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Naruto’s drunk. Properly drunk, drunk enough that the lights of the izakaya frayed at the edges and the room spun if he looked around too quickly.
It’s worth mentioning that he’s never been this drunk before. Ever. He shook his head, addicted to the dizzying feeling, and the contents of his stomach lurched.
Across the table from him, Sakura raised her beer-heavy head from the table and fixed him with a hard stare. She was almost as pink as her hair, flush high on her cheeks and mottling her chest. Over the din of similarly-drunken locals celebrating the 10th War Anniversary, she said, “but he’s in love with you.”
The fact that he had heard this said a thousand times prior did not lessen its sting. Even now, so drunk that the world felt like a warm bath, it pinched like a stapler gun to the hand. “Keep saying it and maybe one day it’ll come true.”
Sakura groaned, her head thudding back down onto the wooden table. Naruto scoffed at her, slugging back his lemon highball and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Humour me,” she pleaded, holding both her hands up. “Just hear me out.”
“I hear you out every time.”
“Well hear me out again and maybe this time you can try believing it.” She rolled her head to the side to glare at him, though her gaze was distant and watery. Alcohol only made Sakura brave and irritatingly talkative, especially on subjects Naruto wanted to run away from more than anything.
That said, every time the two of them were out somewhere this dead horse was the only thing they beat. And dear gods, did they hound that poor thing. It was even worse today, because for his birthday Tsunade had given him a little bottle of specially-fermented something she insisted would make them both forget their names. To say it was hitting like a freight train was an understatement.
Proudly, Sakura said, “As someone who was in love with Sasuke myself, thus any interaction between the two of you forced me to sit somewhere between profound jealousy and incredible denial, I can firmly attest to it.”
“Right. And what—” Naruto accepted a new glass pressed into his hands by some stranger and added a few drops from his flask.“What did you see through your love-struck eyes?”
“Everything you saw, but through the lens of fury,” she replied dreamily. “Everything nice he learned how to do he learned for you. Oh, share your food with someone. Oh, risk your life for someone. Oh, my body moved on its own. All you!” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You stole all my potential firsts!”
“I didn’t mean to,” he protested, albeit smugly. “He just—did all that. By himself.”
“You even kissed him first.”
“That was an accident,” Naruto replied delicately. “Do not remind me of it.”
“Why? Cause it’ll break your heart you haven’t been able to kiss him again?” Sakura slammed the hammer down on the nail in Naruto’s poor, wounded heart. He watched it spurt red all over the table.
“I want to kiss him, he doesn’t want to kiss me. We’ve been over this,” Naruto placated. “Drink some water, will you?” He poured her some from a jug on the table, watching amusedly as she sloshed it over her chin and dripped some onto her disco pants.
She cursed and swatted at her trousers. “Just how are you not drunk?” She asked. “I’m fucking hammered.”
“I know,” Naruto leaned his chin on his palm adoringly. “I can tell.”
“I’ve never been this drunk in my life.”
“It’s novel,” he admitted.
“What the fuck did Tsunade give us?”
“I don’t know, but you’re feeling it tomorrow morning.” Grinning at her, he knocked their glasses together and took another big swig.
Sakura tossed it back. “He wants to kiss you. It was practically beaming out of the Sharingan,” she mimed lasers coming out of her eyes. “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. If you’d kissed him instead of taking his bloody arm off I think it’d have worked just as well.”
Naruto played back the fight in his head. To be fair, there were ample opportunities for him to grab Sasuke by the scruff of his clothes and lay a big smacker on him. He’s not a hundred percent convinced it wouldn’t have resulted in him losing his lips though. And his other arm. And his life, maybe.
“It’s been ten years,” Naruto sighed. “Give it a rest.”
“When he came back two years ago for your birthday, I saw him reach out to try and touch you, then stop just before he did it. Like, eighteen times. He gave you a jewel!”
Naruto’s hand shot up, fingering the pendant dangling from his neck on reflex. It glinted out from its bed of silver, as blue as his eyes, the back of the setting engraved with the Uzumaki clan symbol.
“He said he chanced upon the gem.”
“Chanced upon it?!” Sakura was starting to sound shrill. “A blue diamond? Give me a break.”
“If he was in love with me, he’d write more,” Naruto said, trying his hardest not to sound morose and failing. He took another gulp to make up for it. “He’d, he’d send more letters than a once-a-month post-it note. Not these grand gifts.”
“Sasuke’s shit at love!” Sakura cried. “I reckon if he knows he’s in love with you he’s doing it on purpose. ‘Cause he doesn’t have me to tell him that you’re in love with him.” She gestured so violently she almost upset the water jug and knocked a waitress over.
Naruto was quiet for a moment. “In love with him seems a little shallow to describe the depth of my affection for him.”
Sakura stared at him. A shadow flitted across her eyes; her bottom lip curled in disgust. Then shrieking at the top of her lungs, she lunged across and grabbed Naruto by his collar.
They were kicked out soon after by the simultaneously entertained and disgruntled owner, who cuffed Naruto on the back of his head but still wished him a happy birthday. Sakura gripped his arm as they walked back to Naruto’s house, alternating between muttering “I’m going to fucking kill you,” under her breath and sighing deeply.
Naruto loved her. Here love also seemed too shallow a word to describe his regard for her, he loved her in some bizarre, all-encompassing way, needed her like she was the second-half to everything he’d ever been. Who gave a shit whether Sasuke was here for his birthday party?
“Quit stumbling,” Sakura elbowed him just as Naruto tripped over his own feet, and they both nearly fell into an abandoned stack of empty crates.
“You’re stumbling!” Naruto protested, breathless with laughter as they righted themselves. “Wait. I think I got turned around. ‘M lost.”
Sakura turned left, then right, her eyebrows crossing. “It is very, very, irresponsible of Tsunade to give us the bottle and not tell us,” she swayed where she stood. “Not tell us how strong it was.”
“We drank almost half,” Naruto pulled the bottle out of his coat and gave it a few experimental shakes. Inside, the colourless liquid swirled, looking deceptively innocent as the amber street lamps illuminated it. He held out the bottle to her. “Gimme a hit.”
Sakura stared at him, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “You’re insane,” she crowed, with such visible delight that Naruto grinned back just as wide. Snatching the bottle from his hand, she gestured for him to bend down.
Naruto did, but the angle was awkward, so he slid to his knees. The pavement scraped against the skin which peeked through the gaping holes in his jeans.
“Head back,” Sakura’s practiced fingers gripped his chin. She loomed above him, gorgeous in the moonlight.
Obediently, Naruto tipped his head back and opened his mouth.
The alcohol—potion, concoction, poison—didn’t taste like anything when it hit his tongue directly. Sakura shook in one, two, five, six, drops, then held his mouth shut till he swallowed.
Kurama rumbled, displeased.
“It’ll be fine, buddy,” Naruto dismissed aloud. He wobbled to his feet, took one step, and pitched right over.
With the sound of Sakura’s gleeful laughter ringing in his ears and a bloody nose he’s lucky he didn’t break, they somehow made it back to Naruto’s apartment. He couldn’t get the front door open, but the lock miraculously turned when both he and Sakura gripped the key together.
“The power of friendship,” Sakura whispered, as they slammed the door open and tumbled into the apartment.
“Look at us, eh?” Naruto cheered, falling against the door trying to shut it. He twisted the lock once, then sagged limply to the floor.
“The whole room is spinning,” moaned Sakura. She joined Naruto in accepting her fate as a denizen of the ground, crawling pathetically to the hallway bathroom.
“Water and painkillers by your bed,” Naruto grunted, eyes sliding shut and snapping open. “Changed the sheets this mornin’. You’re good.”
“When was your house so big?”
Naruto looked at her and did a spit take so violent his entire body shook. “You’re going in circles,” he heaved, in between gasps of breath.
He pulled himself up through sheer force of will, bending down to pick up her lax body. Together, they made it into the bathroom and they sat down on the edge of the bathtub. Naruto raided his mirror cabinet, none-too-gently attacking her face with makeup wipes.
“That stings,” Sakura pouted.
“This or I hose you down,” Naruto peeled the falsies from her eyelashes.
“This is pretty good,” she said quickly. He tossed the wipes in the trash, went over her face with a washcloth, then pronounced her squeaky clean and still beautiful. Sakura took it from his hands and wiped the blood from his nose, giggling.
They brushed their teeth, spat, rinsed. Excited to be done, Sakura leapt up and immediately slipped on the bathmat. Her arm flailed out, seeking the only stable thing in the vicinity, and it landed on Naruto. They both crashed into the bathtub in a heap of tangled limbs and yelling.
Naruto’s hand managed to guard the back of her head while Sakura had let her arm tank Naruto’s. Having protected each other from an undignified death, they both collapsed. Naruto pressed his cheek into the cool enamel of the tub. “Can’t get up,” he groaned.
“Goodnight,” said Sakura.
“Wha—” Naruto’s mouth opened, eyebrows crossing together. “‘S good morning, Saku-ra-chan. Past midnight. Good morn—”
In his drunken haze, someone opened the door. A warm body, strong, sturdy and as big as him, clambered into the tub and laid down on top of him. They kissed his cheek, gentle as butterfly wings.
His eyes snapped open, chasing the lingering feeling of a calloused hand on his skin. Hashirama’s dick and balls, did he have a crick in his neck. He took a second to get his bearings—it was immensely unsettling that the first thing he saw was the reproachful gaze of his showerhead.
Morning light had just begun to filter into the bathroom, illuminating the little flecks of shiny stuff embedded in his blue mosaic tiles. Nestled into his side, head pillowed on his shoulder was Sakura, her face serene in sleep. Every exhale escaped her with a puff and a small squeak, which made Naruto wish he had the video recorder so he could tape it.
The bathtub’s unforgiving enamel mocked him mercilessly for choosing to spend the night here, but he was relieved to find that even against Tsunade’s batch of world-ending, liver-destroying alcohol his healing factor had triumphed. Kurama had risen spectacularly to the occasion.
A scoff rattled his bones. Naruto squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands together in thankful prayer. Sakura—poor Sakura, who needed to be awake to use her chakra to cure her hangover, didn’t stir. Grunting, he slipped out of her hold, wriggled his hands underneath her body and lifted her effortlessly. With light feet he made his way to the spare bedroom and gently laid her down, tucking in the sheets around her.
Then he went to his own room, pitched forward onto the bed and fell asleep again. It was hunger that finally roused him; he opened his eyes to the scent of fresh coffee and the soft clinking of tableware coming from his living room. Groaning, he swung his legs out of bed and padded into the living room, squinting against the bright light.
Sakura was already up and looking rather put together considering the ordeal they went through last night, bed hair notwithstanding.
“He lives,” she gave him a withering look.
“Hey, I carried you to bed.” Naruto protested, sliding into the seat next to her and raiding the bags of takeout.
“I got ramen. It’s not Ichiraku’s, but—”
“I love you.”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Sakura scolded. “But it’ll do. And there’s coffee. Extra sweet, how you like it.” She wrinkled her nose, clearly saying it was how she didn’t like it.
“Love you again,” said Naruto. The ramen was still warm. As he mixed the broth and the noodles he thought again of how lucky he was to be alive right now. The TV was playing some rerun of a trivia game show. Next to him Sakura flipped idly through the junk mail magazines he kept getting, raising an eyebrow at some of the more outlandish advertisements.
By the time he was done with his food he felt like a proper human again, though he had yet to set the upsetting dream of Sasuke’s hand on his body aside. Naruto could still feel his palm on his chin, his lips on his skin, and could tell you that he smelled like Naruto’s body soap.
“You got a call, by the way,” Sakura told him while he was washing up.
“A call?”
“From the post office. Something about a large shipment.”
Naruto frowned. “I’m not expecting anything.”
“Maybe it’s from lover boy,” Sakura said, nonplussed. “Maybe he’s gifting you a fifty-pound ruby since you can’t seem to get the hint.”
“Ha ha. If he were gifting me a fifty-pound ruby, he’d be here in person.” Naruto stuck his tongue out at her. Still, Sasuke’s gift, usually so timely, hadn’t arrived. It could be from Sasuke. Maybe Sasuke himself was the gift and he was just…waiting at the post office.
“I’ll walk you home and pick it up on the way,” Naruto said, glancing at her for permission. When she nodded, he hurried to get ready.
Quick shower. Brush teeth. Nick yourself shaving because the post office has weird hours and you’re never sure when it closed. Or when it was open. It’s a mystical place that operated on luck and the ancient Lunar calendar. Douse yourself in deodorant. Two spritzes of your lucky cologne that smells like oranges. Moisturise your ashy elbows.
By the time he skids to the living room, Sakura is already dressed, showered and changed, wearing one of Naruto’s old shirts and a pair of shorts from when he was eight years younger. Her affectionately named “whore outfit” hung over her arm.
“You’re slow.”
“I don’t know how you’re so fast. Aren’t girls supposed to take twice as long?”
Sakura eyed him up and down as he unlocked the door. “Why do you smell like that? You don’t actually think Sasuke’s going to be sitting in a box at the post office, do you?”
Naruto pinked. “You never know,” he said airily.
“What, you think he just packed himself up and mailed himself to Konoha? That’s—” she stopped abruptly as she realised this was, in fact, something Sasuke might do. He’d pop out of the box with a deadpan expression, mumbling something about the lack of postal security and how he’d use it to one day destroy the city. “I hate you both,” she grumbled, stomping down the stairs.
In the end, she didn’t go home. Too real was the possibility of Sasuke being inside a package in the post office that she couldn’t, though she hesitated twice at her gate. So they both ended up standing impatiently by collections, wondering what the heck was happening when they were handed a sizable burlap sack.
Naruto shook it once. “Sasuke?” He stage-whispered, giving it a few more experimental jiggles. The insides rustled. After a moment’s consideration he withdrew. “He’s not in here,” he announced.
Sakura looked skeptical. She jabbed at it with her free hand, poking it hard enough to make anything soft in there bruise. “Feels like paper,” she said.
“Maybe it’s package stuffing,” Naruto suggested.
“To what, hide his chopped up body parts?”
The two of them looked at each other. Right there and then, in the middle of the post office and surrounded by dozens of old people trying to collect their pensions, they hastily undid the string tying the top of the sack and tipped the bag over.
Onto the white linoleum poured out dozens, no, hundreds, of letters. Some were in their envelopes, some were just folded in half. Others were sealed, or so crumpled and crushed they were more trash than anything else.
Naruto seized a folded one at random and flipped it open.
