced.” Genji laughs, obviously already prepared to read the second story, used to the ritual by now.

Atsuko deflates a little, glancing at Naruto. Sasuke follows her gaze, catching Naruto’s eye. “He’ll be here tomorrow. You have to be well rested so we can all go to the market, right?”

She stands reluctantly, not thrilled but perhaps convinced. “Right,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around Sasuke briefly. He smiles and returns the hug. 

“Say goodnight to Naruto, okay?” He says softly to her as she pulls away.

“Goodnight,” she gives him a little wave.

“Goodnight,” Naruto waves back, just as small, and smiles. 

As the door shuts softly behind them, Naruto sighs and leans back on his palms, letting his leg fall open to bump Sasuke’s. Sasuke looks at the place where it rests for a moment, pushing back ever so slightly, just for the contact. 

Naruto reaches back to pick up the book Atsuko had been reading. He closes it, examining the cover. 

Sasuke sits up to look at it as well. On the front there is a small orange fox staring up peacefully at the leaves of a ginkgo tree, beside him are the words Golden Threads ⁵ . 

“Did Lord Third give you a lot of books?” Sasuke watches as Naruto opens it and starts to absentmindedly flip through. 

“Mm,” he nods with a dry chuckle. “I think he felt bad, so he’d buy a lot for me to read. Guess he thought it’d keep me out of trouble.”

Sasuke snorts softly. “Ineffective.”

“Yeah,” Naruto draws out the word like a sigh. “After a few years I got a little sick of it. Books aren’t the same as friends, you know?”

“I do,” Sasuke answers quietly, as he passively absorbs the illustrations on the pages. The fox toy and a little girl, a storm, the toy caught in the wind and washed down the river. 

Naruto pauses, glancing at Sasuke. “Your folks get you a lot of books?”

He says it so casually, like they were still alive, like he was just talking about anyone else. It’s a little jarring, but something about it is so much easier to hear than the ambivalence everyone else holds if they mention them. 

Sasuke nods, folding his arm around his middle. “Lots of hand-me-downs from Itachi,” he says as evenly as he can, desperate to leave this as a normal conversation about his family. Curious about whether it’s possible. “But when I got older, my mom would get me new ones. Itachi didn’t really do a lot of reading after he started training, so they didn’t have any to give me.”

Naruto smiles, looking back down at the page and idly flipping it. A new child holds the battered and torn stuffed fox in her hands, carefully picking brambles from its fur and washing it clean. 

“What were they like?” He asks, without looking up. 

Sasuke stills, the fantasy of talking about his parents as if they were still alive quickly shattered. 

“Are we really doing this?”

Naruto meets his eyes, eyebrows drawn together. “Doing what?”

Sasuke tightens his fingers around the cloth of his shirt, refusing to look away from Naruto. “Pretending to be normal. Talking about family like we’re talking about the weather, like we don’t both know what happened.” 

“I’m not asking what happened, Sasuke,” Naruto speaks even and firm. “I’m asking about what they were like.”

Sasuke shifts, feeling stiff and uneasy under the pressure of it. He’s not sure he knows how to talk about them like that. He’s not sure he’d even know how to talk about himself like that, so accustomed to having the entirety of his life boiled down to the misfortune that seems to plague it.

“Hey,” Sasuke feels Naruto’s hand rest on his wrist, pulling ever so slightly, like he wants Sasuke to look at him. Powerless against it, he does. “You don’t have to tell me. I just-” his expression is so gentle, so earnest, that it’s hard to cling to the vitriol that would make this so much simpler. “I realized that I’ve never asked. I want to know.”

He looks at Naruto, cast in the slowly shifting light from the lanterns above him, and he thinks of what he said to Atsuko all those weeks ago. 

Sometimes it takes time for the pain to lessen enough that you can properly dress the wound, wash it out. But maybe it’s time. And as Sasuke searches Naruto’s face, he thinks if someone has to hold the burn under water, if someone has to scrub it until it’s safe from infection, he wants it to be him. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Naruto will treat him carefully. Kindly. With respect and reverence. He’ll wrap the wound over and over and over again until it’s healed. He’ll look at the scar and he won’t consider it ugly, he’ll run his fingers over it and he’ll understand that it’s just skin. 

Sasuke breathes in through his nose and exhales slowly, looking down at where Naruto’s hand rests over his wrist, and for some reason, it comforts him. As Naruto slowly retracts it, Sasuke wishes he would leave it, just to feel the pressure. 

“My mom was really smart,” he speaks carefully, afraid that the wrong words will sear him. “She was an amazing strategist. I think she met my dad when they were on a police force squad together. She was one of the best they had.”

“Mikoto, right?” Naruto watches Sasuke carefully.

Sasuke’s eyes widen, a little surprised to hear Naruto say her name. “Yeah, Mikoto,” he confirms. “She was an amazing shogi player too,” Sasuke chuckles, “I don’t think my dad ever won a single game against her, but they’d play every Saturday after we went to sleep,” Sasuke chuckles to himself. “She tried to teach me a couple of times but I couldn’t pay enough attention to learn the rules.”

Naruto’s smile is bright and a little disbelieving, but the happiness there is unmistakable. He props his chin on his hand and doesn’t look away from Sasuke for a second, just listening, so Sasuke continues. 

“She also taught me a lot of jutsu. She and Itachi. And she got me into reading,” Sasuke feels the ache of the memories, like an unused muscle being forced into motion, but he pushes through it. “She loved old stories. Like, mythology. She’d spend so much time just explaining them to me and Itachi whenever she had the chance, I swear I remember them by heart.”

“She sounds amazing,” Naruto murmurs. He’s sitting close enough that their shoulders brush together when he shifts. 

“She was,” Sasuke looks out at the yard, the field across the street, the moon. 

“What about your dad?”

Sasuke doesn’t speak for a long moment, the grim reality of having very little to say about Fugaku making itself clear.

“He was…” Sasuke shifts, rubbing his thumb against his forefinger just for something to release the tension. He feels the steady pressure of Naruto’s shoulder against his and he breathes out. “He was dedicated to our clan.” 

To a fault, perhaps. So dedicated, so determined to uphold their clan that sometimes it felt like he cared about nothing else, he forgot that his sons were more than legacies that would carry on after his death. So tense and on guard with the constant fear of being eradicated that sometimes it’s hard to remember him as anything other than that.

“He had a persimmon tree in our yard,” Sasuke continues without thinking, just letting the memories come as they will. “It was old, I think it had been in our family for at least two generations. It produced these huge persimmons, as big as my face when I was a kid. After the first frost, he’d go out and pick them and we’d make things with them for months, until me and Itachi got sick of it.”

Sasuke lets his eyes unfocus, the tightness in his chest sharpening to a point as he tries to speak. “He loved that tree,” his voice cracks, like ice subjected to heat, and he finds that he can’t say any more.

For a moment, it feels like poison. The grief coursing through his body, shortening his breath, closing his throat, filling his head with pressure like it’s going to burst his blood vessels, feels like the final moments before succumbing. 

But if grief were going to kill him, it would have by now. He breathes out shakily, feeling a tear fall from his eye despite his strong wishes for it not to, and he can do nothing but allow it. He has no choice but to let it run its course.

Beside him, he feels Naruto shift closer in his periphery for a moment until the weight of his arm settles around Sasuke’s shoulders. It’s warm and heavy and Naruto isn’t careful with him, he doesn’t touch him like a scared animal that he’s afraid will change its mind and bite him, or something that will break if the wind blows it wrong. His touch is firm and sure, a human touching another human. 

Sasuke can feel him exhale, pulling him a little closer until he’s nearly pressed into Naruto’s side. He considers pulling away, putting distance between them, but when he searches for a reason, he’s met with none. Not embarrassment, or fear, or anger. Not some misguided desire to protect Naruto from himself, or vice versa.

As the tears fall, silent, Naruto pulls him closer and closer until his cheek rests on the crown of Sasuke’s head, a soft reassuring pressure that leaves Sasuke no choice but to let his eyes slide closed and feel it. 

“What are you doing, papa?” 

The sky was gray with the threat of rain, casting their backyard in a tepid green, giving it the uncanny feeling of timelessness. Unable to be tracked by the sun in the sky.

Fugaku turned to Sasuke for a moment before returning to his task, barely an acknowledgement. The sharp silver knife in his hand shone in the pale light of day as he cut pieces from the tree, and it looked strange, a wrongness about seeing such a tool used in the garden. 

“Cutting off the dead wood before the storm,” Fugaku responded over his shoulder in that terse way he always spoke. 

“Oh,” Sasuke could not think of anything better to say that would not be an annoyance, but he lingered just the same. 

After a moment, Fugaku turned to him again, studying him with an unreadable expression for a moment before breathing out slowly, shoulders untensing by only a degree. 

“Come here,” he nodded towards the tree, and Sasuke obliged. 

Fugaku crouched down to his height, stowing his knife into its holder on his side before reaching out a rough hand to Sasuke.

He didn’t hesitate before taking it, allowing Fugaku to pull him up to sit on his shoulders before standing again, startling Sasuke into gripping his head. 

From this height, Sasuke was among the body of the tree, lush leafy branches spotted with yellow flowers surrounding him. He reached out to touch one, eyes widening as his fingers brush the waxy petals, utterly different from anything he could have imagined they would feel like. 

Fugaku unsheathed his knife again and pulled one of the branches down, calling Sasuke’s attention back.

“What do you see that’s different about this one?” Fugaku asked. 

Sasuke considered it for a moment. At first glance, it was the same as all the others, but as he looked closer it became apparent. 

“No flowers.”

Fugaku nodded, head shifting under Sasuke’s grip, putting him a little off balance. 

“No flowers and very few leaves,” he confirmed. “This branch is unhealthy. Weak. So we have to cut it off.”

“It won’t get better?” Sasuke frowned, stomach twisting at the thought of cutting it off while it’s still alive.  

“No,” Fugaku began to cut at the base of the branch, shaking what few leaves it had. “It’s going to storm tonight. The wind and rain will tear it off if I don’t do it now, and that will hurt the whole tree more than this. It’s the only way to take care of it properly.”

Sasuke pressed his lips together, nodding even though he didn’t fully understand. 

“Now, when you get older, you’ll be able to take care of this tree just like I did. And my father before me,” the branch came loose, and Fugaku examined it for a moment, turning it over until he reached out, plucking the one and only flower, hidden on the underside, from the branch and handing it to Sasuke. “If you do that, it’ll give you fruit for a lifetime.”

Sasuke’s breaths are shaky as the memory runs through him, as clear as if it had happened yesterday. He tries to focus on the warmth of Naruto’s body beside him, the pressure of his fingertips against his shoulder, anything to ground him to the present moment, but it’s hard. 

The words spill from his mouth before he can stop them; “He loved us, too,” he breathes, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wish he could have-” he swallows, words getting caught in his throat. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. “To see it, you really had to look. Read between the lines. It was implied in what he did , I know that. But-” he lets out a sharp, watery exhale, looking out across the field. Out at the moon. “I watched him care for that tree every single day. He’d get up early to water it, look over it, set up elaborate contraptions to keep its fruit safe in the fall. Hell-” Sasuke laughs, and it sounds frantic even to him. Bitter. “Sometimes he’d just go out and look at it, like nothing would make him happier than that. There was never a moment where I wasn’t sure he loved that tree.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Sasuke takes an uneven breath, shifting away from Naruto for a moment to slide off his eyepatch and wipe away his tears. The warm breeze feels good against his rinnegan eye, on the skin that rarely sees the light of day. It’s soothing; he breathes it in and lets it set him right. 

“I know our situations are different,” Naruto says slowly, and Sasuke turns to him, surprised that he has anything to say after all that. “I’m not trying to say that they aren’t,” he continues, eyes earnest and clear as they rove over Sasuke’s face. “But I think I understand what you mean.”

Sasuke doesn’t speak, just looks back at him, studying him as he gives him the space to say his piece.

Naruto swallows, clasping his hands together where they rest across his knees before looking out at the field. “I’ve only met my parents once, and not for very long, but after I found out what happened, everyone said it was this great act of love,” he clenches his fingers together and releases. A familiar tick like a valve releasing pressure. “And it was. I know that. I know they loved me, just like your parents loved you. But the love felt more like a story, you know? Like it was something that happened to somebody else.” 

He shifts a little before he meets Sasuke’s eyes. “And don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful that I got what I did, but-” he shrugs helplessly, “sometimes I wish it wasn’t just a story. I know they saved everyone, and me, and they did it all out of love, but I wish I could have felt it for myself.”

For the hundredth time, the thousandth time, Sasuke looks at Naruto and he sees himself. He sees the sadness of loss, and the confusion when all you can do is gather up what’s left and make something of it. He sees the desperate search for anything to hold onto; an anchor, a compass, anything to tell you what to do next. 

For Naruto, it was the village. For Sasuke it was isolation. Perhaps for his father, it was that persimmon tree that would have lived a hundred more years, had it not been decimated with the rest of Konoha. 

As he sits there, he realizes that perhaps he’s not the only one who has struggled with love; how to give it, how to receive it. What it is- it’s exact shape, color, and weight. Perhaps those who are born without it must find the closest thing to it and devote themselves. 

Unthinking, Sasuke rests his hand on Naruto’s wrist, sliding up until Naruto opens his fingers, letting their hands slide together. Sasuke squeezes, hard enough that it may hurt, just a little, but Naruto doesn’t flinch, only returning the gesture. 

