Chapter Text
Sasuke was used to silence. He’d grown up with it. Since he was seven, there had been nothing but silence.
Warping all around him, the silence had done nothing beyond leaving him devoid of the sound of laughing, of scolding and lectures, of stories about their clan and the lives in the Police field. A time so long ago it scarcely made itself known in his memories, a little Sasuke would beg endlessly for more of the said stories , and refuse to talk to anyone if they would refuse, to great laughter and fond chatter of amusement.
Then silence surfaced, stemming from screams—of fear, of agony. Screams that begged for mercy, screams that weren’t even heard before the throats that vibrated them were cut and slit. Screams that had happened a decade ago, and yet still echoed in Sasuke’s head, a sharp, cruel contrast to the silence of everything else.
Sasuke shook his head in a jerk, embarrassingly violent.
Even then, when he was seven, eight. When he was twelve, thirteen—when he was sixteen with his brother reaching the end of his life in his twenties. Even then, with the silence, he was still always able to see. Always had his eyes work fine. The entirety of his identity depended on his eyes after all—“How much can you see… with those eyes of yours?”—with the splatters of blood resting forever over his eyelids, drenching everything, everyone.
Now though, there was not only silence, but there was also a blindness. A horrible darkness, paired with the restraint around his body. He could still feel his chakra, pulsing around his body, but it wasn’t as strong as it could be. Chakra seals, was his guess.
He could break out of them, he could.
Nothing was stopping him. There was no reason he shouldn’t.
They probably had broken out, manic laughter directed to themselves. Manic laughter at the act of Konoha even thinking they could keep them restrained.
Because Konoha simply couldn’t. They were so strong. And Sasuke was, too. Chakra seals so little—meant nothing. He could so easily break out, so effortlessly that it could almost be read as insult.
So why wasn’t he?
The phantom press of fingers ghosted his forehead, and Sasuke’s restrained body moved in a flinch underneath the straitjacket holding him.
Why was Sasuke here after everything that happened?
Red bled into his closed off vision. Blood, blood, blood. Corpses, blood, more blood, everyone dead. Again and again. Over and over and over. Falling. His mother, his father, uncle, cousin, aunt, grandma, grandad, everyone—all of them. Again, another time, it won’t stop—
The blood red moon of Itachi’s Tsukuyomi delightfully twinkled mockingly as it stared down at him.
Sasuke twitched once, and then, before he’d processed it, the chakra seals were off.
His chakra was spreading everywhere, rushing through his body, heavy like it had been pumped inside of him. It was not only innate, but it was pulsing and warming up his cell, familiar sensations drumming against the air and gently upon Sasuke’s skin. Sasuke blinked behind his blindfold, chest heaving, panting for no exact reason. His breaths were sharp through his nose, overdramatic as they left his mouth. He was trembling, he realised suddenly.
Itachi’s face rippled itself into his mind. Sasuke allowed for it to float there for a moment before he forced darkness to invade instead, clearing images and thoughts. A faint blue swirled its way through, and Sasuke’s body found itself sagging.
The shade of that blue…
The chakra seals back on him, body disarming itself to them. He sank in his straitjacket against the wall, closed his eyes though there was no need to, and listened as his breaths did everything with the exception of evening out.
In between the singing of darkness and basic understanding of reality, Sasuke drifted into what he assumed to be sleep. Somewhere, between the two, Sasuke felt something warm cupping the skin of his cheek. The colour blue greeted his hazy eyes before they slid shut against. A voice, tight and sad, somewhere by his ear whispering out the words:
“I’m sorry.”
Sasuke’s lips twitched into a smile for no reason. He wanted to laugh bitterly to himself but he found he had no strength. No—no, it wasn’t because he had no strength. It was simply because he felt… tired.
The feeling left his face and Sasuke leaned as best he could against the wall. Anger simmered once inside of him, before it died.
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There was a burn in Kakashi’s eyes, and the two pupils shoved inside his skull were, for the first time in so many years, both the colour of stark black.
The owner of the single, red eye that had once defined everything to do with Hatake Kakashi, from his powers to his title to his credibility, was sitting opposite him. Well, opposite, Kakashi mused, but far enough his presence was confined to the middle of the large room, Kakashi elevated on a stand so much higher.
