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The dirt is familiar.
As a shinobi, it’s on him more often than not. It clings to his hair, his clothes, his shoes—filth he can’t wait to wash away. It stirs too many unwelcome memories of years past, when dirt lived beneath nails he was never taught how to clean, his days made up of spittle-filled curses and rotten food and cold showers. Now he has memories of the war, too, and how it tore the earth apart, saturating it with so much blood that for a time, he couldn’t smell one without the other.
But this is different. This, he touches with purpose, to create instead of to destroy. He thought maybe it wouldn’t work, that he’d forgotten how to be gentle after so long of being a weapon. Yet the seeds germinate and grow, thriving beneath attentive hands and loving praise, and by the last frost, they’re ready to transplant. It’s his first time having a proper garden—planting in the ground, instead of in pots and buckets on his apartment balcony—but they had enough D-rank missions assisting farmers that he’s confident in what to do.
He thinks of Sasuke, and how they were the only D-ranks he never complained about. Sasuke looked different with his hands in the ground, an ephemeral calm replacing his usual thirst for power and vengeance. Once, he made an offhand remark about his mother and how she planted catnip to deter rabbits, inadvertently making their house a favorite amongst the compound’s stray cats. Then his expression shuttered and he spent the rest of the day taunting Naruto until they sparred to exhaustion on the training grounds, never mentioning his mother or her garden again.
Naruto checks the seedlings obsessively that first week. Wilt never comes; they flourish in the sunny space he’s spent weeks cultivating, clearing weeds and optimizing soil just as the books advise. He brims with pride and as they grow, so too does his anticipation. Every stem, every leaf, every flower is a reminder that summer is one day closer, and with summer comes Sasuke.
In the beginning, Sasuke's letters were brief. Rare, too—Naruto would reread the same few words for months on end, fingers tracing the long-dried ink over and over as he lay awake each night, alone in his big new house that has never felt quite like home. But gradually, their correspondence became more regular, Sasuke sharing more about his travels and inquiring about Naruto's life as if he didn't already write about everything noteworthy that happened to him. One thing remained the same for the entire two and a half years: Naruto never asked if Sasuke was coming back, and Sasuke never told him.
It was a surprise, then, when Sasuke wrote that he was returning to Konoha that summer, a mere four months away.
Naruto had bought the seeds the next day.
It’s a week before Sasuke’s birthday when Naruto senses his chakra signature approaching from outside of the village, unconcealed but restrained, enough for only those attuned to his chakra to recognize. He’s tempted to race to the village gates to meet him, but something holds him back. The first time Sasuke left, Naruto had been too busy worrying about bringing him back to dwell on how their relationship had changed during their time apart. This time, they were on good terms when Sasuke left and over the past year, they’ve become closer despite the distance between them. In some ways, the distance helped that closeness develop, and Naruto doesn’t know if that will translate to seeing each other face-to-face.
And maybe, part of him wants to be the one who’s found.
He’s sweeping the engawa when he spots Sasuke’s lithesome figure in the distance, silhouetted by the setting sun. The sight makes Naruto’s heart leap. How many times has he dreamt of a scene just like this? Sasuke coming back to him, not beaten and dragged by Naruto’s fist, but of his own accord? He doesn’t dare think about how it’s temporary, leaning on his broomstick as Sasuke finally comes close.
They stare at each other until Naruto can no longer suppress the grin that splits his face. “Took you long enough, bastard.”
To his relief, conversation flows easily from there. Soon, Naruto grabs the basket of tomatoes he’d harvested that morning and settles down on the edge of the engawa, tossing over one of the small yellow ones when Sasuke sits beside him. “I’d never had this kind before. Aren’t they pretty?” He watches as it disappears behind Sasuke’s lips. "How is it?"
"Sweet," Sasuke answers.
"But you don't like sweet things," Naruto says, teasing but also a little nervous, afraid that all of his hard work has been for naught.
"No." Sasuke looks at him as he pops another into his mouth. It flashes between his teeth like gold. "But I like these."
Naruto averts his gaze, acutely aware of the telltale flutter in his chest. He stretches his arms out high above his head and forces a drawn-out sigh, aiming for nonchalance. "Yeah, well, you better. I grew them just for you, y’know."
"That's why I like them."
“That’s—” Naruto clears his throat, skin prickling with goosebumps he blames on the incoming chill of nightfall. He glances back at Sasuke just to make sure he’s still there, that this isn't one of the infinite daydreams he's played out in his mind over and over again. “Good.”
Sasuke’s eyes narrow, the way they used to when he was trying to figure something out. Or when he was waiting for Naruto to figure something out, which happened far more often.
He’d forgotten how it felt, being in Sasuke’s presence like this—always three steps behind unless they’re in the heat of battle, adrenaline pushing his mind to think faster, sharper, smarter. But in these moments of calm, it’s harder to think straight, too many conflicting thoughts and emotions making it impossible for his hyperactive mind to focus.
Sasuke takes another tomato and rolls it between his fingers. The simple movement is mesmerizing, a subtle display of Sasuke’s dexterity. As children, everything Sasuke did seemed so precise, never a wasted action or mistake. And it seemed to come so easily, an effortless perfection that made Naruto seethe with jealousy and ache with admiration.
Now, he knows better. He knows how hard Sasuke trained, how much he sacrificed. How much he sacrifices still, being here in the village for Naruto’s sake. Now, knowing the truth of Sasuke’s fallibility has turned that admiration into something deeper, something that makes Naruto’s goals and aspirations turn to dust next to his desire to do whatever it takes to find and sustain Sasuke’s happiness.