My Naruto,
The Land of Frost has skies of glacial blue and thin, wispy clouds that blanket it like a cobwebbed veil. Through the crystalline ice a pale, sickly sun weeps weak yellow onto swathes of endless white. Near-empty rivers snake across the plains, water like glass running swift over rock and stone.
The chill is unlike any winter in Konoha. It reaches inside you to the bone and steals all warmth until you forget you had ever known it. The nights seem to stretch on endlessly. Dawn is no reprieve, for when it arrives it is both awkward and unrepentantly lacklustre. The watery sun heaves itself over the horizon and lays about exhausted and panting. Yet it still expects you to delight in its mediocre arrival.
If you were here, you would melt the deep frost where you stood. The shock of your hair would make the sun too ashamed to face us; the colour of your eyes would make the sky twist with embarrassment.
Heartened by the memory of your warmth,
Uchiha Sasuke
With a trembling hand, he delicately set the letter back onto the pile. Looking back at Sakura he saw that she had gone so white her lips seemed entirely devoid of colour. Her breath shook as she carefully placed the letter she read back amongst the rest.
With one long exhale, Naruto said, “wow.” And promptly fainted.
It felt like no time had passed when he woke up, sprawled out on the post office floor. Two old ladies were fanning him with a pamphlet about fall insurance, while Sakura sat on her haunches and looked visibly distressed.
When she saw his eyes flutter open, she sighed and shook her head. “You’re a drama queen,” she accused.
“Was it real?” He croaked.
She fixed him with an unimpressed look that melted into awkwardness and embarrassment. “Yes.”
“He called me my Naruto,” he said.
“Did he? In the one I read, he signed off with “Ardently yours”.”
Naruto swooned, pressing a hand to his forehead. The old ladies tittered. One offered him a hard toffee. He took it because he didn’t know what else to do.
“I don’t think he meant to send them to me,” he said weakly.
“He definitely did not,” Sakura agreed. Their gazes flicked to the burlap sack sitting innocuously by the main door.
“I shouldn’t read any more,” Naruto whispered. The toffee clacked against his teeth. Opening more of them would be bad for his heart. For his well-being. For the denial he has spent 10 years living in, for the deliberate ignorance he’s made a home in the last decade.
“You know,” she mused. “He might never come back if he knows they’ve been sent to you.”
A ten-ton anvil smashed directly into Naruto’s skull, splattering his brains all over the floor. He choked on the toffee and rolled over to hack it back up into his palm, gasping. The old ladies handed him a tissue, muttering between themselves.
She continued, “you might have to track him down yourself.”
Naruto scrunched the tissue in his hand and looked at her despairingly. “Find an Uchiha that doesn’t want to be found? Again?! AGAIN?!”
Sakura patted him comfortingly. “Maybe the letters hold a clue,” she said. “Are you really going to let him go now? He’s in love with you. As I said he was.”
She might as well have loaded an automatic kunai launcher and sent each blade into Naruto’s soft, fleshy, earthly body. Sasuke, in love with him. For realsies. My Naruto. My Naruto. In love with him. Reciprocation felt like a ball and chain had suddenly been clamped around his ankle. Oh, woe is him.
Old Lady One cleared her throat. “I didn’t go after my love when I was a foolish child. It is my life’s greatest credit.”
The words took a moment to sink in. Naruto stared at her, aghast. “What? Credit? You’re happy you didn’t?”
Old Lady Two sniffed. “He was penniless and a gambler. Every day I’m glad she didn’t take my advice.”
Sakura made an affronted noise, her hands flying to her hips. Naruto sat up in one swift movement, levelling them with a hateful gaze. “Right. Well, mine is hot. And he hates gambling. He has a job. Job-s-uh! Plural! He’s saved the world several times over!”
“Are his jobs stable?” Old Lady One inquired, raising a vicious and immaculately-groomed eyebrow.
“I—” Naruto paused, because he couldn’t describe the sheer instability of bounty hunting and bodyguarding. “No,” he admitted. “But mine will. I’ll be the Hokage. He can stay at home and bake,” he floundered. “Bake pizzas and stuff. I don’t know. Look, this is terrible advice. Give me the sack, Sakura.”
“Terrible advice?” Old Lady Two cried indignantly. “How dare you?”
Old Lady One looked at him down the length of her nose. “I see much regret in your future.”
“Give me the stupid sack Sakura-chan!” His voice cracked shrilly on the last syllable. Luckily, Sakura was just as outraged, because she whacked the sack into Naruto’s hand so hard it almost split the seams. Naruto flung himself to his feet and dusted himself off self-righteously, resisting every urge to show them the finger.
They stomped their way out of the building, huffing and puffing. They were halfway to Naruto’s house when he realised the weight of what he carried so nonchalantly in his hand and had to stop for fear of passing out again.
“See?” He said weakly, hunched over a random electrical box. “He can write letters. He just doesn’t send them.”
“Well, someone did,” said Sakura. She took the bag from him, surveying the sender details—there were none. Only Naruto’s name and the address of Konoha’s main post office was written on it in black marker ink. Several stamps indicated it had arrived from the Land of Birds. “Does it look like Sasuke’s handwriting to you?”
It didn’t, but the address had been written after the sack was filled, so it could be his handwriting but distorted. The notion that Sasuke would ever send these, unless he was indisposed, was absurd.
“Might he be dead?” Naruto asked with mounting horror.
Sakura made a noise that was neither disagreement nor agreement. Naruto collapsed to the floor again, one hand over his heart. “I think I’m dying,” he groaned. “I’ll die and go with him.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Sasuke stooped next to him. “Breathe, you big baby.” She made him put his head between his knees, impatiently taking him through the deep breathing exercises she taught to the Lamaze class on Tuesdays.
Another eight mindfulness techniques later, they finally managed to stagger back to his. The sack was dumped onto the coffee table and Naruto fell back onto his sofa, hands over his eyes.
They sat there in heavy silence. In Naruto’s head, his army of clones gathered to debate the ethics of reading and not reading the rest of the letters. The bigger, badder, more grizzled clone who’d beaten Sasuke into submission and upon whom he’d dumped all his stupid, mushy feelings for him, pounded everyone into a pulp and took the wheels.
He ripped his hands away from his face. “I have to read them,” he said, with great urgency. “They were sent for a reason.”
Sakura slid her hand around the back of his neck and squeezed him gently. “They’re not for my eyes,” she said softly. “But you can tell me what you feel comfortable sharing, okay?”
Naruto made a pathetic, whining noise in the back of his throat like a dying goat.
“You can do it. Be brave.”
“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Naruto whispered.
“What, finding out the love of your life thinks of you as highly as you think of him?” Sakura snorted. “Give me a break. You’re both melodramatic and insufferable.”
Naruto wilted. Sakura softened. “Okay, okay. It’s hard. It is. Hey. You can do it. It’s only Sasuke. Come on, dweeb.” She picked up the sack, untied it, and drew a letter from it at random. This was in an envelope, addressed even, as if Sasuke had tried to work up the courage to post it. The edges of it were ragged and yellowed with age.
“Go for it,” she encouraged, when Naruto took it with a shaking hand. “I’ll see myself out. Don’t worry. Call me if you need anything.”
Naruto barely heard her put on her shoes or leave his apartment, he was too busy staring at the thing in his hands. But when the door clicked and it registered that he was alone, the walls of the building seemed to close in on him.
He sat there, in still, anxious silence, gut roiling, for almost a half-hour before his hand moved to open the sealed envelope and draw out the letter within. It was written on parchment, in a neat, gently sloping hand.
Naruto,
Through the grapevine of village networks, I hear that you’ve been injured. The reports we get out here in the West are greatly exaggerated (in your favour, of course). Still. Do take care of yourself. I didn’t give up the opportunity to kill you for some two-bit thug to steal it from me.
Uchiha Sasuke.
Naruto paused, cocking his head. Injured? It’d been a while since he’d been out on active duty. This letter must be eight, nine years old. He double-checked the address on the envelope and found it was indeed supposed to go to his old place. He’d moved out five years ago.
It was nothing like the flowery, poetic language he’d read in the first one. Perhaps, the letters he intended to send, didn’t send, and that he just chucked in here were all different flavours.
He stuck his hand in and pulled out a crumpled one. This he unfurled with trepidation.
My Polaris,
The northernmost point of the known world lies far further than the cartographers of the Land of Lightning would have you believe. It is uninhabitable, inhospitable land. Yet migratory beasts and flora thrive here in the summer, for then the sun never sets. Constantly are these verdant, green-clad fields bathed in rays of syrup and honey, stretching out as far as the eye can see.
The locals call the phenomenon the Nightless Night. They worship it like a god. But as I looked upon the sun long after it should have rested, unable to sink beneath the horizon and kiss the moon, I was struck by the thought that it must be lonely.
At the end of all things, I wished I was with you.
Forever in my thoughts,
Uchiha Sasuke
The letter crinkled further as Naruto’s hand clenched. His heart felt eight sizes too big for his body, and he just about wished someone would reach in and pull it right out. All these beautiful words, the imagery, the fluid writing of his hand in black fountain pen ink. Naruto could see where he’d paused, lingered, considered his next word without lifting his pen. I wished I was with you.
Gingerly he set the letter down on the side and reached in for a new one.
Naruto,
Enclosed is a handkerchief I embroidered with red-crowned cranes. I spent three days in a national park in the Land of Sound and had the good fortune to encounter a wild flock. According to local custom, they are symbols of luck and longevity. Figured you’d need it more than I do.
Uchiha Sasuke
There was no handkerchief included with this letter, but the envelope had clearly been ripped open. Not only that, it still bore the stamp from the Land of Sound—this had been posted, then abruptly intercepted en route and stolen. Naruto’s eyebrows knitted together.
He reached into the bag and pulled out another enveloped letter, then another. Both were postmarked, stamped, even dated. He fidgeted with one for a moment before he broke the seal.
Dear Naruto,
Everyone knows the Land of Hot Water is famous for their onsens, but few know of one yet untouched by tourism. At the intersection of the Land of Frost and Hot Water lies a grove of pine trees. If you follow the river westwards and make a left before the abandoned shrine, you’ll come across an onsen that once belonged to the shrine’s main patron.
It’s a beautiful place. The onsen is surrounded on all sides by ornamental bamboo, gnarled cherry trees and weathered stone lanterns. The mansion itself is in surprisingly good condition for its long period of neglect, and one of the rooms has a sunken hearth which remains perfectly adequate for overnight stays.
Maybe one day I’ll bring you there. Just the two of us.
Yours,
Uchiha Sasuke
Naruto pictured them naked in an outdoor onsen and blushed so red he had to lay back on the couch. Sasuke may have changed since he saw him last, but he could still picture him clearly in his head. If he really wanted to, and often he did, he spun his mind-Sasuke around in his head like a rotisserie chicken to admire him from all angles.
Tall, though not as tall as Naruto, who’d had the good misfortune of shooting up like a cattail and now had to bend any time he entered a doorway. Broad, but not as broad as Naruto. Sasuke was sinewy and slippery as the snakes he was so fond of, Naruto had somehow evaded the lithe builds of both his parents and ended up much like a brick wall.
His hair, long enough to tickle the backs of his ears. How would he look in an onsen, without the fabric clinging to his chest? Would he tilt his head to expose the curve of his pale neck and prominent collarbones? Naruto’s mouth watered.
He set the letter down and held his head in his hands. A decade of unsaid yearning, of want and regret, of looking himself in the eye and telling himself that his desires, even if returned, could do nothing but weigh Sasuke down were quickly catching up to him. He felt aged beyond his years, or maybe that’s just how turning twenty-six felt.
He wondered if Sasuke thought his own emotions to be naught but baggage on Naruto too. This letter—dated as of four years ago, posted, inscribed with his new address—had somehow never made it to him.
A sudden vision of Sasuke, in a fit of embarrassment, hunting down the postmen and robbing them of their mail assaulted Naruto.
“You dumb shit,” Naruto said emphatically. He sprang up from the couch in a huff, pacing agitatedly around the room.
One more letter. One more letter, then he’d decide what to do. He thrust his hand into the bag, closed around something small and hard, and yanked it out.
In this envelope there was a gift, a perfume bag that though old now still hinted of green tea and orange peels. When he pressed it to his nose and breathed in he could picture Sasuke in the shop, weighing it in his hand. The accompanying letter read:
Naruto, beloved,
As I know you favour summer and citrus scents (and I do appreciate them on you too), this perfume bag from the Land of Tea made me think of you.
Do you remember that you, me, and Sakura, had a mission here? We were protecting some brat or the other, do spare me the details. Still, I remember finding you at the bridge, bloodied, scraped and impaled with poison needles. Fear was something you never let show on your face, no matter how strong your enemies were, but I felt certain that you must have been afraid. We were just kids.
I’m sure I said something cocky, arrogant and far above my abilities. I just wanted to be someone whose presence could reassure you.
Though I’ve betrayed you, your confidence and your forgiveness countless times, I hope my actions have never caused you to fear me. But if they have, all I can do is promise you gentle hands for all the yeas to come.
From the very beginning and past the very end,
your Sasuke.
Naruto placed the letter and gift down on his dining table. Then he walked stiffly across the hall to his bedroom, climbed into bed, and cried.
Dear Sakura,
Once again the air is sweet, the sky is blue, and pink-white petals are floating on jade-green pools. Whenever the cherry blossoms are in full bloom you never leave my mind.
Even then I knew better. Forgive me. I was determined to be cruel in any way I could.
Uchiha Sasuke.
Sakura set down the letter with a grave expression on her face. Naruto watched her anxiously as she toyed with the edges of the letter, pressing the edge underneath a painted-white nail.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Sakura asked, tone carefully neutral, setting the letter on top of a pile that Naruto had discovered was addressed to her. “He’s dead or he’s dying.”
Naruto winced. “He’s not dead,” he protested, albeit weakly. “I’d know if he were dead.”
The day Sasuke died, a shockwave would ripple out around the world. He knew he’d feel the loss of him like a spear through the heart, even if they were hundreds, thousands of miles apart. He’d be bereft, alone, he’d feel the void like another missing limb. He’d have no choice but to follow helplessly.
Sakura blinked at him, then shrugged. “I believe it,” she said. “So if he’s only dying, then where, why, and how is he dying?”
Naruto sighed helplessly. It’s been three agonising, emotional days since he’d received the letters, but to be frank, he hadn’t made very much headway in them at all. What with his pre-Hokage meetings, the kids down at the orphanage, and the numerous grassroots activities he was involved in, by the time he was able to take a moment for himself he was too overwhelmed to start.