Homura and Koharu were on either side of him, faces deep in harsh scowls. The prickles of discomfort Kakashi felt were strong, their company doing more to establish that rather than diminish it. The Godaime and the clan heads were all stationed around in their respective places, Shikamaru and Ino among them, while Obito had his arms blanketed by chakra-sealing restraints and his face cushioned by a thick blindfold. His pale hair that had yet to fade back into black caught the light, the flickers bright to Kakashi.
Naruto’s shouts and yells had been asserted as an attempt to to pass on his own, clearly important little judgments, but Kakash’s refusal had been adamant. He had no need for Naruto’s, while endearing, unneeded objections to anything that went against the people he’d forgiven and began to cherish. The unnecessary actions would only serve to irritate everyone further than the rather strong irritant that was circulating as results to the fact that Uchiha Obito and Uchiha Madara were still alive.
There was also the small fact that the latter was someone who would stay alive, due to the First Hokage’s insistence and further interference with Madara’s pathways, making him practically immortal, before the edo-tensei was disabled and he obliterated into the horizon with a “hah hah”.
Keeping fucking Uchiha Madara—Uchiha Madara.—contained was a job that would take years off Kakashi’s life
Madara was staying relatively docile, surprising others and merely causing major relief to Kakashi. He was faintly curious as to why, however. Guilt, perhaps? Atonement? His own way of beginning the path that was his ‘second chance’, word and specific phrase spoken by Lord First.
Banishment from Konoha, the certainty he’d stray nowhere near them, was the rather popular idea humming in the air of the council, execution being a solution crossed off the list. The idea was being pushed down by Kakashi. While the containment of the man in jail wasn’t exactly an option, as no amount of security could prevent Uchiha Madara from getting the hell out of somewhere when he decided it was time to, however exile from the village was impractical and simply risky. Madara was not a man they could simply allow to roam free through the Land of Fire.
Yeah, Kakashi was beginning to feel very, very bitterly towards the First.
The one good thing that had risen out of the whole ordeal was the fact that Sasuke looked like a saint compared to his two relatives. Kakashi was fairly sure the boy’s release would come to him soon, to Naruto’s river of happy tears when he’d eventually be informed.
However, right now, Kakashi’s purpose was not to be focusing on Madara or Sasuke. Right now, all he was meant to do was discuss Obito, or, more specifically, whether the Sharingan should be allowed to stay sitting in Obito’s eye sockets, or whether they should be transferred back to Kakashi, the Hokage.
Nausea rose inside Kakashi at the thought of it; of the thought of those eyes back inside himself. Revulsion was the crux of it.
“Obito,” Kakashi sighed. Heads snapped towards him, every single one, including Obito’s.
Kakashi spoke directly to the man who was a shadow of his old friend. The clan leaders tended to fall into the horrible habit of talking about the people they were trialling as if they were not in the room, and it was something Kakashi wasn’t necessarily desiring. Kakashi’s voice as it left his throat was steady in a way that was beautiful, 100% apathy and 0% sentimentality. Perfect.
“Do you stand by Konoha? Using those eyes, will you protect Konoha as you did in the war?”
“Yes,” was Obito’s reply.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“As if that means anything,” Hiashi snapped, grey eyes being rolled. “Forgive me, Hokage-sama, but this man’s word does nothing to make us feel inclined to forgive. Our former Hokage is dead because of him, nothing will change that, not to mention he’s a member of the Akatsuki, and,” he pointed an accusing finger in Obito’s direction, who appeared both unseeing and uncaring of it. “Was the alleged leader of the terrorist organisation. He killed and attacked many of our shinobi, what are we to say to the families of those whose blood he’s shed? It doesn’t matter that he helped end the war if he’s the one who started it.”
Hiashi was right. It was so irritating, because he was right. If Obito wasn’t Obito, then Kakashi would feel nothing but hatred and contempt towards him. He’d want to see the man who’d caused so much suffering pay for it, not be allowed to live because he was friends with the Hokage.
Kakashi was not allowed to be selfish—That was a fact. It changed nothing that this was the dead-not-dead teammate he’d thought he’d lost and grieved at least 5 times now. The teammate whose role was once to brighten Kakashi’s life and world. He had been an arrogant little teenager who would feel nothing but grief everyday as the image of his father’s body would surface in his mind, those unseeing eyes fixed upon him, even when dead, as if apologising, asking for forgiveness Kakashi had never given until Obito came. Until Obito made him see the truth, made him live his life again.