Sasuke doesn’t know how to express all he wants to. He can’t. But if Naruto wants to feel love himself, perhaps this will do. Perhaps the pressure of their palms against one another, the way their fingers fit and fold like they were always meant to, the way they both hold on like it’s something deliberate, something meaningful- perhaps he will understand. Perhaps then, he will feel it. Perhaps it isn’t too late for love to be something tangible. 

Chapter Text

Sasuke is pulled from sleep by the distant sounds of coughing, and for a long, guilt ridden moment, he lies there, dread heavy in his stomach as he looks up at the ceiling beams in the gray twilight.

He tries to let his thoughts clear to let the sinking feeling pass, taking slow, deep breaths that ache a little with stiffness. He waits for the fear to pass, but it doesn’t, only slowing to a dull resignation and acceptance of its presence. After one last deep breath, he gets up, carrying it with him like a heavy wool blanket around his shoulders. 

The house is still relatively dark this early in the morning as he blindly stumbles his way to Genji’s room, sleep still hanging onto him like cobwebs in the rafters. He knocks on his door and waits for a moment, but only met with the muffled sounds of coughing, he lets himself in. 

In the dim blue light of Genji’s room he can just barely make out the shape of him, swallowed up by the covers, only visible because of the movement as he coughs over and over again. 

Sasuke is by his side in an instant, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to pull Genji upright as the episode continues, a futile attempt to help clear his airways. Instinctually, he places a hand on his back, rubbing in slow circles, feeling the heaving and crackling of Genji’s lungs inside his ribcage. He frowns and shuts his eyes, the weight of the fear becoming heavier. 

As the attack slows, finally running its course, Genji wipes his forehead with a shaky hand before turning to Sasuke. 

“Thanks, kid,” he croaks out with a weak smile. 

He looks wan; color off like he hasn’t been getting enough oxygen, but his expression is warm even like this. 

“Of course,” Sasuke replies softly, taking his hand from his back to prop up pillows behind him before easing him back onto him so he can remain upright.

As Genji settles in, Sasuke stands to pull open the shades, letting the mild light in, and cracking open the windows. Despite it being mid June, it still gets cool overnight, and it’ll be a few hours before the heat really sets it. Enough time to let the fresh air in to clear the stifling room. 

By the time he turns back around, Genji is asleep again, expression finally peaceful. He breathes out slowly, looking at him for a long moment before quietly exiting the room. 

Sasuke lets the familiar motions of the morning comfort him, a neutral distraction from the feeling of impending doom that hangs in the house like a dark cloud. 

He listens to the sound of water filling the kettle before he places it on the stove, he smells the fresh herbal scent of the tea leaves as he shakes them into the porcelain strainer, he lets his eyes unfocus. 

“Good morning,” Atsuko’s bright voice breaks the carefully constructed veneer of stability into a thousand pieces and Sasuke closes his eyes, waiting until the last possible minute to turn around. 

“Good morning,” he replies. His stomach turns as he glances at her; already dressed in the outfit she had excitedly picked out the day before and left on the foot of her bed, eyes far more lively and awake than they would be any other day. 

“When are we leaving?” Atsuko pulls herself up into a chair and beams at him. “I emptied out my backpack so I can help carry the strawberries for the anmitsu!”

Sasuke breathes in slowly and exhales, just to stall. The kettle begins to sing and he slides it off the burner, pouring it into the pot with a steamy hiss before he turns back to Atsuko. 

“We can’t go today, Atsuko. I’m sorry, Genji is sick,” he gets out all in one breath. Better to rip off the bandaid. 

There’s a horrible moment where Atsuko looks at Sasuke like she thinks he’s playing a trick on her before she frowns. “He isn’t sick, I saw him yesterday.”

“I know,” Sasuke pulls out the chair across from her and takes a seat. “Sometimes things like this can come on fast. He can’t control it.”

She shakes her head adamantly. “That isn’t fair, why can’t he just rest and then he’ll be okay? And we can just go later?”

Sasuke presses his fingers into his eye, trying desperately to keep a handle on the panic that is rising within him; a strong, unavoidable sense that everything is falling out of his control. 

“It’s not that kind of thing, Atsuko,” he says as evenly as he can. “He’s not feeling well, we have to give him time to get strong again, alright? We can’t go today. We’ll make anmitsu with Hikari another time.”

“It’s not fair!” Atsuko cries, getting off her chair. “Why can’t he be better, and we can all go together? This isn’t fair!”

“I know, Atsuko. It’s-”

“It isn’t fair!” She cries over and over again, tears beginning to stream down her face as her hands fist in her pants. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair!”

“Sometimes things aren’t fair!” Sasuke snaps, anxiety and pressure reaching a boiling point inside him that has nowhere to go but out. “They aren’t! Do you think I want this to be happening? Do you think Genji does? Sometimes things just happen, things out of our control, and they aren’t fair, Atsuko!”

Atsuko’s eyes widen at him for a second before her expression contorts into anger. Without another word, she gets out of her chair and runs back into her bedroom, closing the door with as much force as she can generate.

Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut, pressing into them until he starts to see stars, instant and potent regret creeping up his back like invasive vines. He stands, determined to go to Atsuko and apologize, but before he can, the sound of violent coughs fill the space of his mind and he has no choice but to tend to Genji instead. 

He’s unsure how much time has passed when he’s startled awake by the sound of the front door closing and Hikari's voice calling out into the silent house. 

Groggy, he sits up from where he’d fallen asleep at Genji’s bedside, rubbing at the irritated spots where his eyepatch had been pressing into his skin as he notes that Genji is still sleeping after his last attack. 

“Hey,” Hikari knocks softly on the open door before quietly coming to stand by Sasuke, staring down at Genji for a long moment. 

Sasuke knows he doesn’t need to explain; Hikari can put two and two together. 

He feels Hikari’s hand on his shoulder, startling a little at the contact before looking up at her as she nods towards the doorway and takes her leave, motioning him to follow. 

It’s good to be out of the house, fresh air relieving some of the stagnant tension that seems to linger inside when these things happen. Sasuke breathes deeply, and even though the summer humidity is ever present, it feels good. Like a realignment.

Hikari leans on the porch railing and Sasuke follows her lead to look out at the little flower garden that they have been painstakingly taking care of over the last month or so. It’s just beginning to show tiny seedlings; a smattering of delicate green all across the dark soil. 

“He should really see a doctor,” Hikari sighs, “it’s been going on like this for too long for it to be just a cold.”

Sasuke shakes his head bitterly. “He won’t.”

Hikari rubs at her forehead before crossing her arms. She knows what Genji is like; when he digs his feet in, it’s impossible to move him. Sasuke doesn’t have to explain the uselessness of continuing to try. 

“Atsuko was upset when I told her we couldn’t go,” Sasuke mutters, guilt and regret crawling up his throat before he can even finish speaking. “I snapped at her.”

Hikari lets out a slow exhale, looking at Sasuke. “Well, that’s not great, but it’s understandable. You’re only human, parents do things like that when they’re under stress.”

Sasuke’s throat tightens further at the mention of himself as a parent. “I know,” he mutters, turning away from Hikari, back towards the comfort of the flower bed. “Doesn’t mean they should.”

“I see,” Hikari says, and Sasuke thinks she understands, hopes she hears the meaning under the words; I can’t be like my parents. I can’t use my suffering as justification to cause hers. 

Hikari pats his shoulder, “Alright, enough wallowing. I’ve got Genji for a while, you go talk to Atsuko, yeah?”

Sasuke exhales slowly, taking one last look at the flower bed before he pushes off the railing and nods. Better to not let it fester, just wash out the wound. 

Despite his initial resolve, it takes Sasuke several full minutes of stalling outside Atsuko’s bedroom door to pull himself together enough to knock. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he listens for a response, adrenaline coursing through him as if he were about to march into battle rather than have a conversation with a five year old kid. 

It takes her a while to answer, drawing out the panic more and more until he hears a soft, flat “what” from inside the room and he breathes out. 

Sasuke swallows, trying actively to calm himself down. “Can I come in?” His voice is steady and he finds himself inordinately proud of that. 

There’s a few beats of silence, but Sasuke waits patiently for her to decide, unwilling to barge in uninvited. He stares at the sturdy rice paper and the dark wood paneling until his eyes begin to unfocus. 

“Yes,” she finally replies, and he slides open the door. 

Atsuko is sitting on her bed, clutching one of her pillows tight to her chest, and for a moment he sees himself. Disappointment, anxiety, confusion, an expression that says I don’t know what I’m feeling, I just know I want it to stop. 

“Can I sit?” He gestures to the edge of her bed.

She nods, face still half hidden in the pillow. 

Sasuke takes a seat gingerly. She stares straight ahead, eyes pink around the edges and a little puffy. Feelings hurt, rightfully so. 

“Hey,” he speaks softly, trying not to allow his anxiety to bleed into the way he speaks to her, not wanting to burden her with it. “Can you look at me?”

After a moment, she does. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he says, slowly and clearly. “I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t your fault, and I reacted badly. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

Atsuko examines him carefully, like she’s trying to determine if he’s being honest, and Sasuke lets her. He sits quietly, not filling the space with more words when he’s said what he came to say. He won’t offer excuses to her, because they don’t change the fact that he shouldn’t have done what he did. They would only serve to make himself feel better. 

After a long moment, she releases her hold on the pillow, arms relaxing just a little. “I’m sad,” she says simply. 

Sasuke nods, considering carefully what to say to the vague statement. “What is making you sad?”

“I wanted to go pick strawberries with everyone,” she mumbles into her pillow. 

“I understand,” Sasuke replies softly. “I wanted to go, too.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods. “I’ve never had anmitsu before. I wanted to try it.” 

“Me neither,” she sighs, letting the pillow fall into her lap. 

“It’s sad that we couldn’t go today, but the strawberries will be good for a while. We can go when Genji feels better. Or you, Hikari, and I can go and bring him back some.”

She brightens just a little. “When is grandpa going to be better?”

Sasuke stills. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Her face falls and she slouches, eyes going blank again as she looks straight ahead. 

Sasuke stands up, reaching out for her. “Let’s take a walk, okay?”

Atsuko looks at his outstretched hand for a second before taking it. 

The day has grown warm, cicadas buzzing in the trees and the smell of grass and the feeling of the breeze making it into what can only be called a perfect summer day. 

For a while, they don’t talk, just walking hand and hand through the worn dirt paths all across the back fields, nothing but the sound of the crunch of their feet to fill the space. But it’s comfortable. There’s something somber but peaceful about it, and Sasuke is inclined to let it be. 

Finally, they reach a shady patch of trees, almost all the way around the loop back home. Sasuke takes a seat on the soft, green grass under the canopy of a ginkgo tree. It’s older and more gnarled than the one outside of Sasuke’s window, old enough that the twisted roots come out of the earth, making little ledges for them to sit on. 

Sasuke leans back against the trunk of the tree, Atsuko doing the same right beside him, and they just sit like that for a moment, breeze and shade cooling them down as they look at Genji’s house standing as steady as ever. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, finally breaking the peaceful silence.

Atsuko doesn’t respond right away. He casts a glance towards her, looking at the small frown that darkens her face. He lets her take her time. 

“Why is grandpa sick all the time?”

The sinking feeling returns to his stomach and he looks at the house, the trees swaying gently in the wind, turning the weathervane with a tick tick tick. 

“When people get old, their bodies don’t work as well as they used to,” he answers. It’s purely theoretical knowledge; Sasuke has never had the chance to watch someone get old. 

“Does that mean he won’t ever get better?”

Sasuke lets his head fall back against the rough bark. He doesn’t lie to Atsuko, that’s something he decided a long time ago. Children are people that deserve honesty just as much as anyone else, but the truth will offer no comfort. 

“I don’t know,” he answers anyway, her face falling predictably when he glances at her. He breathes out slowly, sitting up so he can look her in the eye properly, and she looks back. “I don’t know, but I can tell you that we’ll be together no matter what. I’ll be here, and we’ll figure it out, whatever happens.”

Atsuko’s eyes widen a little bit as he speaks, and the sadness that had made its home there seems to abate, just a little.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she responds, and the anxiety isn’t entirely gone, but she says it like she really does believe him. 

Sasuke nods and sits back again, relieved to have said it. He lets the silence come back, easier now. 

Absent-mindedly, he picks up one of the few fallen ginkgo leaves. It’s still green, not time for the tree to turn golden and shed its leaves like sparks falling from a firework. This one must have been knocked off early. 

He spins it in his fingers slowly and smiles. 

“Sasuke,” Itachi whispered to him without turning his head, too smart to get caught talking at a funeral. 

They stood under the boughs of a huge elm tree, waiting for the mourning family members to say their goodbyes before the ceremonial lighting of the pyre. It was gray, fall rain getting ready to begin, and Sasuke was getting bored from the monotony of funerals. 

Itachi took Sasuke’s hand, placing something in his palm before standing pointedly straight, the perfect clan heir, ready to represent his family well at every moment. 

Sasuke glanced around. Nobody paid them any mind, too absorbed in their grief to give a second thought to the clan heirs that were only really there out of tradition. 

He opened his hand, eyes widening at the little yellow butterfly in his palm. 

He picked it up, examining it closer only to find that it was a folded ginkgo leaf from the tree they stood under. He glanced at Itachi, still staring straight forward, but his hands were busy, tying a knot in the stem, folding the leaf, and splitting it to produce another yellow butterfly. 