At the most he got through four each day before he felt too exhausted to continue, crushed under the weight of their mutual affection. And there were hundreds more to go. Still, there were no mentions of an approaching end or terminal diagnosis or risky mission.
“I don’t know,” Naruto said. He sighed again and dragged a weary hand over his face. Then resignedly, “but I guess I have to go find him.”
A wry smile flitted across Sakura’s face. “Look at you,” she said. “The Search for Sasuke’s thrilling sequel, coming soon to a cineplex near you.”
“It’s awful,” Naruto moaned, rolling round petulantly on his couch. “The audacity to do this to me a second time!”
Naruto hadn’t made this decision lightly. Though there had been times where he had ventured out of Konoha to join Sasuke for small trips here-and-there and coincidental meetings in border towns, he’d never explicitly looked for him, not after those disastrous years.
Sasuke had been pretty good at keeping him up-to-date on his location, thus Naruto had never felt the need to search for him; if Sasuke wanted him he’d come back home.
But missing his birthday, that was new. And these, these deathbed confessions in the form of letters, what was Naruto supposed to think? How else was he to take them, because upon the pain of what else would Sasuke confess to harbouring such sweet and romantic thoughts?
Even if Naruto wanted to reply to them, he didn’t know Sasuke’s address. All he had was the vague recollection that Sasuke had mentioned a small cottage in the Land of Birds a few years prior. Something about getting quite into bird-watching in his ‘old’ age.
Naruto paused mid-pity party to look morosely at Sakura, who was lost in thought and staring at the pile of letters. Her eyes were soft, her mouth gentle. After a moment of reflection, she asked, “will you go by yourself?”
“Oh please, please join me.” Naruto begged.
In spite of herself, Sakura smiled. She reached out and caressed the side of his face. “Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get up to without a voice of reason?” She murmured.
“I’d die,” said Naruto dramatically, pretending to swoon.
But that smile quickly turned to regret. She tucked a stray yellow curl behind his ear. “But one of us has to stay back and make sure things keep running.”
Naruto visibly deflated.
“The orphanage, our Council meetings, the hospital, our outreach, the reconstruction,” slowly, she listed off their responsibilities. “Not to mention covering for your ass. Someone has to stay.” Her hand wavered beside his ear; Naruto reached up to clasp it. Her fingers were pale, the tips ice-cold. “And I find—I find I don’t mind.” Her face creased. “Is that wrong of me?”
“It’s not,” said Naruto as firmly as he could. “Not at all. Someone has to stay, you’re right. Besides, how much trouble can Sasuke really be in? He gives as good as he gets, you know this. I promise I’ll find him in no time and bring him back here. You can give him a good right-hook when you see him.”
She scoffed. “You said that last time. It didn’t work out so well.”
An offended noise escaped him. “Well this time, I’m older, stronger, and have friends in high places. There is nowhere on this stupid planet that he can hide from me.” He said it with so much bravado that he almost believed it himself. “We’re intrinsically connected. I’ll follow our red string and end up at his door.”
Sakura started, an incredulous grin now spreading across her face. She shoved him away, but that smile remained. “You dweeb,” she half-laughed, half-sighed. “I don’t understand how you maintained Sasuke’s disinterest in you for a decade and now turn around and spout babble about red strings.”
“I’ve had a change of heart since reading his letters,” Naruto replied delicately.
“So you admit I was right.”
“When are you not?”
Sakura nodded sagely. Naruto laughed and launched into his plans. “I’ve decided I’ll leave tomorrow. Do you think they’ll notice if I replace myself with a clone?”
“They’ll probably notice my lack of punching you,” Sakura mused. “I’ll have to come up with an excuse for that. But—Naruto, you’ll be a missing-nin if you get caught. That automatically disqualifies you from becoming the Hokage.”
A beat of silence. Naruto stared at her, a fat, ear-splitting grin growing obnoxiously on his face. With far too much pride and confidence he crowed, “Hah! I’d like to see them try!”
Sakura punched his arm.
“Do you think there’d be riots in the streets if they disavow me?”
“When did you become such a cocksure little shit?”
“Saving the world does that to you,” Naruto replied serenely.
Arrangements were quickly made. Sakura supervised as he packed his bag, which proved incredibly vital. Without her pointed remarks and disbelieving reminders he might’ve both forgotten most of the things a trip this long would need and simultaneously overpacked.
Her hand closed firmly around his wrist as he tried to cram into his pack three tins of the biscuits he knew Sasuke rather liked.
“What if,” Naruto said seriously, “he really is dying and for his last meal all he wants are these biscuits?”
Sakura gazed at him in pure wonderment. “Are you stupid?”
With difficulty, they haggled down to one.
Naruto then insisted on bringing all of Sasuke’s letters with him (“For motivation,” he said, caressing the embossed front of one), but had a horrifying premonition that they might end up destroyed.
Therefore, Sakura dragged out his prehistoric printer and coaxed it into functioning by kicking it really hard. For the next two hours they photocopied all of Sasuke’s letters whilst doing their best not to read them prematurely.
At one point, Naruto had to run out to the print shop to get more ink and paper because in total, there were a whopping four hundred and thirty-three letters, excluding the ones which were meant for Sakura. That meant Sasuke wrote, and didn’t send, almost one a week since he’d been gone.
Four hundred and thirty-three letters. Kaguya Almighty, he was going to smite Sasuke when he saw him next.
“You do realise you’re now carrying almost two kilograms worth of paper, right?” Sakura asked, watching him tuck the wad gingerly in his bag.
“Two kilograms worth of Sasuke’s love,” Naruto corrected.
“Your back doesn’t care if it's love or paper. It’s heavy.”
“Kurama’ll handle it.” He waved a hand dismissively.
Inside him, Kurama choked on his growl of disbelief. It sounded like he was hacking up a furball.
The original letters were then carefully filed and given to Sakura to keep securely in her safe, who promised to guard them with her life from moths and booklice and mould and silverfish and snoopers.
“No thief is going to be interested in your sordid and sorry love affair,” Sakura said, rolling her eyes. She watched Naruto’s eyes quiver with tears at the thought of losing the originals and wisely said no more on the matter.
Lastly, they dispatched several hawks to his friends in high places, essentially begging for any and all information of his irritating, always-lost, potentially-dying soulmate. He knew that they were likely sick of his and Sasuke’s never-ending soap opera, but what choice did he have?
Dinner was at Ichiraku’s, where Naruto ate three bowls to memorise the taste and left Ayame quite concerned about his tearful goodbye.
“But where are you going?” Ayame asked, clearly confounded at his blubbering.
“Far away,” sobbed Naruto, the taste of salt already washing from his mouth. “So far away!”
Sakura smacked him on the head. “He’s not going anywhere,” she said, and dragged him home by the ear.
He barely slept that night. The jewel around his neck weighed him down like an anchor, a burden on his chest that bruised his ribs and stole his breath. He thought of Sasuke, alone, somewhere unreachable, and sank deeper into a morbid fantasy. When the dream became unbearable and he’d almost brought himself to tears by writing Sasuke’s eulogy he got up. Digging through his pack, he pulled out another letter.
Naruto,
I was kicked in the gut by a cow today. Broke two ribs. I can tell you honestly I did nothing to provoke such hostility. You would have laughed until you cried.
Sasuke.
The contents startled Naruto out of his melancholy. He stared down at it, a faint smile on his face. By the light of a small lamp, he wrote on the bottom of the printed paper:
Sasuke,
You probably glared at it with that awful scowl on your face and spooked the poor thing. I’ll have you know it’s still funny even now.
It wasn’t always like this. I remember that the neighbours’ dogs loved you, even the street cats always came nuzzling at your heels. You even tamed me!
Take some responsibility please.
Yours,
Naruto.
His handwriting was chicken scratch compared to the elegant lean of Sasuke’s, but when he saw them side by side he loved it more. Paperclipping both letters together, he tucked them into a folder and slid it back into his pack. Then, much lighter than he’d felt in days, he climbed back into bed.
In his dream, he wandered. He crossed ice and rock, clay and sand, he stood upon fog-covered clifftops and slept in dark caverns. When he thought his legs could carry him no further he found Sasuke asleep on his side in a glade, hands tucked beneath his head. Long grasses curled around his sleeping form and from high in the sky came melodious birdsong. When the breeze rustled his hair, it carried the scent of hundreds of wildflowers and raw, turned soil.
Naruto knelt to kiss him then awoke with a start.
Despite her busy schedule for the day, Sakura came to see him off. At dawn they stood at the edge of the crater and watched the sun break over the horizon.
Building a city in the hollow of a deep crater was perhaps not the wisest decision, but it was all they had. Few could bear to leave; though everything was gone the ground was still where they had built their homes. Where would they even go?
Choosing to stay had its consequences. For most of the morning and much of the evening Konoha was shrouded in shadow. The ground was constantly wet and damp. When it rained it flooded miserably. No breeze ever rustled clotheslines or stirred plants.
It didn’t have to be like that forever. At least, that’s what Naruto felt. Eight years later, they proved it.
High above the city, an ingenious set of mirrored panels reflected the light of the sun and moon down into the crater. They changed angles, soared, sunk, matched the curvature of their arc to constantly sparkle like a brilliant disco ball. Naruto always felt it was prettiest at dawn, when the rising sun set it alight in a blaze of oranges and pinks.
Just a few months ago, the ventilation system was completed. The sides of the crater now jutted and dipped with wood constructs and earthen walls that redirected the wind to rocket out over the city. When the breeze was particularly fierce these windcatchers sang like eerie sirens. It hadn’t been long, but Naruto already couldn’t imagine a Konoha without their hums and groans accompanying a gust of fresh air.
Naruto loved his city and he loved his people. What they could achieve when they weren’t developing weapons never failed to astound him.
As the first few panels caught the sun, Sakura turned to him. “Be safe,” she said. Her hair was even pinker in the auburn glow, green eyes like great trees in the late summer. A soft hand cupped his face, thumb brushing gently over his cheek. “Be smart. Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Naruto promised, eyes twinkling. “It won’t be long.” He hugged her, pulling her flush against his body, squeezing as hard as he could because he knew Sakura’s bones were one of the few that could take it. Once they separated he put his fingers together and summoned a clone.
“I’ve got it from here,” the clone drew his back up ramrod straight and saluted.
“Thank you,” Naruto said, lips twitching.
“The next patrol is due any moment,” Sakura reminded. She ruffled his hair once more for good measure. “Bye bye. I love you.”
“I love you too. See you soon,” he returned, smiling. He only looked back once as he turned and took off into the woods.
A part of him could feel Konoha as it receded behind him, the warmth of the city growing fainter as he disappeared into the wilderness. He missed her song and the hum of her people, but soon his attention was pulled away to the forest. From the orchards in the distance the scent of apple and pear sweetened the air, while the trees, drenched in shades of bright gold, red, and orange, carpeted the forest floor as they began to lose their leaves in earnest.
Far quicker than he thought, his regret at leaving started to fade. He hadn’t realised it, too caught up with his post-war responsibilities to reflect on it, but he’d missed being out in the field like this. Some part of him that he’d deeply repressed now revelled in the wind whistling in his ears and the strike of each foot on the ground.
From Konoha, the Land of Birds was a straight shot through Ame. Even a decade after the war, the village had yet to finish (or, even begin) rebuilding. Growth was slow as people shirked the cursed centre for the edges of its vast lake, where they could eke out a living in the fisheries. Naruto had visited many times before, to help set up aid camps, clear out lingering bandit camps and honour the memory of Konan, Nagato, and Yahiko. He hadn’t been back in a while, though, and was interested to see how the area had developed.
Determined to get to the Land of Birds within three days, Naruto ran through the night and the next as well. On the second dawn, he took his first steps out on Ame’s unending, glassy lake. At first sight he was struck by the colour of the water; what was once brown and murky had transformed into that of a deep beautiful blue. As Naruto dashed straight across the water, he was pleasantly surprised to see shoals of fish darting about, bugs skirting the water’s surface, and hear the distant sound of waterfowl and frogs in the marshes.
That night, he made camp in the shelter of a forgotten steel outpost, looking out at the moon reflecting over the water. Mysterious ripples from nighttime animals disturbed the mirror-like surface of the great lake, scattering the thousands of stars that twinkled back at him. He could make no fire tonight for want of wood, so he wrapped himself up tight in his sleeping bag, activated a warming paper-jutsu, and fell asleep to the creak of rusting joints and weary bolts.
In the morning, the rain picked up again. After a meagre breakfast he read another letter.
My dearest,
A magnolia blossom brushed my lips today as it floated down on the breeze. I wished desperately that it was you.
Missing you more than usual today,
Uchiha Sasuke
Hands shaking, he replied:
Dearest Sasuke,
All along, we had the power to turn that wish into reality. There won’t be a day that I don’t kiss you when I finally see you again. Wait for me.
Love,
Naruto.
His face burned as he tucked the paper away. As he fanned himself with his hand he wondered how Sasuke could write such things without embarrassment. For the first time ever in his life he cursed his own inadequate literacy. He should have picked up those old romance novels Sakura was telling him about, since Sasuke wrote like he was a fan.
“He walks in beauty, like the night,” Naruto muttered to himself as he started back out over the water, thick raindrops pelting him like icy shards. “And all that’s best of dark and…no, that’s not it.”
He rocketed past a fishing vessel, skidded a halt and came right back. The old man sitting at the bow regarded him with a crotchety look.
“Shinobi,” he muttered, lip curling. “Whaddya want?”
Then his eyes raked over Naruto’s profile. His eyes took him in, the thick orange jacket, the Konoha headband, his blonde hair and blue eyes. Realisation dawned on him as the sun broke through the early morning rain, turning everything a shade of brilliant gold.
“Good word!” He cried, springing to his feet. “Uzumaki Naruto!”
“Hi,” Naruto waved a cheery hand. “That’s me! It’s nice to meet you! You are?”
“Hitoshi,” said the old man, still stunned. “What’s bringing someone like ya all the way out ‘ere?” He froze suddenly, then turned around to his ice boxes and nets.
“Just wondering if you’ve seen someone pass through here,” Naruto rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly when the old man ignored him. “Um. He’s like, the love of my life, so—”
Hitoshi turned back around, now holding some dried fish wrapped in wax paper. He waved it at Naruto so insistently that he hastily stepped forward to receive it. “Oh! Thank you?”
“For my nephew's life in the War,” Hitoshi informed him solemnly.
Naruto blinked in surprise. “Oh,” he said again, blushing a bright red. “I was happy to help.”
Hitoshi offered him a toothless grin. “Do you know what that means around ‘ere?” He jabbed a finger at his jacket, where above his heart the symbol of the Uzumaki clan was embroidered—his spiral, spinning round and round.