"We could plant cabbage in the fall."
Naruto nods before the words have fully sunk in. Then, they spear through him, hot and sharp like lightning, his nerves thrumming with electricity. He holds it all in, fearful that any outburst will break the spell and expose his hope as fiction. “I’ve, uh, never grown cabbage before.”
Sasuke hums softly, lifting his gaze to lock eyes with Naruto once more. As collected as he appears, Naruto can see the muscle tensed in his jaw, the curious gleam in his eyes—pleading, almost, in a way he hasn’t seen since the Valley of the End. Sasuke drops the tomato back into the basket, his hand falling to the floor scant inches from Naruto’s. “Do you want to try?”
“I—yes,” he says quickly, then sucks in a breath, trying to slow his pounding heart. His fingers edge closer to Sasuke’s, halting just before their pinkies touch. We, he repeats in his head, and exhales. “We could do spinach, too.”
The corner of Sasuke’s mouth tilts up. “Two vegetables? Wouldn’t want to overwhelm your digestive system."
"I eat vegetables!" Naruto shouts, indignant. He begins rambling about how it hadn’t seemed right to have such a nice kitchen and not even know how to use it, so he had Teuchi teach him how to cook, but he’s stopped by Sasuke’s sudden and unexpected laughter. It’s not the cruel laugh that echoes in his nightmares, heartrending in its contempt. It’s… new. Honest, free, and a lump inexplicably forms in Naruto’s throat, making his voice come out in a broken whisper. “What’s so funny?”
Sasuke just shakes his head. His eyes drift to the sky, where the sun kisses the horizon, the vibrant reds and golds slowly receding like a dying flame. He looks older, now, more like a man than a boy, all broad shoulders and harsh lines. His eyes, though—those look soft. His lips, too. “I missed you.”
“Oh.” Naruto sniffs, looking away in the other direction, and drums his fingers on the wooden floorboards. “Well, of course you did. I’m amazing, and your best friend, and—”
“The most powerful shinobi in the world,” Sasuke interrupts, smiling. It’s become a private joke, Sasuke sharing in his letters how even the most remote villages he’s traveled to have heard of Naruto, how everyone everywhere now knows him as the most powerful shinobi in the world. But his tone isn’t mocking, it’s fond. “I suppose you have everything you ever wanted, now.”
Not everything, Naruto thinks.
He startles when Sasuke’s hand closes over his, quelling his anxious fingers. Then his hold loosens but his hand remains, rough and warm overtop Naruto’s own smooth skin. Naruto stares, wide-eyed, but Sasuke still gazes ahead, his focus having dropped to the garden sprawled before them.
“You planted catnip.”
“Y-yeah,” Naruto stutters out. He feels like he used to before a battle, eager and excited and only a little afraid, back when he didn’t yet know even victory could be devastating. “You… mentioned it once and I just—well, always remembered.”
Sasuke doesn’t say anything. It’s too quiet and Naruto has to do something, so he turns his hand over and holds Sasuke’s properly, his face warming as he looks down to watch their fingers intertwine. Then he frowns and pulls Sasuke’s hand into his lap, simultaneously retrieving a kunai from his leg pouch. “Your nails are filthy,” he mutters, and proceeds to expertly scrape the dirt from Sasuke’s thumbnail with the tip of his blade.
"My mother used to do that." Sasuke glances at him, then away again. “My father told her to stop babying me, but she insisted on cleaning me up after training. She said she had to, while…”
“While what?”
“While she still could.” Sasuke’s hand twitches, like he wants to curl it into a fist, but he forces it to relax and Naruto continues on, meticulously cleaning each nail one by one. “Itachi was only seven when he graduated from the Academy.”
Seven, twelve—they were all too young, Naruto thinks. He still feels too young, and he’s almost twenty.
He sets the kunai aside when he’s finished. His fingertips explore Sasuke’s palm, mapping every scar and callus, but before he's done Sasuke reaches up to stroke gentle fingers through Naruto’s hair.
“She did this, too.”
Naruto’s insides twist. He gives Sasuke a smile that’s part sad, part hopeful. “Is this what it was like, then? Having a—a family?”
Sasuke’s voice is soft, like his eyes and his lips and the brush of his thumb under Naruto’s eye. “This is what it’s like,” he murmurs, “loving someone.”
The fragility of the elation Naruto feels is terrifying. Still, he makes himself speak. “You’re staying.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Naruto covers the hand that cradles his cheek with his own, turning his head to kiss where Sasuke's pulse thrums. “I’d go with you. If—if you—” His voice cracks, and Sasuke wipes the wetness from his face.
“Naruto. I’m staying here.”
“With me.” He laughs, then. Sasuke must think he’s a mess, but he only leans in closer, tilting Naruto’s face upward.
“With you.”
Sasuke tastes like his tomatoes: sweetness, warmth, devotion. And suddenly, a word he’s never before spoken is spilling from Naruto’s lips.
“Tadaima."
Sasuke chuckles, those soft eyes crinkling with affection. "You've got it backwards, usuratonkachi."
"No," Naruto whispers, "I don't."
The expression on Sasuke's face crumples. He looks like he did all of those years ago with his hands in the dirt—childlike, vulnerable, yet finally at peace. His fingers sink into Naruto's hair, pulling him in until their bare foreheads touch. And like that—no village or conflicting allegiance between them, just them, and their bond that transcends all else—he welcomes Naruto home.