He didn’t look at Sasuke, only handing him the second butterfly, but Sasuke could see the corner of his mouth tick up in a tiny smile. 

Sasuke creases the leaf in his hand before tying the stem to hold it there. He tears the tip of the leaf, separating the wings before finally splitting the stem and creating the antennae of the butterfly. 

He holds it in his hand for a moment before he reaches out, opening his palm in front of Atsuko.

Her face lights up instantly, eyes widening and a bright smile blooming as she carefully plucks it from his hand, examining it closer with a delighted squeal. 

“You made it?” She looks at him, and she looks so happy, Sasuke almost finds it hard to hold her gaze. 

Sasuke nods.

Atsuko beams at him, bouncing up and down where she’s sitting in the way she does when she gets excited enough that she can’t seem to contain it within herself. 

“Can I keep it?” She clutches it in both hands, looking at him eagerly.

He chuckles. “Yeah, I made it for you to keep.”

She giggles again, hugging it close to her chest and rocking back and forth. “I love it!” She declares before standing and launching herself into Sasuke’s chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and exclaiming, loud and sure into his ear, “I love you!”

Sasuke stills, like some basal fight or flight response takes hold in his body, overriding everything else, like the words are a knife at his throat. He breathes, trying to focus on the weight of Atsuko around his neck and her delighted laughter, completely unaware of the crisis happening within him. 

Slowly, he unsticks. He gets enough control back from himself that he can wrap his arm securely around her back and close his eyes. 

The truth is that he doesn’t know how it can be true. Atsuko is young, and there’s so much about him that she doesn’t know. So much she hasn’t seen; the pain, the anger, the monstrous person he’s been, and the horrible things he’s done, justified or not. The truth is that he’s not sure if she’d still be saying it if she knew. 

But the way she says it makes him think she knows what it means. It makes him think that she knows what it means perhaps more than even he does, like she understands the essence of the words, like to her, love is something simple, something without barbs or teeth. 

And maybe, the honest truth is that she’s seen enough to decide. Maybe she’s known him for almost a year at this point, and he should trust her. Maybe he should follow her lead and trust himself, too. Maybe it isn’t necessary for him to know exactly what it means, be able to measure and quantify and describe it. It is an expression of care, and if that’s the way she chooses to express it, then who is he to deny her that? Who is he to hold himself back from expressing himself, even if he may not know exactly what it means to love someone? He’s scared to, but when she says it with such confidence, what can he do but agree?

“I love you,” he replies, voice cracking like even it is unsure. But perhaps it’s okay to be unsure. Perhaps it is better to be unsure and speak, than to stay in silence. Perhaps it is better to show up, unpolished and fearful, than it is to run away. Perhaps, he is learning. 

___

That afternoon, as the sun starts to sink low in the sky, like a yolk dropped into dark water, Genji and Sasuke sit on the back porch together. 

For a long time they sit in peaceful silence, punctuated only by the occasional rattling cough that Sasuke tenses at before Genji waves him off, pouring himself more tea from the pot sitting between them. 

Genji stares at the flower garden, such as it is, and Sasuke watches him. He looks especially old like this, older than Sasuke remembers him looking when he first came to the house only a year ago. 

The bags under his eyes look deeper, cheeks a little more hollow, but he still has that kindness about him that comforted Sasuke even when he hardly knew him at all.

“Quit staring at me, kid,” Genji grumbles at him, pulling Sasuke from his thoughts. “I’m not on my deathbed just yet.”

Sasuke huffs and looks away, eyes resting easily on the flower bed. 

“It looks good. Haven’t seen even one crow get through the nets, and they’re sneaky bastards, you know,” he chuckles, coughing a little. “You should be proud of it.”

“Hikari did most of the work,” Sasuke corrects gently.

“Well, then she should be proud of it too. Take the damn compliment.”

Sasuke chuckles, feeling lighter at the prospect of Genji doing well enough that he can tease. 

For a while, they watch the sunset. Oranges turning to purples and pinks, like sweet bruises all across the blue sky. Sasuke watches the shadows of the forest melt and warp until it’s difficult to tell them apart from the trees themselves. He looks at the patch of dark turned earth. In the twilight, the seedlings aren’t visible anymore and it looks more like a burial site than ever before.

Sasuke glances at Genji, his conversation with Hikari from weeks ago rattling around in his mind like a shard of glass broken off inside a vase. He remembers the expression on her face as she spoke of it, the way she told him to ask Genji, the way he hasn’t plucked up the courage. 

“Spit it out, boy, what’s got you all quiet?” Genji interrupts again. “I can practically hear the wheels turning inside that head of yours.”

Sasuke considers denying it, or making something up, but in the end, the night makes him honest.

“Hikari told me that you picked petunias and zinnias because of your son.” 

Genji doesn’t look particularly surprised, a sad smile growing on his face as he looks out at the flower bed. 

“Ah, yes. He did love those flowers.”

There’s a beat of silence. A fork in the road, where Sasuke could let the conversation drop or he could ask what he really wants to know. 

“What happened?” He asks, not patronizing Genji by trying to make it gentle. Not trying to dress up the question as if it’s anything other than something devastating.

The sad smile slowly fades as Genji sits quiet for a moment before he shakes his head, taking as deep a breath as he’s able to in his state.

“Reiji was a real show off. Loved to entertain all the other kids, you know? He was thirteen or fourteen, the oldest one there, and they’d all play together, him and Hikari and Kenshin,” Genji starts, voice startlingly even as he shifts in his chair. “I let him play as much as he wanted, busy tending to the farm on my own, and he loved them so much. Didn’t see the harm in it.”

Sasuke watches the shine in his eyes grow and spill over as he clears his throat, not bothering to brush away his tears. 

“They were playing by the Naka river. One of the other kids, they dropped their hat. He could have just let it go, but-” Genji chuckles bitterly, glancing at Sasuke with a shrug. “That wasn’t Reiji. He was always getting in over his head.” 

Genji takes a shaky breath, finally wiping away the tears with his hand. “He was a strong swimmer, but the Naka is unforgiving. The current was too strong, and he didn’t make it out.”

Sasuke shuts his eyes, breathing out slowly, resisting the urge to twist away from the overwhelming grief that he could feel from Genji’s words. 

So much of the pain Sasuke has seen and experienced has been so improbable, so wild and horrific that sometimes he forgets that it exists everywhere. But it does. Pain exists in every village, every house, every person, no matter how they live. 

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke murmurs, because what else could possibly be said?

“Me too,” Genji huffs, a humorless laugh. He pauses, and for a moment, Sasuke thinks that’s it, before he shakes his head, settling in like the immediate visceral pain is beginning to pass. “There is no moving on. Not from the loss of my kid. But moving forward, continuing to live, that took me decades. I’m not sure I was really a person again until I met Atsuko.”

The thought is terrifying. Atsuko is only five years old, almost six, and Sasuke knows that she was at least three when Genji took her in. That leaves decades of nothing but grief. 

“Let me tell you something, kid. I don’t regret a lot in my life, but that- that I regret,” he continues. “After Reiji died, it was like I died, too. And isn’t that such a waste?”

Sasuke thinks of the past fourteen years, what his life has been like. Sometimes he thinks he clung to his half-living state because it was all that was familiar. Because perhaps he didn’t want to be alive without his family. Perhaps he didn’t know how.

“What made you move forward?” 

Genji sighs, heavy and tired. “Pain like that, it’s overwhelming. It takes over until you can’t see anything but that. But it was other things that held me back, too; guilt, isolation. I thought no one could ever understand how I felt, and that it was some kind of betrayal to continue on without Reiji, like if I could find happiness again that meant I didn’t love him enough.” He finally looks at Sasuke, eyes soft and comforting as ever. “But the truth is that the dead don’t care, and the living will always understand you more than you think they will. It’s not a sin to survive, and once I realized that, I started to be able to live again.”

“Was it worth it?” Sasuke asks before he can stop himself, an almost frantic edge in his voice that he can’t control. A fear that he can’t seem to mask. “To love someone so much that it ruined your life to lose him?”

“Of course,” Genji smiles. A real smile this time, one that crinkles the edges of his eyes. “Love is never wasted. Every moment that you spend in your life loving something is a moment that you are doing what you were always meant to do. To be human is to love, kid, and I wouldn’t take those years back for anything in the world, even knowing what I know now. Those thirteen years were the best years of my life.”

Chapter Text

As they walk down the long dirt road to the village proper, it’s quiet. A few birds chirp in the trees, but the ambient hum of the cicadas is nowhere to be found this early in the morning, leaving the world to wake up peacefully on its own time. 

Mist hangs in the air, cooling the heat that lingers even overnight now that they have sunken into the middle of summer. It obscures the road far enough down, dissolving into an impenetrable gray haze that gives the impression of walking through a dream, but Sasuke would know the way with his eyes closed. 

Even Naruto is quiet as he walks beside him, hands clasped around the straps of the vegetable basket on his shoulders, looking around as if he hasn’t walked this road with them several times before. 

He looks a little tired, under eyes darker than Sasuke is used to seeing, but he knows Naruto slept fine last night, soft snores and complete and utter unresponsiveness to Sasuke’s shoves when he gets too close in the hot summer nights making it abundantly clear.  

He pulls his eyes away at his hand being tugged, glancing over to Atsuko, already knowing what to expect. 

“What about this one?” She holds out a rock in the palm of her hand.

Sasuke gingerly takes it, examining it closely. It appears to be pink granite of some sort, which is relatively common to Fire Country, especially around here. 

“This is a very nice piece,” he answers, turning it over in his hand as they keep walking. 

“Let’s see it,” Naruto reaches out for the rock like it’s some precious artifact that is his duty to examine. 

Naruto theatrically brings it to his face like he’s some sort of geologist, turning it over, looking at it from different angles, trying to catch it in the light. Sasuke glances at Atsuko who is staring captivated at him, completely ensnared by the show. 

After a moment, Naruto nods decisively, handing it back to Sasuke who can’t help the amused smile on his face.

“Atsuko, I’d say that’s the prettiest one yet,” he grins at her. Her face instantly brightens, looking at Sasuke who nods in agreement, before she dashes off with a little squeal to presumably find one to top it. 

Sasuke shakes his head and drops the rock into his pocket which is, at this point, becoming too heavy, dragging his pants down at an odd angle. 

“Here, give it to me, I have room,” Naruto brushes Sasuke’s shoulder before gesturing towards his pocket.

Sasuke huffs, reaching in and grabbing a handful of various things that have been given to him during their walk to the market, dumping them into Naruto’s hand. 

Naruto laughs as he looks over the objects, a few rocks, a leaf, the shed skin of a cicada, all carefully curated by Atsuko, before he carefully slides them into the large pocket of his jacket, tied around his waist. 

He looks up at Sasuke with a soft smile, and Sasuke is helpless to do anything but return it. 

“Woah!” Atsuko cries from a ways ahead of them, forcing them to look away to see what has her attention. 

As they get closer in the fog, Sasuke makes out a haze of red before he realizes that what he’s seeing is flowers. 

“They’re so pretty!” She exclaims, pointing towards the vibrant red flowers as if they needed clarification on what she could be referring to. “Even prettier than the rock!”

She reaches out to touch the delicate petals of one before she glances at Sasuke, eyes wide. “Can I pick one?”

He shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

It might be someone’s bush, but it’s not behind a fence, and even if it were, Sasuke isn’t particularly inclined to care. 

Atsuko examines the bush flowers for a moment, stroking her chin as she searches for the very best one. 

After a moment, she steps forward, having to step up on her toes to gently catch one within her reach and break it from its stem. She turns it around in her fingers before she smiles, big and bright, and hands the flower to Naruto.

His eyebrows raise a little, but he takes it reverently. 

“That one is for you,” she informs him before examining the bush again and picking another one. 

She hands it to Sasuke before finally picking one for herself, cradling it closer to her chest. 

“Now we all have one,” she smiles.

“Thanks, Atsuko,” Sasuke nods, placing a hand on her head. “Let’s keep going, we’re almost to the market and we don’t want to be late.”

Atsuko wanders ahead as they start walking again, taking her usual bumbling route down the straight road, allowing herself to be distracted by every little thing she sees. Sasuke walks slow to allow her time. 

As they walk, he can feel Naruto looking at him, a familiar sensation that his body knows well. Pleasant, even, but after a few moments of it he rolls his eyes and heaves his best annoyed sigh. 

“Alright, what is it,” he glances at Naruto, who is indeed wearing a ridiculous grin. “You look like a maniac.”

Naruto laughs, catching Sasuke’s wrist and pulling him to a stop. 

He glances at Atsuko, crouched by the side of the road a ways ahead of them, in no serious danger of running off. He meets Naruto’s eyes again, giving him a dubious look. 

Naruto takes a step closer, fingers loosely wrapped around Sasuke’s wrist, holding him where he is. Sasuke’s eyes widen as he reaches up to the side of his face, opening his mouth to say something- what, he doesn’t know- until he feels the rough stem of the flower brush his ear. 

With a huff Sasuke rolls his eyes and relaxes, hoping desperately that the warmth in his cheeks doesn’t show as he instantly reaches up to pull the flower out of his hair, but Naruto tightens his grasp just for a moment, just enough to stop him.

“It looks nice,” Naruto murmurs, tilting his head just a little with an almost sheepish look on his face, grin from before wiped thoroughly away like he could only stay cocky for a few moments before his confidence ran dry. “Leave it, please?”