Confused, Naruto shook his head.
“It means hope.” Hitoshi looked at his clan’s symbol with such fondness Naruto flushed darker. “For better days and bigger catches.”
Naruto blustered and almost sank right into the lakewater before he collected himself. “I’m glad,” he said, so sincerely his teeth ached.
Hitoshi nodded again, lost in his musings. He took a moment before snapping back to himself. “Ya said ya needed help?”
“Oh, right!” Naruto pulled out a laminated photo of Sasuke he kept tucked into the front pocket of his jacket. “Have you seen him around before? Tall, moody, pale, not much for conversation.”
The old man put on the pair of reading glasses that were dangling around his neck and squinted. “What’s that, your friend? Oh. Yep, the Uchiha boy comes through ‘ere every month or so. Ain’t seen him in a while, come to think of it.”
Naruto tried not to make it obvious that the lack of news crushed him. “Does he talk to you at all?”
“No, just nodded if he passed by. He did help once to pull up a monster fish.” He spread his arms as wide as they could go; Naruto reacted with suitable awe. Hitoshi finished with, “he’s alright.”
This made him beam. “He is alright,” Naruto agreed fondly. “Glad you think so.”
“He’s usually headed down west. G’luck finding him.”
“I’ll need it,” Naruto said, a touch too darkly.
The two of them regarded each other. “Well,” Hitoshi jabbed his finger at his rods. “Gotta crack on.”
“Right,” Naruto hastily took two steps back. “Thank you again for the fish.”
The old man waved. Naruto tucked the bag into his pocket, zipped it up, then took off again. Though he wouldn’t pass through the grounds of Amegakure proper, he could make out the very edge of the hidden village, where that high steel fence stood a groaning guard. He should probably make a note to check on it, one of these days. For now, as a representative of Konoha and Ambassador to Suna, being in any foreign land without a valid visa was considered an unsanctioned political exercise. He shuddered to think of the far-reaching consequences if caught by a daimyo or Kage in a bad mood.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,” Naruto murmured as he ran over lily pads and hurtled into the beginnings of a mangrove swamp. “No. Even I know that’s overused. The autumn wind is blowing without cease…all the time I think of,” he jumped from a crocodile to another in quick succession. “I think of…what Pass was it again?”
Inside him, once placid Kurama was awakening from his long semi-slumber, a consequence of his chakra working like a furnace. He could feel him start to move around inside him, the great big beast unfurling and stretching. “Quit reciting half-assed poetry, brat,” Kurama snarled, voice still slightly groggy. When he spoke it felt like Naruto had placed his hand on a motor engine, the vibrations shaking his bones. “Strain on your brain is strain on mine.”
“Good morning to you too. Perfect timing, you can help. I’m trying to give Sasuke the dedications he deserves. Odes and sonnets and songs,” Naruto flapped a hand. “You know. Romance.”
“Like either of us know much about it,” Kurama rumbled. A slit-pupiled observed him carefully.
“Have you ever been in love, Kurama?”
A series of muttered curses. “Until recently, I was convinced I was incapable of love.”
“I’ll find you a Tailed Beast girlfriend.”
Kurama shuddered. “Don’t.”
“Buncha baby Kuramas,” Naruto sighed dreamily. “When I die and you get out of this body, promise me you’ll go look for another family of your own, yeah? Don’t just wallow in self-pity. I’ll allow only ten days of grief.”
“How generous,” said Kurama dryly. “And presumptuous.”
“Those are my two defining characteristics,” Naruto agreed chirpily. “Now focus. You are writing letters to your soulmate, and you’ve loved them for longer than you’ve been alive. What kind of poetry should you include?”
Kurama rumbled as he thought it over. “I know one about an oyster.”
“Uh,” said Naruto, as he ducked under a high mangrove root. “Okay?”
“An oyster in his shell / Lives in a boundless sea, / Alone, precarious, limited, / How miserable his thoughts.”
A moment of silence. “What the heck,” muttered Naruto, for some reason incredibly bummed out. “That’s so sad. Don’t you know any happy ones?”
“No.”
They spent the rest of the journey arguing over poetry, which was a lot of bickering to be done by two individuals who knew nothing about poetry. Naruto wrote a few stanzas which Kurama mercilessly picked apart, and by the time they got to the Land of Birds, they both decided perhaps poetry was not for them.
It was long after dark before he arrived at the Land of Birds. Running through the jungle at night had not been his idea of a good time; even traversing it by canopy had proven treacherous. Though Kurama insisted that nothing was following him, he couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched by many pairs of luminescent eyes.
The guard at the gate seemed to be expecting his arrival, because he saluted when Naruto arrived and offered at once to bring him to the daimyo. He was quickly led to a reception room along the walls of the city, which must have only recently been erected.
Fourteen years, give or take, had treated the daimyo kindly. The grey in her hair and smile lines by her eyes made her look wise beyond her years; she had very much settled into her face, her features, and her position.
“Toki-sama.” He bowed deeply, sinking to seiza at the foot of her dais.
“Uzumaki Naruto,” Toki greeted, her face curving into a smile. “My, how you’ve grown. Where’s the little boy who called me nee-chan?”
Naruto smiled ruefully, his gaze directed at the floor. His body thrummed with a want to get up and embrace her, to coo over how much she’d grown after so long, but he kept his knees firmly planted on the floor.
Toki noticed his hesitancy and scoffed. “My little hero regards me with cold manners and propriety. I won’t have it.” She rose from her throne, candle flames shaking in the breeze of her multi-layered kimono. Naruto heard her socked feet pad across the floor, then the daimyo herself knelt before him and took both of his hands in hers. “Naruto-kun,” she said, voice soft and tender. “Raise your head.”
He did. Years of leadership and war had failed to strip the kindness from her eyes, the gentle way her mouth curved. Just as beautiful, if not more so, up close.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said sincerely, brown eyes molten in the orange glow. “You’ve come so far.”
“Nee-chan,” his years of etiquette lessons bent beneath the weight of his fondness. He never was very good at them anyway. “So have you.”
Toki laughed, high and tittering in the rafters of the fort. From behind the throne, a little boy peeked out, round eyes staring at Naruto in awe.
The two of them regarded each other for a moment, then Naruto turned accusingly to Toki. “Nee-chan, you’ve been busy.”
Toki’s laughter peeled off a little hysterically. “My son,” she introduced.
The boy blinked round doe eyes down at him. “I’m Sagi. I’m nine.”
“I’m Naruto,” said Naruto. “I’m twenty-six.”
Sagi nodded. “I know,” he said simply. Then he disappeared behind the throne again.
Toki watched him go, shaking her head fondly. “I married Chishima twelve years ago,” she said. “And Sagi, he’s our little post-war miracle. We tried to invite you to the wedding, but Konohagakure informed me that you were training in seclusion and could not be reached.”
“I would’ve very much liked to be there. Chishima is a lucky man.”
She smiled bashfully. Then she rose, crossed to a nearby table and beckoned him. Sagi crept out, running to hide behind his mother’s skirts. “It’s late, so I won’t keep you. I know your time is short. I have received your letter and yes, Uchiha Sasuke does keep a residence here.”
Naruto’s heart leapt into his throat. The room spun this way and that. Kurama did the mental equivalent of smacking him.
Toki pointed to a spot on a large map spread out on the table. It was a small dot, mid-way up a hill to the north of the village proper. “Though at first an infrequent visitor, he asked for permission to settle two years ago. I saw nothing but a polite and grief-stricken young man.” Here she paused to look at Naruto meaningfully. “Your affection and regard for him, despite his reputation, is widely known. He reminded me much of myself in those terrible months following my brother’s passing. I agreed to let him a cottage; in return he promised protection.”
Naruto flushed a dull, awkward red. “And, uh, what is your opinion of him now that you know him better?”
A knowing smile. “He has proven himself to be of good stock and better character. My people and I think highly of him.”
Oh thank the stars. Naruto heaved out a small sigh of relief, sagging limply against the table. “Cool,” he said. “Cool. Cool. Um. He did send me some urgent letters. Is there anyone I can talk to about that?”
Toki cocked her head. “Ayana runs the post office. You may ask her tomorrow morning. Which brings me to my main point: in truth, Sasuke was here just a few days ago.”
He jerked so violently he hit his knee hard on a corner. Holding back tears he croaked, “what?”
“He stopped by his house for a brief moment. The border guards report seeing him enter and leave within the span of a few hours.”
Stopped by his house? To what, grab supplies? Change? Naruto’s eyebrows furrowed in consternation. “Could I see his house?”
“Right now?”
Naruto shrugged helplessly. “Maybe I’ll be able to step into his head if I walk around his place a little.”
Toki smiled knowingly. “I think you already have a clearer grasp on how Sasuke thinks than most, but who am I to stand in the way of young love?”
Naruto wheezed, brain immediately stuttering to a halt. She laughed again and beckoned for a guard.
“He will take you to Sasuke’s home. I imagine you’ll spend the night there?” She looked at him coyly.
Shame coated Naruto’s features. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes.”
“Well then. As long as you come to lunch tomorrow with me and my family, I’ll authorise it.”
“Toki-sama,” said Naruto, very seriously. “It would always be my honour.”
“Hah!” She pinched his cheek. “Good answer. I bid you good night then. May you find the answers you seek.”
The guard led him outside the walls and through the empty village streets. Even at night he could tell that it had grown, with more colourful houses and buildings than ever before. But it was still the same paradise he remembered; the air was still alive even at this hour with the distant call of wild birds and the buzzing of insects.
Uniquely situated and surrounded by mountainous hills, the constant monsoons from Ame and the arid heat from the Land of Wind made this area hot and humid year round. Sweat had already made his jacket stick uncomfortably to his back.
They walked for a quarter of an hour before they arrived at Sasuke’s cottage. The building itself was modest: a square building with a rocky facade and an orange-tiled roof, slatted windows and faded yellow paint. The guard unlocked the front door gate, pressed the key into his hand, and left quickly.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Naruto mumbled to no one as he toed off his sandals and unlocked the main door. The house was shrouded in darkness, but with his flashlight he was able to find the oil lamps hanging on the walls.
Framed now in warm shades of orange, the house brightened into something almost comforting. It was small and bare, but well-kept.
The floor was tiled with brown terracotta, a patch of blue at each of the corners forming a small diamond pattern. To the left, hidden behind a folding screen decorated with inky-splotches of dark bird, was a sleeping area, complete with a wooden bedframe and a small side-table. Naruto’s heart lurched into his throat when he spotted two framed pictures—one of Team 7 as kids, the other as adults—sitting atop it.
The mattress and accompanying effects were covered by a thin, floral-patterned cloth to protect it from dust. Next to it, a short, thin sofa was also wrapped in a similar cloth.
In the middle of the room was a wooden table and two chairs; on the back of one hung a black cloak. A small plastic door led to a narrow bathroom on the right.
The farthest wall was lined with white cabinets, a gas stove with two burners and a metal sink. Above it was a small window framed by two red curtains, this opened up into a courtyard whose grasses had been allowed to grow wildly in the owner’s absence.
He opened a cabinet on a whim and found a small stack of ceramic crockery and two sets of cutlery. The Sasuke he kept in the back of his mind nodded proudly at his bare-bones house.
“Everything has a use,” said mind-Sasuke smugly.
“I have a frog that plays the Mighty Morphin’ Power Ninjas theme song when you press it.”
Mind-Sasuke frowned, bewildered.
He trailed his fingers along the table top, envisioning Sasuke doing the same. Sasuke standing in front of the sink, up to his elbows in soapy water. Sasuke curled up like a ball in the bed. Sasuke sitting at his table, flipping through old newspapers. Writing his letters.
All these moments of Sasuke’s life, left only to his imagination. In the late night and exhausted from his mad sprint this phantom stretched out his hand and trailed it across his cheek. He said, “usuratonkachi, you push yourself too hard,” and cupped his jaw. He kissed his cheek and whispered, “come to bed.”
Naruto followed him, crossing a kitchen that seemed to stretch on forever and ever, the bedroom always just out of reach. When Sasuke finally laid a hand on the bedpost, sunlight spilled into the room from a crack in the curtains. The light illuminated Sasuke’s palm and a resigned smile crept onto his face.
Naruto awoke with a world-ending crick in his neck. Whereffcuck? He groaned, forcing himself into awareness to find himself face-down at the dining table, Sasuke’s black cloak draped around himself.
Dear gods, this had to be a new low for him.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” Naruto grumbled into the wood.
Kurama did a visible double-take. “Excuse me?” He snarled, but Naruto had already moved on.
He turned his head to the side, watching the dust float lazily through the air. He indulged himself in another daydream; this one of Sasuke making tea in the kitchen, his spoon clinking against the mug, until a rooster crowed and interrupted the fantasy.
Righting himself and working out the stiffness in his neck, Naruto dragged himself into the bathroom. Above the pink porcelain sink hung a small looking-glass, big enough only for a shave. Naruto coolly regarded himself in it. Despite his poor sleep, his eyes were sparkling from the past few days’ exertion and his face practically glowed from his chakra’s cellular regeneration. For the first time ever his bright visage almost blinded him; he longed to be looking at a pretty face with hair like spilled ink and eyes so dark you fell into them.
Once he was more or less presentable, he went back around the house and took stock of the situation. In the warm light of morning the house was suddenly cheerful and much less lonely. Above the bed was a window with a suncatcher that scattered the light, casting flecks of rainbow out over the entire cottage.
It was a surprisingly cute addition to the room. The spots danced around while he opened the cabinets, searching for a pan or some form of cooking utensil. Maybe he could accost the coop that the rooster guarded for eggs and have a proper meal for once.
It was then he noticed he was stepping on something soft. He removed his foot, squinting at it—and froze. A letter. A white letter, crisp and clean, neatly folded and packed away. How had he not seen it last night?
He bent to pick it up, blood roaring in his ears.
The letter was written in Sasuke’s hand and addressed to him. Hands shaking, he turned it over and broke the wax seal.
Naruto,
Happy birthday. My sincerest apologies that I am unable to make it to Konoha in time for the celebration this year. If you’re receiving this letter, there is no cause for alarm. It is more likely that my journey back from the southern islands has been delayed by inclement weather. The tides are extremely unpredictable at this time of year.
The post office of the Land of Birds has kindly agreed to ensure this letter will be posted to you if I am not home before October. Still, I shall hurry to see you. Expect me by December at the very latest.
Enjoy your birthday. I will be thinking of you.
Best,
Uchiha Sasuke.