But that meant nothing.
(“Do you miss him?”
“No.”
A pause. “Why not?”
“You know why.”
Obito had stared at him through his bright, ugly orange goggles. He shuffled a little closer, as if unconsciously. “Would you miss me?” he asked. “If I died?”
“No.”)
Kakashi had missed him, painfully so, and his sharingan had pulsed as if to make certainty of it every time he did.
“We should compromise, then,” Shikamaru spoke up, glancing at the elders, no doubt aware of the way subtle anger was radiating all around them, attacking the particles in the air with horrible ferocity. “One eye will be with the Hokage, and the other with the Uchiha.”
“As it has been for the past two decades,” Tsunade said, nodding.
The sound of a hand slamming against the table rang through the room. Kakashi looked up wearily to see Homura standing, an incredulous expression marking his face.
“It shouldn’t be allowed,” he declared rather unsurprisingly.
Naruto really ought to be Hokage, Kakashi mused as he sat under the heavy, annoying white and red hat. The change would certainly make Sasuke a lot happier, as all Kakashi could ever from his former student whenever he would make his way into his cell was a severely sulky demeanour.
“Why are we handing so much as any power to the Uchiha?” The clan name was spat out from Homura’s lips like it was a slur. “Uchiha Madara is alive, Uchiha Obito is alive, Uchiha Sasuke is alive, and they get to keep their horrid eyes? When they would likely just use them against us? They’ve done it before, and we all know they’d do it again, so why should we allow it?”
Kakashi glanced over at Hiashi, having the expectation that he’d make some sort of agreement, however the man remained silent, lips pursing slightly. Obito didn’t so much as allow his body to even twitch, his face giving nothing away under the large amount of space covered by the blindfold.
“Excuse me,” Ino said, her hand raising in the air. She had the appearance of someone slightly out of place due to this being hers and Shikamaru, who turned to gaze at his teammate with a raised eyebrow and a small sigh from around the cigarette stuffed in his mouth, first time indulging in their newly instated roles of clan heads. The reason for that being Obito. “I understand the dubiousness surrounding Uchiha Madara. And, well, Uchiha Obito too, I guess… but Sasuke? He helped us in the end. And Obito-san did too, compensating for everything by being the reasons we won the war. Without them we wouldn’t be here, so shouldn’t we acknowledge that?”
“Your father died, Yamanaka,” Aburume said quietly, which was something that had been weighing slightly on Kakashi’s mind, too. “Yours too, Nara. Are you sure you want to defend the man responsible for it?”
Ino’s bright eyed, determined expression faltered, pastel coloured eyes hazy, as if locked in a memory. Kakashi’s jaw locked, too; Obito had hurt so many, and there was no forgiving that, as much as Kakashi wanted to. Ino and Shikamaru were doing more than any of the actually experienced clan leaders were, Kakashi mused with a flicker of almost pride that he was sure Asuma would have experienced so much more of, had Obito not been the indirect cause of his death.
“Danzo is dead because of those two,” Koharu added, an ugly expression of grief that was nothing but a facade smoothing itself onto her old face. “And are we forgetting the Yondaime? Uchiha Obito orchestrated the Kyuubi attack, and the Yondaime is dead because of that. That is unforgivable.”
“And the sandaime?” Ino stated, voice rising higher in clear nervousness, voice cracking in perhaps her own guilt for still talking. “Orochimaru killed him, but he isn’t imprisoned, nor have there been any repercussions surrounding him.”
“She raises a point,” said Tsunade, her voice coming out a more firmly, louder, booming around the halls and getting vaguely through to Koharu’s and Homura’s heads, their postures deflating slightly. “I believe Uchiha Sasuke is of the least fault of the three. He should be allowed to be released. As for the other two…” Her honeyed eyes narrowed as she gazed down at Obito, who’d raised his chin slightly, as if acknowledging her. “It’s less predictable.” She finished simply.
“This is not a trial discussing Sasuke,” Kakashi pointed out.
Tsunade laughed. “If it was then 100 different kage bunshins of Naruto would be lounging themselves here, each making sure to contribute to the vote,” she said fondly.
Kakashi watched as Obito, for the first time, twitched from where he was sitting. Kakashi found himself wondering what expression he himself would be making underneath his own mask.