Sasuke gives his best put-upon sigh, relaxing his hand in a show of cooperation, mostly just wanting to get out from under Naruto’s scrutiny, lest it become clear how affected he is. 

“Are you coming?” Atsuko calls from a ways down the road, and Naruto lets him go. 

“Geez, go easy on us Atsuko,” Naruto calls back, the warm smile on his face staying firmly intact as he begins to walk again. “We’re old and decrepit, don’t you know that?”

By the time they get to the market, the fog has started to slowly burn off, revealing a warm summer day just like all the others. 

Naruto helps lay out all the vegetables as Atsuko quickly becomes absorbed with her drawings, knowing exactly how Sasuke likes it. It takes him double the time it would take Sasuke, with the villagers being completely enamored with him even after only a few times tagging along, coming up to interrupt him every couple of minutes to ask how he is, how long he’s staying, what his plans are.

“Unmarried?” One of the grannies loyal to the vegetable cart exclaims, as if Naruto had just admitted to killing a man. “A handsome young man like you? And strong, too…” she glances towards Sasuke, as if looking for confirmation. Sasuke just gives a noncommittal hum. 

Naruto laughs good naturedly, waving her off. “Ah, you’re too kind, granny. And I’m too young to get married.”

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head, clearly misunderstanding him. “Someone like you could have anyone they wanted!”

Naruto raises an eyebrow, leaning forward on the counter with an exaggerated conspiratorial look. “Granny, are you offering?”

The old woman gasps before dissolving into a fit of giggles, smacking Naruto’s shoulder as he stands back up with a grin. 

“You’d better not joke with me, Naruto,” she laughs. “One day I might just take you seriously!”

As the laughter dissolves and she moves on to the next stall, Sasuke snorts, shaking his head as he gets back to counting the money in the register now that the show is over.

“What are you laughing at?” Naruto says, accusatory as he comes over to Sasuke. 

“Nothing, just your knack for flirting with every old lady that walks past,” Sasuke answers drily. 

Naruto laughs, leaning on the table next to the register and crossing his arms as he looks down at Sasuke. “What, you jealous?” His voice is smooth as he smirks, just a little. Just enough for Sasuke to find it aggravating. 

Sasuke rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to snap something at him before he’s interrupted by a bright voice cutting through the hum of the crowd. 

“Hello, vegetable people,” Hikari sing-songs as she approaches them. “Naruto, good to see you,” she claps him on the shoulder, unceremoniously dumping her bag on the table beside Sasuke.

“Hi, Hikari!” Naruto responds, body easily unfolding into something welcoming and far less devious that it had been a moment ago. “Ever get that chicken coop figured out?”

Hikari sighs, leaning against a post. “Eventually- it took me and Kenshin three days to find where the hole was that that damn fox was getting in, but I patched it up so hopefully no more dead chickens.”

“Glad to hear it,” says Naruto, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I don’t know how Atsuko would survive without your egg tarts.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “As if it’s just Atsuko who would be devastated.”

“Hey, I am reasonably enthusiastic about the egg tarts,” Naruto retorts, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Oh? Is that why I had to basically pry them out of your hands before dinner last time? Or why you write to me about them when you’re gone?” Sasuke smirks, happy to be back on the defensive.

“You-You’re blowing it out of proportion!”

Sasuke can’t help but laugh, which seems to brighten Naruto’s demeanor just a little.

Hikari laughs as well, but Sasuke feels that she’s laughing at something different from him. The way her face softens and she catches his eye makes him feel horribly seen, so he glances away. 

“Well,” she begins rummaging around in her basket and pulls out a carton, “luckily, I have those egg tarts so Naruto shall live another day.”

Naruto eagerly takes them. “You’re the best, Hikari.”

“You be sure to save some of those for Atsuko, okay?”

Naruto laughs and says, “I’ll do my very best,” at the same time as Sasuke says “I’ll monitor him.” Hikari dissolves into a fit of giggles once again. 

By now the day has settled into the humid warmth of late June, sun beating down onto the well trodden dirt around the market as people wander around, buying goods and talking to each other. The thrum of voices and sounds used to bother him, each one registering to him as a threat when he and Atsuko first started coming, but now he almost finds it relaxing, like the ambient noise of a river babbling some distance away- a sound that signifies that things are in their right place. 

“Oh, by the way,” Hikari rummages around in her bag after the patron Naruto was talking to had thanked him and left, “Kenshin told me to give this to you.” She pulls out a piece of paper, handing it to him. “School recommendations for this area.”

In his periphery, he can see Atsuko perk up, attention being drawn from her art but not quite enough for her to get up and walk over. 

He looks over the paper, Kenshin’s neat, careful script pretty sparse on it. There are only three schools listed at all- one that’s in town, the other two with notes next to them indicating that they are at least one town over. 

“It’s not a lot,” he mutters, turning the paper in a vain hope that perhaps he missed something, only to find it absolutely blank. 

“No,” Hikari agrees. “The school in the village isn’t so bad for Atsuko’s age. You know, learning to read and write, but once it gets to be more than that…”

Sasuke glances back at Atsuko who has already lost interest, engrossed in her drawings again and he breathes out slowly. 

“You went to school here, right Hikari?” Naruto comes to sit back down in the chair beside Sasuke, absentmindedly throwing his arm across the back of it, brushing his shoulders. 

She sighs. “Yeah, sort of. I went until I was twelve or thirteen, but after that I just started learning how to farm and do metalworking from my parents.”

“And is that what you wanted to do?”

Sasuke’s eyebrows raise a little at Naruto’s question, for some reason surprised to hear him ask it. 

“I don’t know,” Hikari shrugs. The movement suggests detachment, but something about the tension in her face makes Sasuke not believe it. “I liked learning about the world. There were so many new things to find out about that I had never heard of, and I thought that was exciting. But it’s not like I was some gifted kid that would have grown up to be something great, I probably would have ended up on the farm just the same.”

“I mean, twelve years old-” Naruto shakes his head, “anything could have happened.”

Hikari’s face falls, barely enough to catch it, like watching a shadow dilute to nothing as a cloud passes over the sun. 

“I guess I’ll never know,” she sighs, an almost-convincing smile plastered onto her face. 

“Please tell Kenshin thank you for his help,” Sasuke cuts in, hoping to relieve them all of the tension unbecoming of the bright summer day. 

“I will,” she promises, a more authentic smile gracing her face as she pats Sasuke’s shoulder.

Sasuke tries not to feel too downtrodden after Hikari takes her leave, the path ahead more unclear with each passing day, but clearly he is unsuccessful if the way Naruto pats his shoulder as he stands to meet the next customer is any indication. 

He looks back down at the short list and no ideas come to him. 

“Were you talking about school?” Atsuko pulls him from his downward spiral and climbs into the empty chair next to him.

He nods.

“Can I go soon?” Her eyes are big and hopeful, and it takes strength to not look away from it.

“Yeah,” he answers honestly. “Probably this fall.”

Atsuko breaks into a smile, wiggling around enough on the chair that it threatens to unbalance. Sasuke steadies it with his leg. 

“What is school like?”

“Uh,” he flounders a little for an answer that would be at all applicable to her. “I think you spend a lot of time with kids your age. Learn to count, read, all kinds of stuff.”

“Is it fun?” She demands. “Did you like it?”

“I-”

“Are we talking about Sasuke at school?” Naruto interrupts, leaning on the back of Atsuko’s chair so she has to tilt backwards to look at him. “You’d better be telling her about how you were the smartest kid in our class,” he admonishes with a grin.

Atsuko’s eyes widen and Sasuke tries to suppress the desire to glare at Naruto.

“You were?” she cries, something close to awe in her expression.

“He was! Top of our class, Atsuko. You’re in the presence of a genius.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, clicking open the cash register just for something to do with his hands and for a reason to look away from the delighted look on Atsuko’s face.

“Were you best friends?” She turns all the way around in her chair to look at Naruto.

Sasuke watches as he rubs the back of his neck, laughing lightly as he glances away. “Ah, well…I wanted to be. We had a lot in common, but I was a stupid kid back then, you know? I kinda messed it up.”

“How did you mess it up?”

Naruto looks at Sasuke for a moment, mouth open like he’s trying to search for what to say. Probably taking a moment to come up with some palatable lie that would be just enough to satisfy her but not enough to reveal anything true.

Finally he sighs, giving a half-shrug. “We were both alone. It was hard for me to show him that I wanted to be his friend, like-” he deliberates for a moment. “You know, it’s scary to put yourself out there. I was too scared to be honest, so I just fought with him instead.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen at the shockingly honest explanation, floored yet again by Naruto’s talent for simplifying such tangled messes into something understandable without losing the truth of them. 

“You were alone?” Atsuko turns to Sasuke. “Why?”

“We were both orphans.”

She frowns, like she’s not quite sure what that means. 

“Our parents weren’t alive anymore.”

Her face falls, just a little. “Like me?”

Sasuke frowns. His instinct is to say not like you. If someone can look at the life that you live, if they can draw similarities between your childhood and ours, I have done something terribly wrong. 

But it’s too hard to say that without having to spill his own blood, cut himself open and show her all the rot that’s been left behind by his time spent growing up. 

“In a manner of speaking, yeah,” he responds, a half truth. A truth only in the most technical sense. 

He resents himself as he watches sadness spread on her face, wishing desperately that he could be like Naruto. Find the courage to be honest, even if it’s hard. But he doesn’t know how. He feels that honesty is sometimes nothing more than the prying open of a wound scabbed over. 

As the market wraps up, Atsuko is more clingy than usual, staying close to Sasuke as they pack everything away and holding his hand in silence the whole walk back home in the tangerine glow of the setting sun. 

Her silence persists through dinner, hardly saying anything to Genji no matter how persistent he is with his questions. As they start to clean up, Genji throws him a concerned glance and all Sasuke can do is give him a shrug. 

This persists until bedtime, and when Sasuke finishes reading the story she halfheartedly picked out, he decides he’s left it alone for long enough. 

He closes the book, setting it on her bedside table and moving to sit on the edge of the bed as she watches him, that same tension in her eyes as before.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, unable to think of a more tactful way to broach the subject. 

Atsuko burrows further into the covers, pulling them up to her chin and shaking her head no.

Sasuke nods, relieved that he’s getting any responses at all, considering Genji’s luck at the dinner table. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Atsuko looks at him for a minute, like she’s really considering it, before she removes the blanket from over her mouth. “Are orphans always alone?”

Sasuke’s eyebrows draw together; of all the things he was expecting to hear, that wasn’t one of them. He tries to maintain a neutral tone, despite the shock. 

“What do you mean?”

“You and Naruto were alone because you were orphans,” she reminds him, worry stretching her voice thin. “Am I going to be alone, too?”

Sasuke feels his stomach drop, and he shakes his head firmly before he can even formulate a response. “No,” he breathes, “no, absolutely not. It’s- they are different situations. You won’t be alone like that.”

Ever the questioner, she doesn’t seem to buy it. “Why not?”

“Because you have us, right? You aren’t going to be alone, we’ll make sure you won’t be. Not like me.”

She frowns, the blanket released just a little further, like she’s forgotten to keep it up as a defensive shield. 

“Why were you alone, then?”

Sasuke can feel his mind writhing away from the question, like a slug doused with salt, like the very asking of it will shrivel him up until he’s nothing. He feels the instinct to shake it off, to break the hold, to flip the latch on the door and escape. 

There is no escaping from the past. Running away from it would be useless, because it’s part of him. It’s woven into the foundation of him, and no matter how far he runs, how thoroughly he tries to escape, nothing will change that. 

No lie, no half-truth, and no evasion will change the truth. If Sasuke spends the rest of his life hacking at the foundation, trying desperately to change it to something else, trying to extract the parts of it that are mangled, putting up signs everywhere that ward people off, it won’t change things. All it will do is make sure that nothing else can be built. 

And the thought of that here, now, with Atsuko looking at him expectantly, is untenable. The thought of denying her the truth of who he is, denying her transparency, keeping her at arm's length- it’s not one he can even entertain. 

“When I was young, something bad happened to my family,” he begins, not giving himself the time to think about it. “I was alone after that.”

Her eyes widen. “They died?”

“Yes,” he swallows. “Almost everyone in my clan but me. And my village, they didn’t like my clan, so there was no one to look after me like Genji and I look after you. So I was alone. Or-” He pauses for a moment, almost shocked at himself. Shocked at the warmth that his next thought brings, even now. The comfort. “I wasn’t all alone. I had Naruto, in a way. He was alone, too, and knowing that I wasn’t the only one who felt what I was feeling…it helped a lot.”

“And you became best friends?” She asks, tone desperate, like she wants to hear that everything ended up okay. 

Sasuke chuckles softly. “Yeah. Once we got to know each other, I wasn’t really alone anymore. I had him. He wouldn’t let me feel alone, even when I wanted to.”

Atsuko turns onto her side, resting her cheek on her folded hands as she looks up at him. “It sounds sad,” she mumbles, “to want to be alone like that.”

“It was,” he replies. “But sometimes when you’re really hurting, it’s hard to be around other people. It can be scarier for people to see your pain and not understand than it is to be alone.”

He’s not sure if she understands what he’s saying, but she listens carefully all the same, big brown eyes watching him steadily through the low light of her bedside lamp.

“But you’re going to have people who care about you and understand you, even if you’re sad. You aren’t ever going to be alone like we were. I promise.”