His knees buckled, sending him to the floor with a thump.
Neither dead nor dying, but a secret third thing: Sasuke was hiding.
Hiding! From him! Because of the letters he wasn’t supposed to have gotten! Naruto’s heart ached a little in sympathy for him; he couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for someone as private as Sasuke, even to his closest friends, to be so suddenly and violently exposed.
All the little bits of his soul, the softness of his heart, laid bare on cream stationery and black ink. Naruto folded the letter back up, chewing on his bottom lip. He couldn’t bear to fault Sasuke for running when he too had spent the past decade hiding from his feelings.
But heck if he wasn’t frustrated too. All this running! Always this running! He had to know that Naruto would chase him to the ends of the earth. He had to know he’d do it all over again—every single day of painful loneliness and desperation—just to have him in his life.
And if he didn't know…Naruto had to prove it somehow. The only way he knew how.
Hunt him down and kiss him.
He nodded slowly, satisfied. Hunt him down and kiss him.
Never mind that he didn’t know how to kiss. He figured it’d come naturally, like blinking and breathing. Did Sasuke know how to kiss? A part of Naruto hoped so, because the idea of Sasuke guiding him through the movements made his head spin. The other part of him howled pathetically at the thought of losing Sasuke’s limited supply of kisses to some no-good random.
As for what he could do right now…Naruto looked at the cottage, where his traipsing through the night had cut swathes through the dust on the floor. He bet no one had ever cleaned up Sasuke’s house for him unbidden, unasked, and unprompted, haven’t they?
Well Naruto will. So there’s that. One point for him, zero for the mysterious and hopefully fictional stranger he’s competing with. Together with his clones, he dusted and swept, cleaned the gutters, took the curtains outside to beat. They even attacked the fallen leaves outside with a palm-leaf broom, and trimmed the overgrown plants.
Naruto was proud to say the place had never looked better. He thought. He wouldn’t know, but he assumed. He stole some of the body soap Sasuke left for a shower, then stole more of it to bring with him and sniff on particularly lonely nights.
Kurama almost wept on seeing him pack it away. Naruto deliberately ignored him.
By the time he was ready to head back to the village, the sun was high in the sky, the musty, humid air filled with bird song and the scream of insects. The jungle was as unapproachable in the day as it had been at night; Naruto spared a glance into the dense underbrush and heard something turn tail and bolt.
Not for the first time, he wondered why here. Why, of all places, did Sasuke choose the Land of Birds to settle? Did the constant hum of the birds and the skittering in the unknowable jungle bring him a sort of peace?
The sun beat down on him, burning hot on his skin. Naruto glanced up at the fearless yellow dot, taking a moment to relax in its glow. Maybe it was the sun, Naruto mused. Sasuke was quite cat-like in that regard. But how did he stay so pale?
Continuing down the path, he passed a long dirt driveway. At the end of it was a house similar to Sasuke’s; in front of its open door sat an old woman with nut-brown skin. Noticing Naruto, she stopped fanning herself and hastened to her feet.
“Uzumaki Naruto!” She called urgently, as if afraid he’d hurry away. Her sand-coloured woven slippers smacked the dirt floor with each step.
“Hi!” He yelled back, giving her a big wave.
The lady wore a loose orange-and-red patterned dress, cut rectangularly and without shape, and her grey hair was coiled into a thick bun at the base of her head. She caught up with him and he offered her his arm, which she took with a laugh and a smack of his bicep.
They made banal small talk about the weather, the heat. She informed him that she was Sasuke’s closest neighbour, and they often chatted on the way to-and-fro the market.
“That boy talks a lot about you.”
Naruto stubbed his toe on smooth ground and yelped. The old woman tutted.
“I’m alright,” he lied, trying to walk it off. “What, uh, what does he say?”
“What you’re doing, your adventures together, anything he wants.”
“People say Sasuke’s not much of a talker,” Naruto began.
“He isn’t,” she laughed loudly. “The only time he really talks is about you.”
Naruto blushed the same colour as her dress.
“It’s good to finally meet Sasuke’s friend,” she continued. “I see he never exaggerated when speaking of you. Just as handsome as he said! And so polite.”
Sasuke’s friend. Naruto felt a smug satisfaction wash over him. Damned right. It was a unique experience to be referred to in relation to Sasuke, to finally have someone’s opinion of himself formed not by his deeds but through the lens of Sasuke’s words.
He wondered at once how Sasuke might have described him. His letters came to mind; eyes of audacious blue, hair bright like sunshine. Sasuke had compared him to the sky, to daffodils and buttercups, to gems, kingfishers, and robin eggs; Naruto hadn’t realised there were so many yellow and blue things in the world.
Did he call him strong, did he call him good or gallant or handsome? Or stubborn and petty and selfish?
“Does Sasuke have friends here?” Naruto asked.
“Loads,” she said, waving her free hand dismissively. “He has never out-drank my husband but he tried really hard once. They play cards and chess. The young ‘uns beg him to teach them shinobi stuff, but they only use it to sneak off with fruit from the orchards.”
The relief Naruto felt upon hearing this was so palpable that he struggled to keep himself upright. “That’s good,” he said, trying not to wheeze. “That’s very good.”
She blinked at him owlishly. “I told him he should bring his wife here one day.”
This time, Naruto stumbled and almost took the lady down with him. “And what did he say to that?” He managed shakily, having caught himself with sheer instinct.
“He said he’d bring you.”
He stumbled again. The lady helped him to the fragile shade of a trumpet tree, where he had to take a break to recover from the emotional turmoil of the day.
The other villagers were happy to see him when he finally made it to town. Most inquired after Sasuke, others asked him how he’d been. As they walked together three children leapt for him without warning. He caught them around his biceps, where they dangled, giggling and laughing as if they’d done it a million times before.
Naruto raised one arm up to eye level and peered at two of the kids. “Is this a common thing you do?” He asked, amused. The kids swung their feet, grinning.
“Sasuke onii-chan always catches us,” said the pig-tailed girl smugly.
“He said you’d catch us too! And you did!” A boy with a gap-tooth grinned at him.
“Naruto onii-chan’s also strong,” the girl on his left said shyly.
“Stronger than Sasuke,” retorted Naruto on instinct. The three kids exchanged looks, and that’s how Naruto’s big fat mouth had him carrying ten children into the centre like a weird, parasitised zombie.
They scampered off him when he neared the post office, located on the left of the village square, behind a smithy and a diner already populated with old people reading the newspaper. The door jingled when Naruto pushed it open to reveal a cramped, cluttered reception area.
Everything lay in shambles, as if a great wind had swept through it. What little Naruto could make of the desk was covered in a mess of letters, unclaimed packages, and oddly-shaped boxes. All available space not occupied by paper was filled with little ceramic knicknacks. A poorly-painted blond figurine with a smudge of orange across its chest caught his eye. Was it egoistical of him to assume it was meant to be his likeness? “Be right there!” Came a young female voice from somewhere behind the towering stacks.
Naruto gingerly cleared a space between the papers and perched himself on a green plastic chair. One of the parcels caught Naruto’s eye—it was very clearly marked LAND OF SOUND.
“Hey,” a woman who couldn’t be much older than drinking age stuck her head out from behind a rickety bookshelf. “Just a few more—” she looked down, spotted Naruto, and went so white it was almost comical.
Whirling around in a panic, she smacked her nose into the opposite shelf. Groaning, she rubbed at her face and stepped back into an unsteady stack of boxes. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The tower groaned, wobbled, and tipped over, taking out the pile behind it, and the pile behind it, and the pile—
Someone screamed. A plume of dust erupted from the office, shooting out of the open door and windows.
Naruto sneezed.
“Bless you,” said a chorus of Narutos.
The young lady blinked, having survived death by undelivered mail in Naruto’s arms, his army of clones all holding up various furniture and surviving stacks of boxes. A bookshelf weighed heavily down on his back, pressing him towards her. This close, Naruto could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes, smell the fruity tang of her perfume.
Weakly, she said, “hi.”
“Hi,” said Naruto cheerfully. He pushed the bookshelf leaning on his back up with a grunt and helped her to her feet. “Are you Ayana?”
She sighed deeply. “Yeah,” she mumbled, sounding like she’d rather kick rocks than be here.
“I’ve got a question.”
“I know.” She dragged a weary hand over her face and through her dark hair. “Sit, sit. Just sit.”
Naruto checked Ayana over just to make sure nothing had hit her on the head, then righted his green plastic chair and sat obediently in it.
His clones spread out around the office, stacking things a little more safely. One of them started grouping the undelivered mail by region.
Ayana sat in the wobbly office chair opposite and spun around three times before she composed herself enough to speak. “It was a mistake,” she began, so solemnly it was like she was reciting her own eulogy.
Naruto held up a hand. “All forgiven. Seriously. Not a problem.”
“Not a—” Ayana gaped at him. “Not a problem?! Sasuke stood outside my bedroom window at four in the morning, shrieking—”
“Shrieking?” Naruto leaned forward. “Really?”
“Well no.” she flapped her hand, now embarrassed. “But speaking, you know. Twice as fast as usual. And a little shrill.”
“Hmm.” Naruto wished he could raid her mind for the memory of a flustered Sasuke.
She eyed him suspiciously, as though sensing his nefarious thoughts. “Anyway. He asked me to help mail something if he didn’t come back to the village before October, and the only thing I saw in the house was a giant bag of unsent letters,” she gestured at Naruto. “You know. Meant to be sent to you. What else was I supposed to do?”
“I mean, there’s no way Sasuke paid you enough for such a large shipment,” one of Naruto’s clones reasoned. The rest nodded in agreement like a bunch of blonde chickens.
“Well he didn’t,” Ayana sulked. “But Sasuke’s always been good to me, so I thought I’d do him this one service.”
“A great service to me.”
“Not to Sasuke?”
Naruto made a non-committal ehhhhh sound. “Where, uh, where did he go after he woke you?”
“He ran away so fast I thought he’d start flying. It was dark and the moon was behind a cloud, so I didn’t see where exactly. Just off into the jungle like a maniac.”
Yeah, that checks out. One of Naruto’s clones sighed so violently he puffed out of existence. A letter floated to the ground.
“Was…was what the sack contained so bad?” Ayana asked, fear creeping into her voice. “Did I spill national secrets? Am I wanted by the Konohagakure secret police?”
“No such thing,” Naruto said firmly. “They were good letters, just embarrassing letters. I—” he paused. “I’m very glad you sent them to me. Thank you. Really.”
Ayana sank further down into her chair. “Really?”
“Really. You’re—” Naruto barrelled straight on, “you are invited to our wedding.”
One of Ayana’s legs slid out from under her and she crashed to the floor in a heap of long limbs. The clones grabbed onto the stacks to stop them from falling over again. “Wedding?” She burst out, eyes wide and round. A pause, then, “when?”
“When I find the punk,” Naruto replied darkly.
Ayana nodded slowly, clearly sceptical as she slowly got to her feet.
“Hopefully before I’m thirty,” Naruto added. He fished a small notepad out of his toolbelt and scribbled down Sakura’s address. “If Sasuke comes back, please do send an express here right away.”
She nodded again, taking the paper with a shaking hand, still muttering wedding under her breath. Whilst he pondered this information Naruto scribbled a quick note to Sakura.
Sakura,
Sasuke is not in any danger. He knows the letters were sent and is AVOIDING US ON PURPOSE. I KNOWWWWWW I KNOW!!!!
WHY IS HE LIKE THIS!!!
Love,
Naruto
P.S. Be the maid of honour at our wedding thanks
P.P.S. Send copies of good romantic confessions
“I should’ve known this would happen,” Ayana told him after they’d settled the postage, lip curling. “Sasuke has a habit of posting things then regretting it.”
Naruto’s head shot up so fast he almost sprained his neck. “I’ve been wondering about that. Some of the letters I got had been postmarked and everything. Does he really—”
“Hunt the postmen down and steal their letters?” Ayana looked aged beyond her years, the poor girl. “Yeah.”
“Wow,” said Naruto and all his clones.
“It’s okay. It was a bit of a pain at the start, but everyone kinda knows about it now. When they see him they just give him back whatever letter he wants.”
“Wow,” said Naruto and all his clones, again.
Ayana shrugged. “He’s a decent guy, but man is he weird.”
“You don’t say,” Naruto agreed faintly.
Just before he left, Naruto insisted Ayana take more money for the delivery of the sack. As expected, she refused, so Naruto balled up the notes and threw them into the air whilst staring her right in the eyes.
“You’re weird too,” Ayana muttered, watching the bills float to the floor. “I mean. Thanks.”
“And these guys are staying,” Naruto pointed to Clones 7, 11 and 14. “They like cleaning.”
“Sure thing,” said Ayana. “Though it’s kinda freaky how you can do that. Can all shinobis do that? Can Sasuke do that? Will I post the wrong thing again and wake up to fifteen Sasukes outside my door?”
Naruto made a face that was neither a no nor a yes. Ayana shuddered violently and waved him away.
Outside, it’d somehow gotten hotter. Naruto surveyed the jungle yet again and spotted a green beetle clambering up a stick.
Kurama rumbled like a train passing by. “How did we get on the subject of weddings?”
“We’re getting married.”
“You haven’t started dating him yet.”
“We’re getting married.”
The green beetle fell off the stick and into a thicket of leaves.
Kurama stared at him for a heart beat or two. “Okay,” he said, turning twice before settling down. “I do love a spring ceremony.”
Naruto scoffed. “This time of year is perfect,” he protested. “All the falling leaves and golden sunsets. Can’t you picture Sasuke at dusk, surrounded by, by, by, cosmos and asters? A dark silhouette in his suit against the sky—”
“—Please stop.”
Naruto’s mouth clicked shut, but as he walked to lunch he could not shake the image from his mind, of Sasuke on the edge of Konoha in his wedding attire, turning to look at Naruto with that small, enigmatic smile on his face.
He thought about it all through the meal, which was an extravagant affair. He gorged himself on local delicacies: maize flatbread stuffed with cheese, hearty chicken soup with potatoes and corn, fried whole fish, sausage, barbecued pork, fresh fruit, salad and mountains of dessert.
Over their meal he and Toki made some informal promises to support the development of each other’s villages. When they weren’t talking business he ribbed Chishima for finally getting the girl and indulged the shy Sagi with a dramatic retelling of how he saved his mother.
Every time he stopped to breathe he heard Sasuke’s voice in his ear, saw him picking daintily at his food. He saw himself heaping piles onto Sasuke’s plate and begging him to eat more. He saw himself feeding Sasuke from his chopsticks.