Finally, her expression softens, the tension that had been lingering there like cobwebs in the rafters finally clearing.

“You won’t be alone either,” she smiles. “We’ll be together.”

Sasuke returns the smile, reaching out to gently straighten out her hair. “We’ll be together.”

He lets the moment be for a few breaths, just appreciating the way it feels before he sighs. “You’d better get to bed, okay?” he gets up to plug in her little butterfly night light and click off the lamp, casting them in a soft blue glow. 

“I love you,” she murmurs sleepily.

“I love you.”

___

Later, after he and Naruto do the dishes and Naruto goes off to take a shower, Sasuke reclines on top of the comforter, propped up by pillows, half heartedly reading the newest book he’d picked up from Koyuki’s. 

His mind can’t focus on the words, heaviness from earlier still drifting around like leaves pushed across the surface of a lake by a stiff breeze. Each time he tries to draw his attention to the story, he drifts away again, eyes unfocusing until he gives up and glances out the open window at his ginkgo tree, swaying softly in the humid summer night. 

Just as he pulls his gaze back to the book, he hears the hiss of the door sliding open and closed again as Naruto returns after his shower. 

Sasuke glances up, over the top of the page, to see Naruto dressed in only a towel around his waist, just like always. 

He watches as Naruto easily sheds the towel, leaving himself bare as he ruffles his hair again absentmindedly, warm light from the lamp casting his body in soft contrast. Sasuke looks at the shadows across his ribs as they stretch under his skin, the faint dimples at the bottom of his spine, like two thumb prints left in clay, the soft blonde hair that dusts his thighs. 

He wonders if he should look away, avert his eyes politely, but it’s been months and never once has Naruto been shy about this. He lays himself bare easily. 

Evidently satisfied with the state of his hair, Naruto hangs the towel on the hook over the door and digs around in his pack until he finds a pair of soft, worn shorts to slide on, forgoing the shirt entirely. 

Sasuke returns his eyes to the page, certainly retaining even less than he had been before, but unwilling to be quite so open about staring as Naruto is about showing. 

He feels the dip of the bed as Naruto drops a knee onto it before he crawls over to where Sasuke is, plucking the book from his hands without a word, sliding Sasuke’s bookmark into place, and setting it on the table before giving Sasuke a soft smile and lying down beside him. 

“I was reading that,” Sasuke argues weakly, more for show than anything else. 

“No you weren’t,” Naruto chuckles, a knowing look in his eyes that makes the heat rise in Sasuke’s cheeks. 

It’s a safe look, though. It’s a teasing that still feels soft at its core. 

Sasuke rolls his eyes, looking down at Naruto from where he’s leaning against the pillows. Sasuke can’t help but think he’s beautiful. Just as beautiful as he’s always been.

He tries to think of the first time he looked at Naruto with that thought, but it’s hard to pin down. He’s not sure when exactly it was, but he knows that even when they were little he couldn’t look away from him. In every class, in every group, in the village, when they were both alone, it didn’t matter, he just felt the desperate need to look at him. Maybe it was all the way back then that he found him beautiful, he just couldn’t name it. 

Naruto looks back at him for a moment before his eyes catch on something and he huffs an airy laugh, pointing at his own ear.

“You’ve got-”

Sasuke sits up, propping himself on his elbow and leaning down to feel around his ear, but Naruto shakes his head with a smile.

“C’mere,” he chuckles, the softness of his scratchy voice so warm that he feels it all the way to the soles of his feet. Helpless, he leans forward, allowing Naruto to reach for something by his other ear and pluck it away.

When he leans back again, Naruto holds up a red flower.

“Can’t believe this stayed all day,” Naruto grins, twirling the flower between his fingers. 

Sasuke rolls his eyes, halfheartedly pushing him away as Naruto giggles, mock-falling until he settles back in to look at him. 

After a moment, as the laughter dies down, Naruto holds the flower up to Sasuke’s right eye. His Sharingan eye. 

“Red is a good color on you,” he murmurs.

Sasuke breathes out sharply, looking down for a moment before meeting Naruto’s eyes. “Good,” he mutters derisively, “I’m stuck with it.”

Naruto only smiles, not put off by Sasuke’s tone as he lets the skin of his knuckles brush Sasuke’s cheek as his expression somehow softens further. 

“I always thought your Sharingan was so beautiful,” he spins the flower next to Sasuke’s face lazily. “Is that weird to say?”

Sasuke stills, unsure if he’s ever heard anyone refer to a Sharingan as anything other than abjectly terrifying. Especially his own. Sasuke of the Sharingan Eye was always something spit at him like an insult, or said with the kind of awe someone would reserve only for a weapon of mass destruction. He’s never heard it spoken of with the soft reverence in Naruto’s voice.

He shakes it off, huffing a shallow laugh. “Like something being weird to say has ever stopped you before.”

Naruto shrugs. “I’m just being honest.”

His hair flares out on the pillow in soft wet tendrils, warm orange light of his lamp spilling over him, making him glow. The tendons of his neck and the curves of his collarbones, his light eyelashes even casting a shadow against his cheeks. He sighs, and Sasuke watches his chest rise and fall. 

Slowly, Naruto reaches up again, fingertips sliding along Sasuke’s cheek, thumb swiping gently under the delicate skin of Sasuke’s eye.

Instinctually, Sasuke tenses, the fear from all the previous times someone has touched him there flooding back all at once.

Naruto’s eyes widen, brows drawing together as he instantly pulls away, opening his mouth to speak. Sasuke catches his wrist, holding him still. He closes his mouth, just waiting. 

“I’m not-” Sasuke breathes, trying to find the right words. “I’m not used to-”

Naruto doesn’t move, just studies Sasuke carefully. 

He doesn’t know what to say. How to convey that it’s terrifying to be touched like that, but he wants it. He wants it more than anything else. He wants the feeling of Naruto touching him like that to overwrite every unkindness that his skin has felt before. 

Sasuke breathes out slowly, loosening his grasp on Naruto’s wrist but not releasing him. He holds his gaze for a long moment, an exchange without words. A look that says; I trust you. A look that answers; you will not regret it. 

Painstakingly slow, Sasuke moves him and Naruto offers no resistance, just allowing him to do as he pleases. 

Naruto’s fingers brush the skin of his cheek again, warm and soft, and Sasuke murmurs, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Naruto’s eyes flick to the place where his fingers touch him for a moment before meeting Sasuke’s again. There is a seriousness in his expression that Sasuke is unused to. Not the determination or the grit that he’s seen before, but something else. Something reverent. The solemnity that one adopts as they kneel in a temple. 

Slowly, he moves his fingers on his own, tracing the skin beneath his eye to the very edge before going back across his eyelid. Sasuke closes his eyes, allowing it.

He takes his time, tracing down the ridge of Sasuke’s nose and back up again, starting on his other eye, touching it just as gently as the first. 

Sasuke can feel his heart beating in his chest, but it’s distant, the fear melting into something else. He feels almost drunk on it, on the care Naruto takes in touching him, on the absolute certainty that he’ll treat him well. It makes his mind soft and fuzzy, content to just be touched like this forever. 

After a while, Naruto tilts his face to the side and Sasuke allows himself to be maneuvered easily. 

“Sasuke,” he hears his name distantly, like it’s being spoken to him from above water while he’s floating in the surf. “Look at me.”

Sasuke does, eyes sliding open slowly, like he’s waking from a dream. 

Naruto doesn’t say anything, just looks up at him from where he’s still lying down. 

He looks at him the same way he always has, and it fades into his mind that Naruto knows him better than anyone else on earth. He’s seen it all, every iteration of Sasuke, no matter how angry, how volatile, how lost. He’s seen it all, and yet he still looks at him the same. He can still touch him like this, and he can mean it. 

And as he feels the warmth of Naruto’s hand against his cheek, he wonders if perhaps the act of being known is not always something heartrending and terrible. Perhaps there is a version of it that can be soft, just like this. 

Abruptly, Naruto sits up in front of him, propping himself up on his elbow in a mirror of Sasuke’s posture, concern written all over his face. 

Sasuke blinks, completely unsure for a moment as to why, until he feels the wetness under his eyes, tears dripping over Naruto’s fingers faster than he can gently wipe them away. 

“Did I- Did I do something? Did I say something?” Naruto breathes, panic in his voice.

Sasuke shakes his head no, throat too tight to form words. 

He could tip forward, hide his face, twist away from the intimacy of being seen like this, but he doesn’t. He realizes that he wants Naruto to see this, too. He wants to trust that he will be seen and accepted. He wants to feel what it feels like to be caught. 

Naruto breathes out slowly, dutifully wiping the tears away as they fall. He doesn’t push for an explanation, or try to get Sasuke to stop, he just lets him feel it. 

As the feeling peaks and wanes, Sasuke breathes deeply, wiping some tears away before shaking his head again. 

“I’m just happy that you’re here,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. 

Naruto gives him a tiny, bewildered smile. 

“Is this what happy looks like on you?”

Sasuke gives a small half shrug. “I’m still learning.”

Naruto huffs, his smile softening into something more solid. More sure. 

On an exhale, he leans forward, forehead resting on Sasuke’s. He can feel the dampness of his hair, the smell of cedar from the shampoo he used, the warmth of his breaths against his mouth.

For a moment, Sasuke holds still, letting his eyes flutter closed. His thoughts come slow, overwhelmed by the sensations and feelings that he is powerless against. 

To say he isn’t scared would be untrue. The fear that has made a home in his body appears, but the shape of it is familiar. He has met this fear so many times that it feels like an old friend. 

“Naruto,” he whispers, close enough that he can almost feel the way the words brush against his lips. 

He means to say more. He means it as a warning and as a way to beckon him closer. He means it as a cry for help and a declaration of love. It’s a question; what if it kills me to touch you? And; what if it kills me not to?

“Sasuke.”

The way Naruto says his name is answer enough. It is acknowledgement and understanding, and he almost finds it funny that he is surprised to find that here, like going to the beach and being surprised to see the waves crashing along the sand. 

It is hard now to remember a time before Naruto was there, reaching for him. 

Sasuke reaches for him this time, raising his hand to rest carefully at Naruto’s jaw, his fingertips pressing the soft skin of his cheek. He lets his thumb brush over his markings, moving him enough that their noses bump together. 

Naruto’s leans into the pressure, covering Sasuke’s hand with his. 

Sasuke can feel his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing hot through his body at the closeness. He can feel the warmth of Naruto’s skin against his hand and his forehead, and he knows it’s the same for him.

“It has to be you,” Naruto breathes, barely above a whisper. His bottom lip brushes Sasuke’s and he can’t help but let his mouth drop open, just the slightest bit. “After everything, I can’t-”

“What if I want you to?”

Sasuke slides his hand further up Naruto’s jaw, fingertips finding their way into his soft hair, thumb pressed against the notch of his ear. 

Naruto’s hand slides to Sasuke’s wrist, holding it gently as he leans back. 

The sinking weight of rejection begins to form in Sasuke’s stomach, but as he opens his eyes to meet Naruto’s, warm and blue, soft as he looks at him, it dissolves again. 

For a moment, Naruto just looks at him. His expression is nothing like Sasuke expects; eyebrows drawn together, gaze searching, like for once in his life, he’s unsure. 

“I’ve spent my life chasing after you,” Naruto whispers. “But this-”

Sasuke frowns. “Are you scared?” 

Naruto swallows, but he doesn’t look away. “I don’t want to take something you wouldn’t give to me freely.” His eyes flick down to the scant space between them before they meet Sasuke’s again. “I need to know that you want it.”

In fourteen years, Naruto has always been there. He’s reached out his hand for Sasuke so many times and in so many ways that it began to feel like that was their resting state: Naruto offering and Sasuke turning away. 

But the truth is that he wants to reach back. He has craved the feeling of holding and being held for so long that it feels like it’s part of him just as much as the fear that has stopped him from doing it. 

Sasuke moves to take Naruto’s hand, pressing it to his chest. Naruto watches him carefully, eyes flicking to where his palm rests before looking back at Sasuke. 

Sasuke swallows. He knows his heartbeat speeds up, and knows that Naruto can feel it. He has never been good with words, but he owes Naruto this much. 

“I’m scared,” he murmurs. “But I want you, still.”

He can feel the tiny tremor of Naruto’s hand on his chest, the way his breaths come faster, the way he is forcing himself to stay still. 

There is nothing left to do in the world but to slide his hand to the nape of his neck and lean in. 

The kiss is soft. Slow. Just a reverent press of lips and a long moment to savor it. Naruto’s mouth is warm and dry, gentle against his, almost careful, like he’s afraid that if he moves too fast Sasuke will change his mind. 

He presses a little harder before they part, a small assurance that he hasn’t. That he won’t. 

They don’t go far, still bowed together, breathing softly into the space between them. Sasuke reaches blindly for Naruto’s hand, still pressed against his chest, and pulls it closer until Naruto catches on and lets it slide into Sasuke’s hair at the nape of his neck. 

With a soft sigh, Sasuke tips forward again. 

Naruto pulls him closer, his mouth moving under Sasuke’s slowly until the dryness has been replaced with a sweet slide. Sasuke can feel the hinge of his jaw move under his fingers as he uses his tongue, the sensations of warmth and closeness all blurring together into an overwhelming haze, his mind pleasantly clear except for the insistent desire to feel more. 