At the table, he fidgeted uncomfortably, turning a merry red. If anyone noticed, they were too polite to say it. Even in this fitful state lunch flew by, until he was at least back again at the main gate of the village.
Toki had followed him, and she stood regal and proud beneath the torii gate, robes flapping in a dense, heavy wind. “He’ll be okay,” she comforted. “I’ll write if there are any developments on our end.”
Naruto nodded, fighting back a wry smile. He felt he ought to tell her that she could kill all sympathy for Sasuke, that this was self-imposed exile not life-or-death, but couldn’t bring himself to. “Thank you. Sasuke has made a home here. It’s perfect.”
“To gain your approval in matters of his is the highest compliment,” she replied with a smile. “Our Birdmaster has told me that Sasuke was last spotted further west, in the Land of Sand. The Kazekage and you are known to be good friends. I hope he has more news of Sasuke than I do.”
“Thank you,” said Naruto, again, because he didn’t know how else to describe his gratitude. She kissed him on the cheek and he turned pink. Just as the sun dipped into early evening, he set back out into the dense jungle.
By all accounts he ought to have stayed another night, but he was too anxious to go. Quite frankly, the thought of sleeping in Sasuke’s empty house threatened to send him into fits. There was also the matter of Sasuke’s cleverness. If he was determined not to be found, and Naruto knew he was, even a bird would not be able to catch sight of him. Ergo, what they saw was likely just a clone, or a mirage.
Perhaps a more intelligent, strategic man would carefully weigh his options and send out shadow clones to each corner of the world before he took another step. But Naruto wasn’t much of a thinker, and well, Sasuke was predictable.
All he had to do was think: where was it that Sasuke hated the most? And from Naruto’s encyclopaedic, and frighteningly eidetic memory of Sasuke, came a whispered word. In a flash he hauled himself up a drooping palm and turned his head towards the north, where he half-expected to see the frozen caps of alpine mountains peek out over the edges of the horizon.
But there was still a way to go yet, and the view was dominated only by gentle sloping hills of green foliage and mist.
Although he hadn’t intended on setting out on such a journey of epic proportions, Naruto took it in stride. Armed with nothing but his backpack and his senjutsu, which he used as liberally as a sniffing dog, he set off through the wilderness of five different Lands.
And he had to say, he had a very pleasant time. He’d only visited these Lands once or twice before, and that was during war-time or for work, so he could hardly say it counted. Wherever he went the people were friendly and welcoming, and not just because he was the Saviour of the Entire Known World, or however people wanted to style him nowadays. His titles changed every year, in every city.
Most of the time, he was able to sleep under a roof thanks to the kindness of strangers. He dined with farmers and wives, nomadic tribes and in towns, he broke bread with the poor and played with their children.
When he could he followed them about their day, though as winter rapidly encroached and the morning frost grew ever thicker, there was less and less to do about the fields. In exchange he gave gifts freely and recklessly, throwing money at village storehouses and artisan shops as if he could single-handedly become the person their entire economy thrived on.
Naruto made good money as an Ambassador, he’d make better as a Hokage, and he had no family to spend it on besides Team 7 and the orphanage. Why shouldn’t he spend lavishly once in a while?
It was at one of these shops in yet another nameless town, purchasing an armload of local sugar candy to bring back for the kids that he stumbled and almost dropped the delicate lollies—his clone had been defeated by a lone toy car strewn across the orphanage floor.
A classic Naruto move. He couldn’t even be angry, just smiled ruefully as images of Sakura, and the home he missed, flooded his mind. His clone had even dutifully kept up with the reruns of Love in a Time of Ninjas that Naruto had been watching; he found it extremely disconcerting as feelings that weren’t entirely his for a character he’d never known suddenly welled up inside him.
Naruto paid for his purchases, took the bag and stepped outside to summon a few more shadow clones. They were a bit far from Konoha, but you never knew. Maybe one of them would somehow reach the gates.
“This one will never make it back,” said one of his clones while shoving the second. “Look at his face. He’s got a stupid face.”
The second clone yanked his hair. “What the heck! We’ve all got the same face, turd-face.”
They did not make it more than six feet before tripping on a rock and braining themselves. Naruto summoned an additional five and prayed they wouldn’t wreck too much havoc on their surroundings.
He waited a few days in the village, scanning the sky for any emergency missive that Sakura might send, but nothing came. So instead, he went skinny-dipping in a moonlit pool and the next day hitched a ride on a giant salmon across a yawning delta. It did not go as smoothly as he hoped, and he ended up with water all up his nose, but hey. It’d been fun.
Slowly, he made his way to town just before the Land of Frost truly began. It was a dreary place, blanketed on one half with snow and frost, the other muddy and soggy from the run-off. No one really stopped here unless they were en route to ski resorts or hiking paths, and since it was too early for the former but too late for the latter, Naruto found it quite deserted.
The only place open was the town’s tavern, a beerhall with a charming traditional facade and checkered curtains. On the inside, it was surprisingly bright and cheery, with big yellow lamps, light-stained wooden panelling, long benches, and the stuffed head of a mountain goat that glowered down at the patrons from above the bar.
Naruto eyed the head warily as he nursed a stein of beer. He didn’t care for its ominous countenance—it seemed frightfully angry to have been stuffed—and couldn’t bring himself to relax. There weren’t any other patrons in the beerhall, and his only other company was the barman and his dog.
According to his nametag, the barman’s name was Florian. His mousy brown hair, much like his eyes, fell in a curly mop atop his head. Suitably for the weather he was stockily built, with wide shoulders, thick arms and large hands. Naruto studied him from his barstool, watching as he aimlessly wiped down the counter for the third time that night.
“Florian, is it?” Naruto asked, flashing him a smile.
Florian jumped and swore, but gave him a grin in return. “I’ll be damned. Uzumaki Naruto knows my name.”
Naruto laughed, shaking his head. “Even all the way out here?”
“I don’t think there’s anywhere that wouldn’t know you on sight,” Florian replied sincerely. “it’s not a great time to be in this town, though. Weather’s shit this time of year.”
“Well, why are you here?” Naruto countered.
“Saving up enough money to go skiing.”
“Is that expensive?”
Florian whistled. “Buddy, you have no idea.” Leaning over the counter, he whispered a number into Naruto’s ear. “And that’s just the season pass.”
Naruto blanched. “Wow. I’m glad I don’t ski.”
“Awh, it’s not so bad,” Florian shrugged. His accent was lilting and awfully pleasant to hear, stealing Naruto’s thoughts away from the stuffed deer that seemed to be angrier now that he was having a good time. “Besides, I know the old man who runs this place, so not only does he pay me, he lets me stay upstairs for free.” In a stage-whisper, he added, “no one else wants to work here during this time. You can see why.”
The dog, a brown-spotted pointer wearing little booties, sniffed hesitantly at Naruto, looking at him through round eyes. He allowed Naruto to scratch his chin once, twice—the name on his collar read Balu—but eventually decided the deer was less terrifying than Kurama, and scampered off to lie directly beneath it, in front of the fire.
At some point (and three steins deep into the beer), Florian invited Naruto to join him on the veranda for a smoke.
Night fell fast this far north. A shimmering blanket of cold stars had fallen upon the dark sky, clearer and crisper than they had been in the west. The tavern itself faced an empty lot, which during its peak would be filled with comings and goings, carriages and horses, but for now was just a weak, wet shade of brown. There was a miserable chill without beauty to the air that compounded Naruto’s sudden onset of loneliness and festered something sad within.
In short, this place was already making Naruto feel depressed. It was perfect for Sasuke’s angsty brooding.
Florian lit up a menthol and offered one to Naruto, who declined. “You never said, really. What brings a man like you all the way out here?” He asked, leaning against the wooden rail of the small smoking area. He pinched his cigarette with his index and middle finger so elegantly Naruto couldn’t help but admire it.
Naruto smiled shyly. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Anyone?” Florian inquired, a flash of mirth in his eyes.
Naruto blinked, mouth opening. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t actually stupid. Or rather, he had his stupidity brutally beaten out of him by the tribulations of life (and Sakura’s exasperation).
Florian was slightly older than him and certainly a looker. There was a satisfying angle to his jaw, and his hazel eyes were particularly bright and spirited, even in such a miserable place as this. Knowing Florian was handsome and desiring him were two very different things; Naruto simply couldn’t bring himself to be moved.
“Actually, I’m in love with him,” a small smile, in spite of his dour mood, flitted across his lips.
To his credit, Florian took it in stride. It wasn’t affront, but good-natured curiosity, that coloured his voice as he immediately replied, “where did he go?”
“He ran away.”
“He left you?!”
Naruto laughed again. “No,” he said. “A letter was sent to me by mistake, and I discovered that he loved me before he was ready to tell me.”
Florian considered this. “So it’s mutual, but he still—” he made a wooshing gesture with his hands.
“Well, he ran away before I could give him my response.” In a helpless little voice he added, “he’s speedy.”
Florian snorted and took another drag of his cigarette, saying, “tell me more about this lover.”
He couldn’t have asked someone more eager to talk. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Naruto launched into a recount of his and Sasuke’s love story so long-winded and descriptive he wished he could blame it on the alcohol. At the end of his spiel, Florian lit a third cigarette, tilted his head, and blew out a succession of smoke rings.
Then he remarked mildly, “holy shit.”
Naruto cracked a smile. “Any advice?”
“Where to begin?” He replied amusedly, shaking his head. “It’s a dramatic tale. But even a boy wonder like yourself is going to die one day. Ten years is a lot of time to not spend it kissing someone you love.”
“Would kissing him during these ten years have been the right thing for him?” Naruto countered. His hand had found his pendant, and he pushed it between his fingers. The metal was freezing cold. “Sasuke’s a flying bird. A wandering spirit. A balloon, y’know, on the, the rising wind. And I’m tied right down to the earth.”
Florian pursed his lips. “Being grounded to a place isn’t such a terrible thing. Is to be loved by you really such a chore?”
Naruto considered this for a while. The stories Jiraiya had written about romance described love as such a fleeting, fragile thing, like the gentlest brush of butterfly wings. Naruto loved like a two-ton anvil. Heavy and dense, solid and unchanging; his love was an iron ball he threw at people hard enough to crack them open.
“I guess so,” Naruto said, voice small.
Florian mulled this over for a while. His cigarette had long since burned down to the filter. “Love is heavy, yes. Sometimes it's burdensome. But it’s always easier to carry someone else’s. Tell me—could Sasuke’s love be too much for you to bear?”
Since Sasuke’s hatred had weighed nothing at all, Naruto could imagine the ease with which he’d carry his love. “I doubt it,” he admitted.
“Well then, let’s not underestimate Sasuke either,” Florian clapped him on the back cheerfully, cheeks dimpling. “From what I hear of him, he’s got to be tough.”
Underestimate him. Naruto froze. Had he really been doing that? An uncomfortable flush crept up the back of his neck. All this time, had the only thing really holding him back was an irrational fear that if he ripped up the floorboards and showed Sasuke his beating heart that he’d be unable to bear it? That he’d take it and run, or drop it and leave?
When he has always been his only equal in the entire world?
The thought of it suddenly seemed so absurd.
Naruto nodded slowly, mind adrift. Florian clicked his tongue and disappeared back into the bar, but Naruto stood out there until his legs were numb, his ears hurt from the cold and the moon was a speck in the middle of the sky. Florian had long since closed up; the bar was dark and shuttered. Naruto hadn’t settled his tab.
He left some money tucked under the ashtray, shoved his hands into his pockets, and took one stuttering step off the veranda. The room at the inn he had the good sense to procure before smelt like mothballs and old candle wax, but despite the storm raging in his head, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
The letter Naruto read that morning over a breakfast of crusty bread, cheese and salsiz said:
Very dear Naruto,
I wish I could climb into your head and transcribe all your thoughts into a book for me to read, to see the world from your perspective. What is it like to think that everyone, and everything, is beautiful?
Such earnestness is vastly at odds with me. I can scarcely reconcile with it.
But because I know you, I now worry about the bug I carelessly crush or the shrill cry in the distance. I think, first, of going to their aid, and often I find I do because you would have. I long to be full of so much love and that cascades from me just as it does from you, in endless waterfalls and gushing rivers. So bountiful and generous it never seems to run dry.
I realise I understand you very little, despite my most fervent attempts to. I suppose all I can do is keep attempting it, again and again.
With all of my love,
Uchiha Sasuke.
Naruto turned the letter over in his hands, then laid it down on the bumpy, rustic table.
Dearest Sasuke,
As if you have never confused me either! What is it like, to think that everyone, and everything, is to be kept at arm’s length?
The idea that I have so much love to give is a misunderstanding. I have a big heart, and I value the world. This much is true But real, honest love? I too have people more special to me. Sakura—and you.
I’ve fought my way to your side and I’m digging my claws in. Really, if you ask me, I’d say that you are full of the same amount of love as I am. I know it. I’ve experienced it myself. I know what your love tastes like, and you’re my favourite flavour.
Your love may be hard-won and hard-earned, but they say nothing good ever comes easy. Winning you is like climbing a mountain to watch the sunrise.
I could never see the world always from your perspective, and I could never raid your mind for the thoughts you keep secret, but that’s what makes it all so exciting.
Love you always,
Naruto.
When he left the tavern, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, a dull pink blazing in a cloudless sky. Asking around, he soon found the right path to carry on towards the main village of the Land of Frost—but who should he find standing at the gate, wrapped up in furs with his head buried deep in his scarf?
“Florian,” said Naruto, pleasantly surprised. Florian lifted his head from his coat and blinked round, sleepy eyes at Naruto.
“Hello, Boy Wonder,” Florian raised a hand in greeting. Trace amounts of ash were scattered around his feet. Had he been waiting long? “Sleep okay in old Fitz’s inn?”
Naruto nodded. “You could’ve asked me to come in last night,” he replied, a tad reproachfully. “Did you get the money I left under the ashtray?”
Florian’s lips quirked up. “Indeed, yes,” he said, amused. “You were so lost in thought you overpaid, so here, I give you a treat. First, were you going to walk to the next town?”
Naruto nodded slowly.
Florian scrunched his nose and shook his head. “No no no. When you’re here, you take this.” He jabbed his thumb backwards, to a shed where, just in front, eight dogs with thick, fluffy coats and wagging tails were hooked up to a sled.
“Dogs!” Naruto chirped, amazed.
“My dogs,” Florian grinned. “Ach. Not mine. My family’s. Long story, but they’re in town, they need a workout, I’ll take you part of the way.”
Naruto beamed at him, mouth opening on a fervent yes please, when he made eye contact with one of the pups and it immediately shrunk back slightly, ears pricking in alarm.