He pulls Naruto closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulders with enough force that it jerks him forward, the momentum forcing Sasuke to put more pressure on his stump. 

He hisses and shifts in an attempt to relieve the sharp seizure of the muscles, but his balance is off, and he collapses back onto the pillows.

Naruto opens his mouth, worry clear in his expression, but too impatient to discuss it, Sasuke pulls him down by the nape of his neck to kiss him again. 

The skin beneath his fingers is hot, even for Naruto. Almost feverish as he runs his hand down the track of Naruto’s spine, transfixed by the feeling of his muscles shifting as he moves over Sasuke. 

He allows himself to do what he’s always thought of, touch Naruto in all the ways he’s wanted to but thought he’d never get to experience in this lifetime. He runs his hand over his shoulder blades, the valley between them, the curve of his collar bones, the place where they meet. He drags his palm down Naruto’s bare chest to the flare of his ribs, and feels the muscles twitch under his fingers as they brush over his belly where the kyuubi’s seal used to be. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto breathes against his mouth, nothing more than a whisper.

Sasuke pulls him closer, moving him until he’s firmly situated between his thighs, close enough that he can feel the rise and fall of Naruto’s chest against his as they kiss.

Naruto’s mouth drifts to his jaw, his neck, the soft space beside his collar bone. Sasuke can feel his mouth drop open with a silent gasp at the heat of his tongue, his fingers finding their way back to Naruto’s hair and pulling hard enough that he can feel the vibration of his groan against his skin. 

Naruto’s hand travels down his chest until finally his fingertips slide under the hem of his shirt, hot and a little rough in a way that makes him only press closer to them. 

“Can I-”

Before Naruto even gets the sentence out, Sasuke pushes him back just enough to prop himself up and pull the shirt off, only to have it get caught over his stump. 

Sasuke gives a frustrated huff, vision half obscured by the fabric for a moment until he feels Naruto’s hands gently detangling him, lifting the shirt over his head and tossing it to the side before he sits back, just looking. 

For a long moment, they sit in silence, nothing but the sound of their fast breaths to fill the space between them. 

Sasuke holds himself still under Naruto’s careful regard, just watching his face as he looks at him. His eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been, mouth quirked in a small smile, probably left over from a moment ago. His palms rest on Sasuke’s thighs, fingertips just barely under the hem of his shorts, thumb brushing back and forth against his skin absentmindedly.

Sasuke’s never been particularly shy about his body. Honestly, he’d never thought about it much before.

But now, it’s different. It’s not a finely tuned weapon anymore, it’s just a body. And he’s made a lot of strides since he was sick, he knows he looks healthier now, less emaciated, less like someone who is barely alive, but it’s still strange to be seen by someone else. 

Naruto’s gaze is hard to pick apart into components. Hard to name exactly. All he can do is feel how it feels to be looked at like that. 

It’s like a kiss; a touch so gentle and warm that Sasuke knows it could not be a memory between them. It’s like the pressure of being held, the physical measurement of the acceptance that can be felt there. It’s like those years ago when Naruto smiled at him across the water and said I am your friend. I will bear the burden of your hatred, and we’ll die together. It’s the part that never changes; no matter how Sasuke transforms, no matter what shape he takes, no matter what path he goes down, Naruto looks at him like it’s easy to love him. Simple. Like loving Sasuke in any form is ingrained into who Naruto is. 

It’s something that Sasuke always used to see as a blindness, like Naruto’s feelings warped his perception of him so drastically that his perspective couldn’t be trusted anymore. But now, he realizes that it isn’t blindness, it is perhaps the one and only time he’s been seen with perfect clarity.

“What is it?” Naruto asks softly, and Sasuke realizes that lost in his own thoughts he was being examined, too. 

Sasuke can’t help the huff that escapes his lips. “I’ve just wanted…” he trails off, looking at Naruto in the warm orange glow of his bedroom lamp. 

Naruto swallows, licking his lips before glancing down at where his hands rest on Sasuke’s thigh. He looks back up to meet his gaze. 

“So have I,” Naruto murmurs. “You know I have.”

“I know,” Sasuke forces his hand to stay relaxed where it lies on the sheet. “And you know-”

“Then why?”

The question is heavier than it should be able to be, only two words. It is simple and yet it goes back years and years, perhaps back to the very first day they met. Why are you running? From what? Why can’t I stand beside you?

In some ways, the question has been asked a million times, never once answered in a way that was true.

Sasuke breathes in slowly. Exhales. He knows Naruto can see it, but it doesn’t matter. Let him see.

“I thought that was all there was for us.”

Naruto frowns, an unusual expression to see manifested on his face. “What was?”

“Wanting,” Sasuke murmurs. 

The state of wanting, the agony of it, was something bearable. Something survivable. For most of Sasuke’s life on Earth, that was all he could ask for. 

“After all those years of wanting,” Naruto’s gaze is steady and sure as the sun rising in the East, “don’t you think we deserve to have?”

To want is to starve. To have is much more unpredictable. 

And yet, as Sasuke looks at Naruto, he knows there is not a reality in which he has the strength to turn away from him tonight no matter what may lie ahead.

“Maybe so,” Sasuke whispers as he reaches out for Naruto, placing his hand over his, watching as he turns it over to fold them together, palm to palm. 

The gesture seems so thoughtless, but Sasuke knows better. It seems like something easy, like something they have done a million times, but to say that would be untrue. 

No, this touch has been hard-won. A translation of agony so sweet that you could hardly believe it ever existed in any other form. But Sasuke knows. He has experienced every incarnation of this agony in perfect clarity. 

Naruto reaches out to brush his fingers across the skin of Sasuke’s stomach, eyes fixed on the points of contact. The muscles beneath his hand contract involuntarily, unused to being touched like this, but Sasuke does nothing to stop him, just watches his soft expression and breathes as evenly as he can manage. 

After a moment, Naruto meets his eyes as his hand slowly glides upwards, goosebumps rising on his skin in reaction. His fingers travel over the soft part of his belly, the edge of his ribcage, his chest, less defined and more bony than it had ever been before. 

He doesn’t seem to mind the changes, a small, reverent smile warming his face as his palm comes to rest over Sasuke’s beating heart. 

Sasuke lets himself be looked at, trying not to shift under the scrutiny that doesn’t feel like scrutiny at all but something much more tender. He breathes slowly and wonders if Naruto can feel the passage of air through his lungs. 

“So,” Sasuke finally murmurs, “are you going to?”

Naruto’s eyelashes catch the warm light of his lamp as he tilts his head to the side, his thumb moving back and forth against Sasuke’s collarbone. 

“Going to…?”

“Have me.”

For a moment it’s quiet, just the sound of the cicadas outside and the soft click of Naruto’s throat as he swallows. 

Sasuke knows he can feel his heartbeat now, pounding in his chest right under Naruto’s palm, but it’s not enough. He wants him to feel it. He wants him to do more than that, let his steady fingers sink through his skin and bones until they rest on the muscle of his beating heart. Even that would not be close enough. 

But as Naruto leans over him and kisses him, slow and sure, it’s a start. 

His hand moves from Sasuke’s chest to the side of his throat, his thumb applying the gentlest pressure to his pulsepoint, and Sasuke knows they’re both searching for the same thing. When he does not release Sasuke’s hand, only shifting it up over his head, pressing it down into the sheets, he knows that the closeness he desires is not his to hold on his own.

Reflexively, Sasuke squeezes Naruto’s hand, pressing up just enough to feel the weight that holds him down. As Naruto travels to his jaw, tongue hot against the sensitive skin there, he doesn’t pause, but he eases his hold on Sasuke, almost like an automatic reaction to his motion of escape. 

“Don’t,” Sasuke breathes, tilting instinctually closer to Naruto, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Naruto pulls away to look at him, still close enough that he can feel his fast exhales against his mouth. He begins to retract his hand but Sasuke holds it where it is. 

For a moment, he just breathes, the reality of the moment settling over him. It would be easy to escape, even now. He could push Naruto away, slip out from underneath him and walk out of the room. He could do more than that; if he wanted to, he could keep walking, down the road and out of the village.

But he won’t. He won’t because someone has to open Genji’s blinds tomorrow morning. And he promised Atsuko that they’d go to Hikari’s to visit the cows. 

Here, now, he realizes that he wants to stay. He wants to be in this quiet, soft space with Naruto between his legs. He wants to feel the intimacy of his skin and his breath and the reverence with which he looks at him. He wants Naruto to feel the same things from him. 

Sasuke has always valued freedom. The ability to escape, should he need to. But here, under Naruto, there is a kind of deliverance in being held still. 

“You can hold me down,” he murmurs, squeezing Naruto’s hand again. “I want you to.”

Chapter Text

As he wades through the tall grass, seedheads brushing the tips of his fingers and making his legs itch with the dry fibers they leave behind, Sasuke wishes he had pressed Naruto a little harder about what to expect on his little surprise excursion. 

He covers his eyes with his hand, watching Naruto walk down the narrow path ahead of him, forging the way through the overgrown brush as Sasuke follows closely behind in a vain attempt to lessen the number of blades that come in contact with him. 

The blazing late July sun beats down on them, as strong as it’ll get at its mid-day zenith. He wishes he’d brought a hat, eyes tired from the brightness and the dark crown of his head absorbing heat in an entirely unpleasant way. Not even his eyepatch is protecting him now, having been shed thirty minutes ago, too sweaty and itchy for him to tolerate. 

“Naruto-” he begins, a complaint ready on his tongue for what must be the forth time in the last hour. 

“We’re almost there,” Naruto interrupts with a chuckle, not turning around. “It’ll be worth it, I swear.”

Sasuke sighs heavily, giving the back of Naruto’s head a withering look before he squints ahead across the golden field, nothing ahead of them but a distant line of dark green forest and the clear blue sky. He feels the sweat on his skin; under his collar, down his back, only making the itching worse and the time slower. 

Just as he’s beginning to resign himself to the horrible fate of walking through the tall grass forever, Naruto comes to an abrupt halt right in front of him, sudden enough that he bumps into him, nearly overbalancing them both before he stills. 

Down a slope, completely obscured by the height of the grass until you’re practically on top of it, is a lake. A clear, blue lake, glittering like it’s studded with sapphires in the bright sunlight, secluded from all eyes as it lies in a strange indentation in the field. 

It’s not very large, but it’s beautiful, equipped with a small wooden dock tucked under the shade of what looks to be a very old oak tree. 

Sasuke can’t help but gape at the picturesque scene before him, the breeze finally cooling the sweat on his skin and ruffling his hair as he stares. 

“How did you-”

Naruto puts his hands on his hips, bumping Sasuke a little as he looks at the scene, clearly satisfied with it. “It’s granny Ichika’s land. She told me about it once when I was helping her carry her bags,” he adjusts his backpack and shrugs, “I told her it was your birthday and she agreed to let me use it.”

Sasuke can’t help the small uptick of his mouth at the thought of it: Naruto sweet talking some old lady on his behalf, pleading with her for a favor knowing damn well she’d give it to him without a second thought. 

“Guess all that flirting really did pay off, huh?” Naruto chuckles before taking Sasuke’s hand. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”

Sasuke shakes his head and allows himself to be dragged down the embankment, sandals filling with the sun-warmed dirt, kicking up dust as they go.  

The wooden dock groans under their weight as they step onto it, but it holds steady, clearly well built for how long it must have been there. Weathered but sound. 

For a moment, they stand there together in the dappled shade just looking, breathing in the sweet smell of the grass that had been so agitating moments ago. 

It’s quiet. Nothing around them but the hiss of the tall grass, the gentle lap of water against the poles of the dock, the old oak creaking softly in the breeze as it blows across the lake. 

Naruto lets out a contented sigh, sliding off his backpack with a hollow thunk onto the wooden boards before haphazardly kicking off his shoes, one of them very nearly falling into the water as he shucks off his shirt as well. 

Sasuke watches him, bemused and a little taken aback as the thoughtfulness of the gesture really sets in. This is something Naruto did for Sasuke. For his birthday. Because he thought he’d like it. 

“What?” Naruto’s voice is tinged with concern as he looks up at Sasuke, expression growing more strained with every passing second. “I know we had to walk a long way, but I thought it would be nice to surprise you. Is it-”

“It’s great,” Sasuke interrupts him, chuckling. “It’s beautiful.” 

Naruto’s exhales, tension settling into an easy, lopsided smile. “Good. That’s good.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, Sasuke unties his shirt, peeling it off and folding it up before tossing it on the dock next to Naruto’s followed shortly after by his trousers.

Naruto looks at him for a long moment before he shakes his head with a quiet laugh, shucking off his own pants and tossing them to the side before approaching Sasuke, coming closer and closer until Sasuke could reach out and touch him if he wanted to. 

He watches Naruto’s flushed chest rise and fall for a moment, mesmerizing, before he meets his eyes. After a beat, Naruto’s hand comes up to Sasuke’s shoulder, just resting there. He allows himself to revel in the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest as Naruto’s other hand rests on his waist. He feels the space between them stretched tight like a bowstring, points of contact drawing every sliver of his attention as he waits with bated breath. 

Sasuke’s eyes flick down to his mouth, his thoughts transparent as he wants them to be. 

“Naruto-”

Before he can get through an almost certainly inarticulate declaration of his desires, Naruto’s expression turns into something devious, hands tightening on Sasuke’s body, giving him only a split second of warning before he pitches them both right into the lake. 