“Uh,” said Naruto, wincing. “The thing is, dogs don’t like me.”
Florian looked between him and the pack. “My dogs are professionals,” he said dismissively. “C’mere.” He waved Naruto over, trudging through the frost layer that had crystallised over the snow on the ground. The dogs slinked a little away as Naruto approached, though he tried his best to fold in his overly-square shoulders and look much smaller than he was.
“Be nice,” he hissed to Kurama.
Kurama rolled his eyes. “I’m always nice,” he said, which made a dog bark.
“Alright boys,” Florian stood in front of his pack and slung a strong arm around Naruto’s shoulder. “This here’s my friend.” He gave Naruto such a hard clap on the back his hat almost fell off. “So you be nice.”
The dogs gave him a look that plainly said they considered this friendship a terrible idea. Florian ignored them. “Okay he’s a little scary, but you’d all be dead without him.”
Naruto’s eyebrows knitted together. He’s not sure about the plausibility of that statement, but when he opened his mouth to deny it Florian shushed him.
A dog yowled.
“That’s not very nice.” Florian said.
Another yipped.
“I promise he won’t eat any of you.”
The leader huffed, turned in a circle, and sat.
“Very good!” Florian turned to Naruto and clapped his hands. “Off we go then.”
Hesitantly, Naruto climbed onto the sled. The dogs shuffled and pouted, but otherwise accepted his presence. Florian checked over their gear for a couple more minutes, tightening straps, petting heads, and then they were off.
The first letter he’d read from Sasuke wasn't exaggerated. The Land of Frost was exactly as he had described it, with its swathes of pristine white, the trickling laughter of little far-off streams and that unnatural stillness in the air. It felt like the entire landscape was frozen in time, desperately awaiting something electric to kickstart it and make it spin once more.
True to Florian’s word, once the dogs started mushing they barely paid any attention to Naruto, pulling them along at breakneck speeds as they raced over the snowploughed surface and onto the next town. Snuggling back into the furs Naruto watched the blinding landscape and thick pine whizz by, once or twice spotting lone deer snuffling about in the thickets. The path gradually sloped upwards, and by the time they arrived at the next little town—which consisted of one shop and a lonely, tiny, inn—they were above the treeline.
The dogs panted as they trudged into town. They seemed to know where they were going, and hauled the sled into an empty lot beside the inn. Here Florian got off, shook out his legs and offered a hand to Naruto to pull him up.
He accepted, wobbly knees cracking as he stood and almost slipped on the snow.
“Sorry I couldn’t take you all the way,” Florian explained regretfully, dusting him off from the snow-debris of the dog’s furious paws. “The next stop after this is a bit too far for the dogs.”
“Nonsense, this was perfect,” said Naruto, cheeks flushed from the cold wind, grinning like a madman. “Your dogs really are something, aren’t they?”
The dogs’ ears pricked as if they understood the compliment. Florian laughed.
“Come around again, Naruto,” he said sincerely, hands on his hips as he beamed. “Bring your Sasuke with. Your drinks’ll be on the house.”
Naruto protested, but Florian wouldn’t hear any of it. Instead he waved as Naruto turned and trudged out of the small town, and when he glanced back at the very top of the slight hill, they were already gone.
He trekked on, using his chakra to walk atop the snowdrift, cutting directly across the plains. The unchanging terrain turned him around more than once, but he managed to make it to the second little village by nightfall. A friendly woodcutter offered him a place by the fire for the night, and the next night he stayed with a charcoal maker. On the third, he arrived in the main town.
Traces of Sasuke lingered here, but faint enough to suggest that he hadn’t stayed long. Out of habit he asked around, but received so many conflicting reports it dawned on him that Sasuke was using shadow clones to throw off his trackers’ scent.
It made no sense, since the only one tracking him was Naruto himself, and he could use senjutsu. Did he think he’d once again enlist the help of the entire village to hunt him down and bring him home? Or was he doing this simply for the love of the game? Naruto didn’t know, but he found it quite amusing all the same.
From that point on, his luck changed for the worse, and the Land of Frost wasn’t particularly kind to him. As soon as he left the main town, pursuing the faint wisps of Sasuke that lingered in the air, neither the weather nor terrain was on his side. Often he found himself holed up inside emergency mountain huts waiting out storms, other times he was stuck in small villages searching for a guide to take him across ravine and crevasse.
On top of all this, what could be worse than the bitter, stinging cold so bone-wrenching he felt certain he’d lose his fingers and toes and the tip of his nose? Or the weak, milky sun doing nothing to assuage the chill? The less said about the night that seemed to stretch forever, the better. It only took a few days for Naruto to get sick of it and coat himself in an insulating layer of chakra, blazing so defiantly the sun seemed to shrivel.
It was a wanton use of his power, so extravagant it made him self-conscious, even as he shared it with his guide and whoever was in his travelling party at that time. Rain, snow, sleet or hail, his chakra kept them all so warm and dry that they could even remove their scarves and mittens. Civilians thought him a god; shinobi regarded him with barely disguised envy. If Naruto’s blood had not been so cold it could freeze in his veins he might’ve pinked under the collective weight of their gazes.
Once, late at night in the middle of a blizzard, he turned to Kurama and said, with great disdain, “the amount of chakra you have is obscene.” His orange-red flames lit up the night like a forest fire, so thick and hot the snow melted on contact with the bubble surrounding him and his guide, tucked away in a similar ice-hole not too far away. There was a very real danger that the heat from his chakra could melt right through the snow, plunging them beneath the treetops, but they’d both taken the risk.
Kurama raised an eyebrow, huffing an amused little growl. “Naruto,” he said, sounding as patient as a saint. “You haven’t gotten to mine yet. All of this is yours.”
“Oh.”
Naruto stared up at the endless sea of grey that hung so low and ominously in the sky he almost seemed to be able to touch his nose to it. A ridge and a half away was the very edge of the Land of Lightning, and the entire area smelt like ozone and storm, the weather even worse than it had been further inland.
He thought about it more, all the things he could do with his strength, if he’d been born a little more twisted, a little less good. “You ever think one day this might all go to my head?”
A wry smile. “You wouldn’t get much further than declaring your plans for world domination before you get punched in the face.”
Naruto felt a sudden rush of affection for Sakura. He hadn’t heard from her in a while, but that was to be expected from being in the middle of absolute-freaking-nowhere. “You’re right,” he said, turned around and fell asleep, and he dreamt of home and the smell of her perfume.
Soon, though, the days became longer again, the chill less severe. At last, Naruto looked up from his travels to find that he’d managed to traverse the circumference of the entire Land. He had spent the last day trekking only downwards, back through the treeline and groaning pine, until patches of green and brown shone beneath the thin ice and he almost wept with relief as he bent to kiss the ground.
“You’re making a scene,” hissed Kurama, mortified.
“Thank the gods,” Naruto bawled. Several locals started to snicker. “Look at it. It’s grass.”
“Get a hold of yourself!”
Compared to the desolation he had endured, the border town was teeming with life. Both locals and holidaymakers had flooded here to spend the winter season somewhere actually quaint and picturesque. The wooden houses, dark-stained and with cute shingles and chimneys huffing white smoke, were adorned with an appropriate amount of snow, giving the village the sensation of having recently been dusted with icing sugar. Seasonal markets and street stalls decorated each cobblestoned road, and the central well had been done up with bright yellow lights that twinkled merrily.
Naruto abandoned all logic and raided these stalls for bread and sausage with melted cheese, pickles on sticks, deep-fried apple dumplings and so much mulled wine that he danced the cancan with a father of three, much to the chagrin of his very much adult children.
The night passed in a blur of potatoes and more wine, until he at least awoke the next morning on a plush hotel bed, a souvenir cup that had cost him an arm and leg dangling from his fingertips.
A soft morning light was filtering through white, translucent curtains, shining over the raw-wood planks and exposed beams in the ceiling. He stared up at the panels, tracked a prominent vein in the grain to its eye, then declared, “I’m never hiking the Land of Frost again.”
“If all goes well, no one will make you ever again,” said Kurama.
“He’s still going northward,” Naruto closed his eyes, picturing his mind-Sasuke in his head. Mind-Sasuke cocked his head and smiled at him. Lately—lately, mind-Sasuke had been getting kinder, softer. Less fuzzy around the edges. “Where do you think he’s headed next? I hope it’s warm.”
Kurama pondered it for a moment. “Where are we?”
Naruto rolled off the bed, mug dinging to the (thankfully) carpeted floor. His pack was strewn in the entranceway, so he shoved it upright and dug through it. “There,” he said, jabbing his finger right at the very south of the Land of Frost. “Civilisation,” he added. He studied the map for a bit, musing.
Then he screamed.
Kurama didn’t bat an eye. He sat there, licking his paw and fixing him with such a deadpan stare it ordinarily would’ve made Naruto shrivel. Not this time. Because this time, oh this time Naruto was having an epiphany.
“There’s no way,” he shrieked, pacing the room. “No, no way. No!”
“He knows you’ve read his letters,” Kurama countered, still trying to make a patch of his fur lay flat. “He knows you know about it.”
Naruto studied the map closer, eyes lingering on the spot where the Land of Frost and Hot Water met. “You really think so?”
“He’s a romantic,” Kurama replied, sounding disgusted by it. “I have no doubt.”
Naruto fell flat on his back, the ceiling swimming before him. He opened his mouth, closed it, sighed and rolled over. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” he said.
“Dear gods,” Kurama closed his eyes. “We’ve been walking for two months.”
“I’ve been walking for two months,” Naruto corrected huffily. “And—now I’ve got, I’ve got sunspots, and my beard’s kinda scratchy, and my hair’s all grown out, and I cut my nails with a paring knife so they’re all jaggy—”
“Get up.”
Naruto got up. His hands were shaking, and the room swayed as he stood there, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Following Kurama’s directions he disappeared into the shower, where he shaved as best as he could with the disposable razor provided by the hotel. He cut the long tail ends of his hair with a kunai, making his cut much shaggier than before.
Kurama interrupted him before he could have a breakdown over his weirdly choppy mullet-thing. “Daylight’s slipping,” he reminded, as Naruto stared at his reflection in the mirror and started to tear up.
“I look horrendous.”
“You look fine.”
“I look like a half-eaten cob of corn.”
“You don’t—” Kurama choked on a bubble of laughter, burying his snout into his paws to snicker. “It’s in fashion. Somewhere.”
Naruto blinked at the mirror in abject misery.
Kurama let him wallow for several minutes before he snarked, “Brat, he knows what you looked like when you were twelve. A bag of bird seed on your head won’t undo the years of romantic poetry I have suffered through on this journey.”
“You are so mean,” Naruto whined, but he regretfully tore himself away from his reflection and jammed his hat further down onto his head. The hotel’s information desk helpfully carried a lime-green tourist map of the surrounding area, at which the intersection of the Land of Frost and Hot Water was marked out as must-visit spot number 12. There was a gazebo. And a barbecue area.
Surprisingly, now that Sasuke really was just a whisper away, his feet turned to lead. He edged out of the hotel so slowly he put a snail to shame. He bought breakfast and sat to eat it, though the pretzel turned to mush in his mouth. A frail grandmother could have outpaced him when he resumed his journey, heart so low and heavy in his chest it sat there like a great big overripe watermelon.
What would probably have taken an ordinary citizen an hour took him three. The gazebo, when he finally saw it—opening the pit in his stomach wider—was abandoned, lonely, and covered in three feet of untouched snow.
Beyond it, an intricately carved steel railing prevented anyone from sliding down the embankment and into the mostly dried-up river. Westwards, he remembered. He remembered all of Sasuke’s letters word-for-word. Dutifully, he turned his feet in the right direction, eyes casting out over the sloping landscape. It was beautiful, even its stillness, the exposed rock and grey of the surroundings, bare trees and thick pines dotting the hillside. A breeze stirred up the firs, rustling the needles, and carrying the scent of water and bergamot to his nose.
The hair on the back of his arms rose, his skin goosebumping as his insides cried out a noise like an explosion. His pupils dilated, his teeth sharpened so suddenly he split his lip open on them.
And he was off like a rocket.
In Sage Mode, the energy of the world flowed through him and over him like he was swimming in a river. Everything that was alive and had ever been alive encouraged him, empowered him; thick roots beneath the trees, seedlings yet to bloom, birds on branches and sleeping squirrels in trunks. The universe cried out a single word in unison: fly.
He left no footprints as he rocketed through the landscape. Sasuke’s chakra unfurled like a precious blooming bud; chrysanthemums and hibiscus stretching out their petals, beckoning. The terrain was treacherous, with sudden dip and ravine in the mountainside. Naruto leapt over them without looking, chakra so loud in his ears he felt he was in the middle of a wind tunnel. Around his neck, the pendant that had weighed him down and buoyed him throughout his journey felt so light it made his feet lift off the ground.
It happened so suddenly he didn’t register it. He landed on cut stone, shot past a worn rock lantern, and missed the steps into an overgrown courtyard. With a yelp and a curse, he tumbled heads-over-heels and slammed into an exterior wall, before laying there sprawled out and panting. His chakra still flickered over him like an orange blanket, absorbing the impact without dimming.
He was about to roll over and push himself up when familiar footsteps rang out over the courtyard. Naruto froze in place, legs dangling above his head as they got closer and closer, before coming to a rest in front of him. He felt like he was going to be sick as his gaze moved up from a pair of black boots and finally came to rest on his love.
Sasuke was beautiful even upside down. His hair was unusually long and it tumbled in dark, inky swoops down to his shoulders. Wavy, Naruto noted as though watching everything happen through a television screen. It made sense; the duck-butt spikes when it was kept short had been natural. In lieu of his black travelling cloak, which he’d left back in the Land of Birds what felt like a lifetime ago, he wore a dark red, almost blood-coloured cape coat.
Naruto stared at him, too overwhelmed to move.
Softly, Sasuke said, “watch your step, usuratonkachi.”
Naruto’s grin split his face and tears sprung to his eyes as he rolled forward onto his feet and flung himself into Sasuke’s arms. The man tottered and swayed but didn’t fall, arm wrapping around him and holding him tight.
Naruto’s face found his neck, and he buried his head into it, inhaling deeply. Still in Sage Mode Sasuke’s chakra flickered, reaching out to meet his and meld into a form so intertwined Naruto knew not where his ended or Sasuke’s began.
He smelt vaguely like sulfur from the onsen waters, like mist and plants from their surroundings. Naruto’s hands tightened and tightened until he could feel each muscle in Sasuke’s body twitch and move, his inhale and exhale and every pulse of his heart.
He felt it when Sasuke chuckled softly, hand rubbing his back gently.
After a long while, he pulled away and cupped Sasuke’s face with both of his hands. The love of his life was pale and tired, but just like him the eye not covered with a piece of black cloth was sparkling and his mouth couldn’t resist the upward twitch of a small smile.
Naruto had rehearsed what he’d say to Sasuke so many times he knew it like the back of his hand. He’d gone over all the words he knew in his limited vocabulary to express just how much and how ardently he adored him. But in the end, all he could say was, “I love you too.”
The great Uchiha Sasuke immediately pinked, going red in the face.
“I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you,” he continued. “I love you. I’ve loved you since I knew what it was to really love. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I never will.”
Sasuke pinked deeper, the red disappearing down his neck and into his coat. Naruto followed the colour with his eyes, heart thudding so loudly he knew Sasuke could hear it. Sasuke’s eyes flicked to the ground, to the boots he’d worn almost to their sole over the course of his journey. He asked, “even though I ran away?”
Naruto blinked, puzzled. “Why would that matter?”
A wry smile flitted across Sasuke’s lips. “I doubt you were secretly hoping for a chance to relive our glory days.”
Naruto’s hands slid from his face, to his neck, down his shoulders onto his waist. The thick fabric kept him from reaching his skin, from digging his hands into his sides. “Sasuke, the second I opened that first envelope I knew what you would do.” Unfurling Sasuke’s fist, he lifted it and pressed his lips to his icy knuckles. “I know you, all of you, and I love you for it.”
The wind whistled through the firs, rustling their branches of thick needles. Sasuke stood there, as frozen as the ground, watching Naruto with eyes like the comfort of shade on a hot summer’s day. “You are a fool,” he said softly.
A crooked grin. “Only for you,” Naruto returned.
“I’m awful at expressing myself,” Sasuke warned, after a moment of prolonged silence. “I need to go through every iteration there is to say the words before I perfect it. I’ll hurt you and say the wrong things. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”
“I know,” said Naruto, simply. “But you’ll also say all the right things. You cannot believe how—how happy your letters made me.”
More pink, this time collecting around Sasuke’s ears. Naruto watched, hopelessly endeared, as he ground his feet into the snow. “You liked them that much?”
“So much!” Naruto agreed at once. He took a step back, dropped to his knees, and fumbled to open his pack. “For you,” he said, pressing a weathered tin of biscuits into Sasuke’s hand.
Sasuke’s mouth fell open.
“And also for you,” Naruto pulled out all the letters he carried and peeled away three-quarters of the stack. “I replied to all of them,” he said, holding them up for Sasuke to see. “You can read them when you can.”
Sasuke turned the tin of biscuits over in his hand, thumb rubbing the embossed PRODUCT OF KONOHA seal on the back. “You carried them all this way?” He asked, bewildered. “Naruto, that’s—the weight—”
“Kurama handled it.”
The fox, quiet until now, laughed.
“Will you hold on to this for now?” Sasuke asked gently, giving Naruto back the tin. “No hands,” he said, wiggling his stump.
“Was that a joke?” Naruto teased as he tucked the letters back into his pack, taking care to make sure he didn’t crease them.
“Yes. I make jokes now.”
Naruto looked up at him. Sasuke was wearing an expression he had never seen on his face again, eyes pinched and taut, lips flattened into a thin line. There was a quip here, something to be said about the difference between his expression and his words, but he never got to say it.
Because with one hand, Sasuke hauled Naruto up by his orange jacket and kissed him.
The world went quiet. Sasuke’s mouth was surprisingly warm in the chill, but his nose was a cold spot pressing against his cheek. He had been worried about this moment; that his lack of practice and inexperience would make this an awkward experience for the both of them, but it came so naturally he almost felt born for it.
His hands slipped behind Sasuke’s waist, pulling him closer. Their mouths slotted together as Naruto pressed more insistently up against him, feeling the wiry strength of him in all his bones and muscles, that solidness that told him real, real, this was real.
It was Sasuke who pushed him away, trembling. A gentle, powdery snow had begun to fall, it melted on Naruto’s flushed cheeks and collected on Sasuke’s long, dainty eyelashes.
Sasuke drew himself up to his very full height. His eyes were bright and alive and they sparkled with joy. “I adore you,” he said. “It’s snowing, and you’ve travelled so far. Come inside.”
Naruto’s answering grin was so wide he split his chapped lips and hurt his numb face. He stumbled into the house, following Sasuke through the ruins until he came to the rooms that were still intact. Among them was the sunken hearth living area, which Sasuke seemed to have renovated—it was outfitted with modern conveniences, like a sleeping bag, camping equipment, and lit oil lamps that flickered gently.
Sasuke guided him to sit beside the hearth as he made up the fire, then toweled off his hair.
Naruto let him, sitting obediently as Sasuke stripped him of his jacket and outer layers to dry beside the fire, not entirely sure if he was real or dream. Once Sasuke had done all his chores, had fluffed out the sleeping bag and stoked the fire to a roaring heat, he came to him, crawled into his arms, and kissed him.
Years spent craving, wanting, gnawing on scraps and old bones had given way to this meal, a buffet, because Sasuke kept giving, and giving, and finally, Naruto understood what it was like to be full.
Hours later, rehydrated soup bubbling in a small camping stove in the hearth, Naruto nuzzled face further into Sasuke’s chest. Their bare legs were tangled, as the love of his life played with his hair and tugged on the haphazardly cut ends.
Night had risen, but the snowfall hadn’t abated. This far into the manor and shielded on all four sides by the still-standing walls and ruins of other rooms, the rickety and old central living area was more than adequate to keep the elements at bay.
The falling flakes muffled all noise from the outside world; all Naruto could hear was the bubble of the soup, the sound of Sasuke’s breathing, and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. In the mountains, the stillness had unnerved him, but now, having been snowed-in so many times, it was a sensation he found oddly comforting.
But he barely bothered with the outside, too focused was he on Sasuke; this is what it felt like to hold him close. This is what it felt like, to have his hands in his hair and feel his heartbeat thumping beneath his chest. It’s better than anything he could have dreamt up, and dream he did, for most of his adolescence.
He could’ve had this earlier, but then again he wasn’t sure—if it would have been this good, to have it earlier, if it the moment could have been any more perfect. He wondered what would’ve happened if he’d crawled into Sasuke’s bed when they were still recovering from their battle at the Valley of the End, if he would’ve welcomed Naruto as kindly and openly as he did now.
A part of Naruto didn’t think so. They had needed it, all the awful ten years of it to wait and yearn and want. Maybe in a different life, he dreamed, nuzzling his nose into Sasuke’s neck, he could have proposed to him in a park with a ring made of little daisies when they were seven. Rambunctious childhood friends turned sweethearts, married fresh out of school to the envy of all. Could’ve known what it was to know him even longer than this.
He felt his greed roil around in his belly. Here he was, armful of Sasuke, alive and breathing and as much in love as he was with him, and still he wanted more. Wanted all the years of his life, and all to come after. He kissed Sasuke’s neck in a paltry apology for the claim he was staking on him.
“Tell me about your adventures,” Sasuke murmured, hand playing with the blue diamond dangling from his chest. “What did you see? Who did you meet?”
Naruto nipped his exposed clavicle. “You gave Ayana a fright.”
Sasuke pinked. “Oh,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Well, if we start at the beginning—when the sack full of letters first arrived at the post office, Sakura and I thought you might be inside it.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“I thought you were gonna jump out and yell boo.”
“When have I ever done something like that?” Sasuke replied, offended. “I’ve never been so crass or crude in my life.”
“Your naked body is being pressed against me, darling,” Naruto laughed as the flush crawled down his neck and tainted his chest. “We’re both doing things we’ve never done before.”
Sasuke sputtered, seemed to want to flail a little, then retreated from the chill beyond the sleeping bag and into Naruto’s chakra-warm skin. Instead he huffed, and with a haughty tone he asked, “like cutting your own hair?”
Naruto flinched so hard he knocked his head on Sasuke’s chin.
“It—you—”
“Very fetching. Shag is in,” Sasuke continued.
“Please stop.”
“I didn’t bother. Perhaps I should have. Did you use a kunai?”
“I—how did you know that?”
“Because I know you,” Sasuke replied. There was a heartbeat of silence. “I know you, all of you, and I love you for it.”
Naruto gently rolled them over, both his palms landing beside Sasuke’s face. He was red in the cheeks but smiling, he looked so divine Naruto bowed to touch their foreheads together.
“It’s a good line,” whispered Sasuke. “When did you get so romantic?”
“When I read your poetry.”
Sasuke let out a little huff of what might have been laughter. “I only learned how to write poetry because of you.”
“Honestly,” Naruto admitted, kissing the corner of his lips and watching as they trembled. “I don’t really know where I end and you begin. As far back as I can remember there was always you.”
Sasuke answered with a kiss so tender it made his toes curl.
If travelling alone had been fun, travelling with Sasuke was better. Naruto got kisses. And hugs. He got to hold his hand as they jumped from tree to tree. He got to sleep in a double bed warmed by Sasuke’s body, he got to buy him silly souvenir hats, and the man, who was also so stinking in love with him that he went along with whatever Naruto did, actually wore it.
They celebrated the New Year with local fireworks and yakitori. He burnt his tongue badly on takoyaki and failed to fish out a rubber duck to win Sasuke a giant plush toy of a banana. Everything was perfect. He cried when Sasuke kissed him at midnight, and cried again when Sasuke reminded him of it later.
It was February by the time they arrived back in Konoha, and Naruto managed to time it just right so that when they had just crested the hill and emerged from the treeline the panels burst into a brilliant explosion of light and colour.
Sasuke stopped dead, the wind whipping his hair, surrounded by the glare of a thousand little suns in the sky. He cast his eyes out over the unrecognisable city before him, sprawling and clinging to the sides of their dish like determined little ants. The windcatchers bellowed a low baritone as gusts rocketed through their pipes.
It was a moment before he spoke. “Did you do this?”
“Do you like it?” Naruto asked instead.
Sasuke stared out over the city, twinkling like a disco ball in the early morning. Each reflection cast rippling beams of light across the buildings and paved roads, giving it the vague feeling of being submerged in water. The wind blew again, and the windcatchers sounded their chorus once more. It was ethereal; Naruto adored it. He adored Sasuke’s reaction even more. He’d barely made an expression, but Naruto knew his heart was beating wild in his chest. Somehow, he could feel it.
“I really like it,” said Sasuke, after a while. “I’d always said Konoha got too wet.”
“I remember. Your towel didn’t dry quick enough and you had a breakdown in front of the de-humidifier.”
Sasuke froze. “I wasn’t aware you’d seen that.”
“I swore to fix it on that day,” Naruto said wistfully. “Anything that is within my power, I’ll make it better. I’d build a Konoha we can all love. One that maybe you could forgive, and make a home in. Because it has changed. And if it hasn’t changed enough, I’ll make it change more.” As much as Sasuke moved him to creation; he also moved him to destruction. When rebuilding Konoha he’d insisted they tear down everything—any surviving buildings, their political system, old laws and rulers—to start again like a blank slate. How many times did you have the chance for something so complete as the fresh start they’d been given?
To rebuild Konoha, Naruto had destroyed it once again. There were no old buildings, no historical artefacts. Not a single tree or a stone was where it once stood. The War Memorial, the Uchiha plaque, all of it bright, shiny and new, remembering the past but always looking to the future. The surety that he’d do it again, merciless and without flinching, kept the creeping shadows of Konoha’s vast underbelly at bay.
He snuck a glance at Sasuke, but he was lost in thought. His canines were chewing on his bottom lip, turning it a delightful shade of red.
Eventually, he said, “I have walked a lot of places. I have been to every known Land, and seen places so remote I must have been the only soul there for hundreds of years.”
Naruto hovered by his side patiently. Sasuke reached out and, as though they’d done it a million times before, took his hand, interlaced their fingers, and slid it into his coat pocket.
“Maybe I’m just getting old. Maybe it’s a quarter-life crisis. But now all I want to do is just lay down.”
“I’ve got a bed for two,” Naruto said. “And space for your toothbrush. Your favourite tea is always kept in the cupboard. Heck, the apartment is in your name. Make any changes you like. Sell the place, I don’t care. Whatever you choose to do—you know I’ll always love you.”
Sasuke’s eyebrows pinched. “You’re a fool.”
“A fool in love,” Naruto sing-songed. He tilted his head and kissed him; he tasted like the sweet mikans they’d nicked from the tops of trees. As they began the descent into Konoha proper, Sasuke seemed to suddenly register his words.
“Why is your apartment in my name? I didn’t sign anything.”
“I maaaaay have forged it. You gave me all your official stamps.”
“But then it’s mine.” Sasuke regarded Naruto with something akin to horror. And amazement. “I could—Naruto, that is incredibly reckless. I could take it away from you.”
“Take it away then,” Naruto shrugged. Sasuke smacked his shoulder so hard he felt his bones rattle. “Hey! You said it was a nice apartment when I showed you the realtor pamphlet. Great location, lovely view and on a high level. You liked it!”
“I didn’t mean buy it for me. I could make you homeless!”
“Oh please,” Naruto complained. “I’m Uzumaki Naruto. The only home I know is you, and even then I wouldn’t have been homeless for long. All your assets had been frozen during the War! Who knows where they’ve gone or who has misappropriated them.”
“It’s an apartment!” Sasuke started to sound shrill.
Naruto gently squeezed his hand. “It can become a shared marital asset.”
This shut Sasuke up for a solid minute, face red and eyes furious. He stomped further down the path, then stopped to hiss, “you are insane. All that chakra has addled your brain.”
“I love you.”
“You realise that does not help your case.”
“Say it back.”
Sasuke’s lip curled. A panel spun at this moment, reflecting a sunbeam down onto the two of them, lighting Naruto’s hair up like a halo. It seemed to stun Sasuke, because he faltered, eyes widening imperceptibly.
Then he sighed, made a rude gesture, and turned around again.
Naruto jogged to keep up with him. He opened his mouth to whine, but Sasuke beat him to it by turning smartly on his foot and kissing him.
“I love you too. Don’t ever do something like that without asking me first.”
Naruto gingerly kissed his nose. “This isn’t a good time to tell you about the farmland you own in the east, is it?”
Sasuke’s face went white. “Naruto!”
Naruto picked him up and spun him around, and his laughter—and Sasuke’s protestations—were stolen by the breeze, carried by the windcatchers, and sent gently out over the city and the tips of their trees.