Sasuke bursts from the cool water, gasping for air as he frantically wipes wet hair from his eyes, sputtering as he gets his bearings back. “You-” he snaps with no follow up, drowned out by the airy sound of Naruto’s laughter that echoes throughout the secluded place. 

He scowls at Naruto, eyes closed as his head tilts back, overcome by giggles. Unthinking, he drags his hand through the water, and splashes him.

Naruto coughs and sputters for a moment, wiping his eyes before a grin crosses his face and he winds up.

“No-”

Sasuke is hit with an impressive splash of water, even as he tries in vain to avoid it. No sooner has he been splashed than he returns it, just as hard. 

They go back and forth like this for quite some time, the childish antagonism that used to be the cornerstone of their relationship easy to fall back into as cries and splashes disrupt the quiet lake. 

Sasuke is starting to get exhausted, splashes getting less and less impressive when Naruto reaches out and catches his wrist before he can reel back for another offensive strike, pulling him closer instead and dissolving into laughter. Gentler laughter, this time. Private. Just enough to fill the space between them. 

Sasuke finds himself laughing too. 

Naruto smiles and sighs, bobbing up and down in the water as he stares, apparently content to just float. Sasuke is inclined to agree, glancing around the beautiful spot. The dark green leaves of the old oak, the swaying golden grass that surrounds the lake, the distorted reflections of the few lonely clouds on the shifting water. He finds that here, floating peacefully beside Naruto on the warm summer day, peace is not so hard to imagine. 

After a moment, Sasuke looks back at him, watching as Naruto’s hair drips over his eyes until Sasuke huffs a laugh and reaches up to gently push it away. 

Naruto smiles at him, catching his hand and placing it around his shoulders, pulling Sasuke closer until he can feel the warmth of his skin even through the cool water. Without a second thought, Sasuke kisses him, like it’s just that easy. 

Naruto sighs into it, reaching down to Sasuke’s thighs and hiking him up so he can wrap his legs around his middle, deepening the angle.

Sasuke smiles against his mouth despite himself, his arms wrapping around Naruto’s shoulders. Even with his eyes closed, the experience is so vivid; the way the sun flashes across them through the leaves of the oak, the flow of the water around them as they move slowly through it, the softness of Naruto’s skin and the way it still feels hot where he touches him in the dry summer air. 

After only a month of getting used to the newness of this, Sasuke still can’t deny that the feelings fill him with a sense of rightness that he’d be hard pressed to give another example of in his experiences. 

“Hey,” Naruto says softly into the space between them as he pulls away, taking his turn to brush Sasuke’s wet hair from his forehead, running his thumb over his widow’s peak, “you hungry?”

They sit on the end of the dock, feet dangling over the edge, just barely touching the water as Naruto rummages around in his bag, pulling out a large container of some sort of juice and some cups, along with plums wrapped in paper, freshly washed. 

Naruto opens the juice with a pop, pouring some for Sasuke and then himself before setting it aside. 

Sasuke smells it before trying some; peach nectar, probably from another granny that he sweet talked. It’s fresh and pleasant and somehow still cool even after having been in Naruto’s backpack for a couple of hours. 

As Naruto gulps down his own, finishing it all in one go, Sasuke pulls the plums towards himself.

“You got a knife?”

Naruto nods, plucking out a pocket knife from his pack and handing it to Sasuke wordlessly. 

Sasuke steadies a plum against his leg and begins to cut, dark red juice spilling from the soft purple flesh. Perfectly ripe.

“This is nice,” Naruto remarks as Sasuke cuts them into slices, alternating between eating one himself and handing one to Naruto, dark, sticky juice running over his fingers. “Better than the Naka, for sure. Warmer.”

“You’ve swum in the Naka?” Sasuke cuts two more slices methodically. One for him, one for Naruto. 

“Yeah,” Naruto chuckles, “Kakashi made me once when we were kids. Way too late in the summer, too. It was freezing.”

Sasuke hands him a slice. He takes it and pops it in his mouth, some of the red juice staining his fingers as well. 

“Why’d he do that?”

Naruto shrugs. “Well, I didn’t know how to swim. He said it was a safety hazard. We sat there in the cold water until I could do it on my own.”

Sasuke lets out a bitter sigh, the old disapproval of Kakashi’s tactics rearing its head. “Trial by fire was always Kakshi’s modus operandi.”

“Yeah,” Naruto sighs, “that’s Kakashi for you.”

Sasuke brushes the first plum pit aside, starting on the next one.

“How is he?” He asks, finding that as much as he would like to deny it, he does care about the answer. 

Naruto is quiet for a moment and Sasuke glances at him, his face settled into something murky and undefined. He hands him another slice of fruit and he takes it.

“He’s alright, I guess,” Naruto says noncommittally. “Busy being Hokage.”

“And is that…” he tries to search for what he really wants to ask. The crux of what he really wants to know. Are things better now? Have they changed? Has the village moved forward? “Is that going well?”

Naruto sighs heavily, leaning back on his hands as he looks out across the water. “I don’t know,” he speaks with a defeated tone that Sasuke hates hearing in his voice. “We went through so much, you know? Us, the village, everyone,” he shakes his head, “sometimes it feels like it didn’t happen at all. Like now that things are stable again, everyone just wants to go back to how things were. Everyone just wants to forget.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows raise. It’s the most he’s heard Naruto talk about his job in the nearly three months that he’s been visiting him, usually evading it or changing the subject. Perhaps this is why. 

“Naruto-”

“Look, can we- This is supposed to be a nice day. I don’t want to ruin it by talking about Konoha,” he interrupts, sitting back up and meeting Sasuke’s eyes.

Sasuke could push him, tell him that he never wants to talk about it, and this is as good a time as any. Tell him that he wants to know what’s going on in Naruto’s life when he’s not there, even if it’s unpleasant. But the pleading look in his eyes makes him hold his tongue. 

Sasuke nods, watching the flood of instant relief as it washes over Naruto’s face. He exhales, looking down at the mess that he’s made, blood-red juice covering his hand, growing tackier and tackier as the sugar congeals. He tosses the pits into the grass behind him, trying to think of the easiest way to clean up. 

Before he gets far, he hears the sound of dripping water, turning around to see Naruto turning towards him, a wet, white cloth in his hands.

He gestures for Sasuke’s hand, but he hesitates.

“It’ll stain,” he protests. 

Naruto only smiles, taking his hand anyway. Covering the dark red rivulets with the stark white cloth without a second thought, letting it soak in as he wipes his skin in slow, methodical strokes. With care, like he wants it to stain. Like that is the goal. Like Naruto’s desires meet in the middle of two opposing things; to clean, to make new, to care for, and to stain beyond repair, to dye so that no one could look at the cloth again and see anything but the blood red marks on it. 

As Sasuke lets him, cool water washing his hand until the skin beneath looks like it had never felt the sticky drips of plum juice, he doesn’t find himself surprised. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last. This is a choice that Naruto makes, again and again, and Sasuke can do nothing but respect it. 

“There,” Naruto says, giving his own fingers a cursory wipe before he stands, picking up his clothes. “We should start heading back, yeah?”

The time has gone fast, sun already at the very top of its slow descent, mid afternoon soon to bleed into evening. Sasuke nods, standing as well and taking one last glance at the lake, hoping to crystalize this moment in time forever.

___

As the old crow weathervane on the top of the house finally comes into view, the shadows are just beginning to lengthen in the afternoon sun that guilds everything under its touch. 

A pleasant tiredness begins to settle in as they walk down the familiar dirt road together hand in hand, Sasuke’s body getting looser and looser as they grow closer to Genji’s house, like it knows that as soon as they reach the gate, he can rest. 

The old fence, paint-chipped and wood rotted, comes into view and he smiles. As he looks fondly at the old sycamore, the well worn path to the porch, the faded house number painted on the gate, he realizes that he sees this as home. 

For a moment, it’s terrifying, but he takes a deep breath, and another, and another, and the fear subsides, like the tide rolling out. 

He knows it’ll be back. Such is its nature. But the panic of having something to lose is something that doesn’t hold an iron grip on him anymore. It won’t cover its ears like a child, refusing to hear anything but its own melodrama. Now, it listens to him when he assures it; I can have this. I can have a home. I can be human. 

“You okay?” Naruto asks softly, stopping at the gate that they reached without Sasuke’s notice. 

Sasuke blinks himself out of his thoughts, turning to Naruto. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Naruto smiles. “Good, because-” he trails off before nodding towards the porch. 

Sasuke follows the gesture until his eyes widen. 

“Sasuke!” Atsuko cries out, letting go of Hikari’s hand where she’s standing next to Genji, both watching with fond smiles. 

Atsuko waves before bolting down the stairs towards the gate as they walk through, letting it swing shut with the usual loud creak. She stretches out her arms, launching herself at Sasuke who bends down and catches her easily in a firm hug. 

“Happy birthday!” She squeals, tightening her hold around his neck for a second before leaning back to wiggle out of his hold with a wide grin. “Come on, come on! I want you to see your present!”

Sasuke huffs, eyebrows raising. “You got me a present?”

“We made it,” she corrects, catching his hand and pulling impatiently. 

Suspicious, Sasuke casts a glance towards Naruto only to be met with a noncommittal shrug that tells him everything he needs to know. 

The smell of his favorite of Genji’s currys is instantly apparent as they walk inside, the sweet-savory aroma making his mouth water before he’s even got his shoes off. 

Atsuko darts off into the kitchen, leaving the rest of them in the dust. Sasuke shoots Genji and Hikari a questioning look, but they just smile, Genji clapping him on the shoulder before he wordlessly follows Atsuko into the kitchen. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kid so excited,” Hikari chuckles. “Worked all afternoon. She’ll be going to bed early tonight.”

Bewildered, Sasuke looks back towards the dark kitchen before a soft glow begins to shine from around the corner. The glow grows stronger and stronger until Atsuko comes into view, holding a cake very carefully in her arms. 

Sasuke’s eyes widen. It’s beautiful; perfectly iced with strawberries adorning the top along with several small candles that flicker as Atsuko walks closer, dripping warm wax onto the surface of it. 

“Careful, Atsuko,” Genji chuckles, following closely behind her. “Here, you could put it on the table,  so-”

She doesn’t listen, standing right before Sasuke with a smile so wide that it must ache, proffering the cake to him. “We made it for you!”

Sasuke stares for a moment, completely unable to scrape together a single coherent thought from the chaos of his mind. The candles flicker gently, warm wax dripping down onto the perfectly whipped icing below, their glow emanating off the shine of the strawberries. It must have taken them hours. 

Naruto bumps him and he blinks out of his stupor, reaching out slowly to take the cake from her hands. “Thank you,” he breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hikari slaps his shoulder hard enough that it jostles the cake. “Blow out the candles, and let's eat that curry!”

Sasuke chuckles weakly, shaking his head in disbelief before taking a deep breath and blowing them out all in one go. 

The evening passes in a euphoric blur, like flashes of a dream. Laughter at the dinner table over the warm fragrant steam of curry and rice. Naruto’s steady hands cutting the strawberry cake, carefully preserving the delicate layers of cream and jam, making sure everyone is served before him. The bright, citrusy sound of Atsuko’s voice as she excitedly regales him with stories from their adventures in baking. 

Every once in a while, he gets the sensation that it isn’t real, like looking down at your hands in a dream and realizing that they aren’t really yours, some elaborate illusion your brain has created to placate you. But it passes. It always passes. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Hikari snaps at him and Naruto as they stand to take their dishes to the kitchen to start washing. 

“But, I-” Naruto tries to protest.

“Nope, you go entertain yourselves,” she chuckles and waves them off. “Leave it to me and Atsuko.”

Naruto folds quickly with a shrug. “Well, in that case,” he turns to Sasuke, nodding towards the front porch. “Wait for me out there, I have something to show you.”

Sasuke shoots him a look before conceding, wandering out into the warm summer night.

The soft white paper lanterns sway softly in the breeze, almost like fat, ripe fruit on a tree, glowing golden like if you bit into one it would be sweet, like the glow would drip from your mouth as nectar. 

He sighs, leaning against the railing, looking out at the fireflies hovering in the sea of dark grass, almost like stars in the night sky. As usual, the cicadas are loud, but it provides a grounding hum that puts him at ease. 

“Hey,” Naruto’s voice fits right in with the pleasant atmosphere, like it’s made of the same matter. 

He leans against the railing, one hand behind his back, an almost sheepish smile on his face. Sasuke orients himself to face him, just looking, waiting for him to tell him why they’re here.

Naruto opens and closes his mouth, clearly trying to find his words, before he shakes his head and pulls out what looks to be a very poorly wrapped gift, paper taped unevenly with a ribbon haphazardly tied around it. Sasuke feels the corner of his mouth twitch.  

“Look, I know you said you didn’t want anything, but-” he shrugs helplessly, handing the gift to Sasuke. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Sasuke holds his gaze for a moment before he sets it on the ledge, carefully unwrapping it, piece by piece. As the object is revealed, his eyes widen. 

On the worn cover of the ancient book, it reads; Uchiha Myths and Legends: A Collection and Retrospective by Uchiha Asashi.

He carefully opens it, pages yellowed and delicate, like if you held them up to a candle, they would be completely translucent, only the small, neat characters showing up in the light. It has to be decades old at least. 

“Where did you even-” Sasuke shakes his head in disbelief. 

Naruto rubs the back of his head with his palm, looking off to the side. “Ah, it wasn’t so hard. Just called in a few favors, you know?”

Sasuke knows that for Naruto to even admit that much likely means that it was quite a lot of trouble. 

“Is it…alright?” Naruto asks with the same concern he did at the lake, this underlying feeling that Sasuke won’t meet him where he is. Like he’s scared to chase him off with one wrong move. 

Sasuke rests the book on the ledge and wraps his arm around Naruto’s back, pulling him into a hug. 

It only takes a beat for Naruto to melt into it, arms winding firmly around Sasuke, like that’s what they were always meant to do. Sasuke breathes deeply, the warm, familiar scent of him settling in Sasuke like a comforter thrown over fresh sheets. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs into his shoulder, holding him just a little closer. 

“Anything, for you,” Naruto replies, temple resting against Sasuke’s. 

Sasuke closes his eyes, waiting for the fear. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to open his eyes, lying in bed in this ratty apartment in Konoha just to stare at the gray, water stained ceiling with no reason to pull himself out from under the covers. 

But the moment never comes, he feels the warmth, the steadiness, the care, and when he opens his eyes, it stays. 

“Naruto,” Atsuko calls out, door hissing as she opens it. “Grandpa is asking for you.”

Naruto reluctantly pulls away, resting a hand at the side of Sasuke’s neck for a moment with a smile, before he sighs. “Duty calls.”

Sasuke chuckles, waving him off. “I’m going to stay out here for a minute.”

Naruto nods, letting go of him and following Atsuko back inside with the click of the door sliding shut behind them. 

Sasuke sighs, facing the yard again as he runs his fingers over the worn book, a deep sense of guilt creeping through him. He realizes it’s been a long time since he held something like this in his hand as he presses his thumb to the faded Uchiha crest at the top of the cover. The symbol has morphed into something that’s lost its original meaning, no longer representative to him of his people , but only of the violence and pain that surrounded them. 

As he looks at the illustration on the cover of Tsukuyomi chasing Amaterasu across the night sky, he feels that it’s his own fault. Perhaps he treated his people the same way everyone else did; seeing only violence and discarding everything that really matters.

“Naruto give that to you?” Sasuke jumps at the sound of Hikari’s voice beside him, not having noticed her come out. The ledge creaks as she leans her elbows on it, nodding to the book. 

He swallows, nodding and handing it to her. 

Hikari examines the cover, eyebrows drawing together as the wheels clearly begin to turn in her mind. Sasuke shifts, the familiar tension of being discovered making itself at home. His impulse is to reach out and take back the book, to change the subject, offer some sort of diversion or evasion that will camouflage him, but he stops himself. He doesn’t want to take steps backwards anymore.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but…” Hikari trails off, meeting his eyes, searching for an answer that Sasuke’s sure she can find for herself. “Are you-”

Sasuke looks at her for a second, unable to find the words. But he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t look away or evade. 

Hikari’s eyes widen, and he knows that is enough, understanding sweeping across her face like curtains thrust open in a dusty room. He feels it; the blinding sting of the sun in his eyes as they adjust, but after a moment he’s left with the rich warmth of the light pouring through the stale, dusty air, and it’s alright again. 

“When my mom was talking about the Uchiha- The look on your face- I thought that maybe…” she trails off again, looking back at the book, carefully opening it. “I don’t know what I thought, but it was clear that it meant something to you. I just didn’t quite put it together.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” he shrugs stiffly, not achieving the air of uncaring that he desperately wants to display. “I didn’t want anyone to know.” 

Hikari sighs, a heaviness in the lines of her face as she gently turns the pages, looking at the faded illustrations. 

“My parents, they left Water Country after the war,” she says softly, running her fingers over an image of a warrior at the top of a hill, looking out across the land, all alone. “After everything that happened, people were afraid of the ice release. Took it out on everyone who had it, so it wasn’t safe for them to stay after I was born. The trait is latent, so they wouldn’t have known until it was too late, and it runs in my family, so…”

Sasuke studies her as she speaks, the detachment in her voice familiar. The failure to keep the emotions out of her eyes familiar, too. 

“My parents would fight about it all the time. Mom thought we should be proud of where we came from, but my dad- I don’t know, I think he’d seen more of the fighting first hand. More of the ugliness. He wanted to be completely separated from it,” she closes the book with an exhale. “I guess I’m trying to say that I understand.”

Sasuke nods towards the customary metal rings around the pieces of Hikari’s hair that frame her face. “You don’t hide anymore.”

She grasps one of the pieces, rolling it in her fingers. “It got easier when they weren’t alone anymore, I think,” she murmurs.

Sasuke doesn’t have to ask what she means, the implication stark in front of them, like it takes up physical space. 

We were outsiders, he hears Mayumi’s voice in his mind, clear as day. The Uchiha were kind to us. They understood what we had been through .

“Do you remember them?” He swallows to keep his voice even. 

“I was pretty young,” she sighs, “but I remember this senbei shop.”

Sasuke feels an ache so sharp he’s afraid the next breath won’t come. 

“This old couple ran it, I can’t remember their names…” she trails off, looking back at the book. 

Sasuke bites at his lip for a moment before taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“Teyaki and Uruchi,” Sasuke supplies, voice barely above a whisper.

Hikari’s eyes brighten as she looks up at him, disbelieving. “Yeah, Teyaki and Uruchi,” she laughs, brittle. “They were kind to me. Knew my parents, I think. They’d give me rice crackers for free sometimes even though I wasn’t part of your clan.”

It feels so good to hear someone else talk about his people like this, without malice, without prejudice. It’s nice to know that someone else holds the memories that he’s afraid he’ll lose to time every day.

Sasuke smiles, watery and aching, at his memories of them. “I was a quiet kid,” he says, and the expression on Hikari’s face tells him that this does not surprise her at all. “They’d tease me about it, especially since-” especially since I was the clan leader’s kid. Especially since I didn’t live up to that. “But still, they were kind.”

Hikari’s expression is warm. Not pitying, or unsettled, just understanding and happy. Like she really does want to hear what he has to say. 

“Thank you for telling me, Sasuke,” she says after a long moment, and he knows she’s not just talking about the senbei shop. 

As the night winds down after that- Atsuko falling asleep on the couch, having to be carried to bed, and Hikari making her way home with a slice of cake- Sasuke finds himself standing outside of Genji’s door. 

He can see the warm glow of the light on through the translucent door along with sounds of him shuffling around inside. He knows he’s awake, he just can’t bring himself to knock. 

In the bathroom, he can hear the muffled hiss of the shower, Naruto getting ready for bed, and he takes comfort in it. At least then Naruto doesn’t have to see him stalling outside the door, as if Genji is an enemy combatant and not the kind old man he lives with. 

He sits on the precipice, the edge of the event horizon, with the full knowledge that there is no going back once he steps off. No matter how much he reasons with himself that Genji is kind and understanding, that he’s never been judgemental when it matters, it doesn’t change the fact that this is an irreversible decision, and if it goes wrong-

He doesn’t want to think about that. Sasuke breathes deeply and raises his knuckles. He thinks about the alternative, continuing to live in half-truths and shadows, never truly being seen, and he finally knocks. 

“Come in,” Genji calls, a creaking sound accompanying his voice. 

Sasuke swallows, exhaling quickly before sliding the door open and stepping in, letting it click shut behind him.

Genji smiles warmly from where he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, book in hand. “Ah, is Atsuko awake again? I thought perhaps I was off story-duty tonight.”

Sasuke shakes his head. “No, she’s not.”

He nods, gesturing for Sasuke to come in from where he’s lingering stiffly by the door. “What can I do for you, then, kid?”

Sasuke willfully unfreezes himself, taking a seat in the old wooden chair by Genji’s bedside.

Genji looks at him with those patient, steady eyes, and it both calms Sasuke and terrifies him. The sheer idea of that expression turning to disappointment is almost too awful to stomach. He glances down at his lap. 

“I’ve been here exactly a year,” he says, as good a beginning as any. 

“You have,” Genji replies softly. “You’ve come a long way in just a year.”

Sasuke feels his throat tighten, fear beginning to take hold of him. The possibility of loss something so reflexively horrifying that it almost feels predictable now. 

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he continues before he can talk himself out of it. “About who I am. Where I came from. I-”

Genji holds up a hand, stopping him. He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out to his bedside drawer, rummaging around for a minute before pulling something out. A piece of cloth. 

Genji examines it in his own hands for a moment before he gives it to Sasuke. 

Sasuke’s eyes widen as he takes it, almost disbelieving of what he’s seeing. 

“Where did you get this?” He breathes, his reality beginning to tilt around him.

“When we found you half-dead at the old Uchiha hideout, it was lying next to you. Looked like you’d torn it off your sleeve,” Genji clasps his hands together, no change of tone evident in his voice. 

Sasuke’s vision begins to blur as he looks down at the Uchiha crest, stained with blood and torn, but easily identifiable all the same. Memories, half formed, filter through his mind; the sting of the kunai against his skin as he cut it off, the chill of his body as he lay in the crater filling with rain.

The tears begin to fall, wetting the old fabric just like the rain had back then. “You knew,” Sasuke whispers, voice breaking as he shakes his head. 

“I’m no genius, but I put two and two together,” he shrugs. “At first, I didn’t know who you were exactly, but once I saw your eye-” he sighs, “well, even us civilians know about something like the Rinnegan.”

Sasuke can’t even make out the crest now, tears blurring his vision so thoroughly. He couldn’t stop them from falling even if he wanted to, the overwhelming feelings too great to force into anything close to manageable. 

“You know who I am,” he rasps again, shaking his head. “Then you know what I’ve done?” His throat is so tight that he can hardly get his words out, but he knows that Genji hears him.

For a long, stifling moment, it’s silent. Only the distant sound of the cicadas in the trees fill the space. 

“Well, I’m not as privy to the shinobi world as some other people, but I got the jist of it, yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Sasuke finally meets his eyes, desperate to be able to discern the truth. 

“Life is complicated, kid. And from what I can tell, your life has been more complicated than most,” Genji sighs, tilting his head to the side with a small smile. “But it is not an act of wickedness to react to the things that happen to you. It is not something that stains you forever.”

Sasuke sniffs, tears streaming down his face, and for a moment he feels like he’s young again. He feels like he’s fallen down and scraped his knee, his mother wiping his tears away and telling him everything will be okay. 

After a moment, Sasuke reaches behind his head, sliding off his eyepatch. Useless, now. Useless, all this time. He rests it on his lap and wipes away his tears. 

“Some things,” he croaks, a weak rebuttal, “some people can’t be forgiven.”

“That’s true, kid,” Genji murmurs back. “But these are not those things. And you are not those people.”

Sasuke feels the choking cry that comes from himself, a cathartic release of fear and relief as the silent tears morph into wracking sobs. He heaves, making no attempt at holding himself back, about making himself, his grief, his fear, his love, any smaller. He just lets it come out as it will. 

He feels Genji’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer. His knees hit the wooden floor, tipping forward into his chest, warmth and familiar pine scent surrounding him as he cries, sinking his fingers into the linen of Genji’s nightshirt. 

Genji rubs his back, up and down in methodical strokes. Sasuke matches his breaths to them, and slowly things begin to even out again. Just as the pain comes, it goes. Such is its nature. 

He feels the weight of Genji’s cheek on the top of his head. His voice, murmuring indistinct comforts that Sasuke can’t discern, but work all the same. He takes deep breaths until he comes back to himself. 

“You were holding onto that pretty tight, huh kid?” Genji speaks into the crown of his head, hand still rubbing his back after a few long moments. 

Sasuke slowly sits back, unclenching his hand from Genji’s shirt to wipe away his tears. He knows he should be embarrassed, but Genji’s seen him in worse conditions than this. 

He nods.

Genji smiles softly, a little sad as he places his hand on the top of Sasuke’s head for a moment before he lets it fall. “I’m glad you could finally let go.”

Sasuke looks down at his hand, still holding the Uchiha crest, and he frowns. His head aches, exhausted now, but a question still lingers in his mind. 

“Why did you save it all this time?”

“I know that sometimes, it seems best to throw away everything that hurts you. Just burn it all down until there’s nothing left, like that will protect you,” he looks at Sasuke, gaze steady in the low light. “But when I looked at you, lying on the Uchiha crest, I thought that one day you may want it back.”

Sasuke runs his thumb over it. He thinks of his months all alone. He thinks of the aching emptiness of complete and utter detachment. He thinks of the tearing, splitting pain of connection. He thinks of love. 

“Is there no way to avoid it?” He whispers, looking up at Genji. It almost feels like praying, like one last desperate attempt to ask for absolution when he knows that by now, it’s too late for him. “The pain?”

Genji sighs, heavy and even, like he expected the question. “No,” he smiles, “but that’s the point, kid. To bleed is to know we are alive.” 

And that has always been the truth, hasn’t it? No matter how he’s tried to protect himself, to seal himself away from the world for fear that it will injure him as it has many times before, he can’t help himself. He can’t stop opening his veins to the air, just to watch the rivers of red flow from him. He thinks that it will bleed him dry, but if that is the cost of feeling something, then so be it. If there is no living without pain, then he will hurt. But it will not be the pain of vacancy, of numbness, of haunting his own existence, but rather the pain of everything else. Of everything the world has to offer him. 

“It will always hurt?”

“It will always hurt,” Genji nods, and he looks at Sasuke with a warmth and an honesty that Sasuke feels in his body. “But that’s magnificent, isn’t it?”