“It’s not a trial discussing Sasuke,” Kakashi repeated. “Nor is it one discussing Madara. This is a—well, no one said it was a trial, at all—but a discussion about what to do with Uchiha Obito’s eyes. And, as the Hokage—”
Obito’s voice cut through. “Is Madara getting one of these?” His tone was louder, a manner of nonchalance slipping through, starkly different to his earlier, vague ‘yes’. Kakashi found himself blinking down at him, ignoring everyone else’s blatant disapproval at the ‘disrespectful interruption’ of the Hokage.
“Hmm?” Kakashi prompted, curious to see where Obito was going.
“Madara. Is he getting a ‘trial’ about his eyes? What about Sasuke, too? Both of them have the Rinnegan, so I’d think, since they are more dangerous, it’s their eyes you should take along with mine. Especially since Madara is the one I’d bet on being the first to attack Konoha.”
“Why aren’t we doing that?” Homura asked Koharu.
“Actually,” Kakashi said, preventing Koharu from making some questionable answer. “That is a good point. Rather, why are we taking anyone’s eyes? It’s their Kekkei Genkai, and so it should stay theirs,” declared Hatake Kakashi of the Sharingan.
He looked expectantly in Hiashi’s direction, aware that the Hyuga pride surrounding their dojutsu and practically everything else was as bad as the Uchiha one. Hiashi, as expected, had something betraying troublement on his face.
“Didn’t Danzo insert Sharingan eye balls into his own arm?” Obito drawled.
The effect was something that rippled deafeningly across the room. Scandalised gasps stemmed from the two elders, anger pinching their old features. Shikamaru and Ino had various expressions of shock, while all the clan elders and Tsunade seemed to be disgusted, some less surprised than others, and some more, though the revulsion was all in equal concentrations.
“Yeah, I saw the corpse,” Kakashi replied. It was a lie, but nobody needed to know that, however the room seemed to turn greener, realisation dawning onto faces as well as nausea. “It was sickening.”
Obito hummed, and when Kakashi looked close he noted the small grin on the corner of his mouth.
Kakashi wasn’t even sure why he’d lied—he hadn’t seen the corpse, his only way of even knowing Sasuke had killed Danzo being Sasuke’s own words. Kakashi had served under Danzo, had once been loyal to the man, as he was loyal to Konoha and everything that it stood for. However, there was something about Danzo that prevented any true doubt forming in Kakashi’s mind at the idea Danzo had undertaken what Sasuke and Madara—who was really just Obito—had been accusing him of. Seeing all that anger in Sasuke’s eyes, the fire of rage, the painful desire for vengeance, the tragic betrayal and sadness that took Kakashi’s breath away, he was used to it—had seen it on his student everyday. He didn’t like that it was there, and wiping it away was a job he’d tried to commit to. Sasuke, however, was stubborn the same way his brother was, only his brother had favoured for his own to be hidden. In the end, Kakashi could not save Sasuke, and it had to be Naruto. Naruto took away Sasuke’s anger, as he’d been working towards and training to make sure he could. Kakashi was proud of him. He wasn’t proud of Sasuke, but nor was he proud of himself.
Tsunade’s face had severe loathing twisting on her beautiful face, but there was a distinct lack of surprise, Kakashi knew she’d largely suspected Danzo’s hidden identity of a horrible, power-hungry man, fighting very admirably against him multiple times during her stressing reign as Hokage, and it was likely she had found out and had it confirmed later.
She nodded. “They are right,” she declared, looking directly at Homura and Koharu, as if daring them to contradict her.
“What?” Gasped Hiashi. Kakashi had assumed he’d known, but no, perhaps. It had probably reached the extent where only the truth about Itachi had been released to the public, Danzo’s involvement and little side hobbies remaining unknown. Shit, no wonder Sasuke was sulking.
“I wonder,” Obito mused, drawing attention back to him. “How different it would be if Danzo had an arm full of Byakugan.”
The second ripple was just as bad as the first. Kakashi had the deranged feeling of laughing. Why did he accept this job again?
“This is not the contents of this meeting,” Koharu hissed. “We are here to discuss whether or not Uchiha Obito should be allowed to keep his highly dangerous sharingan or whether it should be given to our Hokage, which has happened on multiple occasions before. Nothing more.”
“Naruto should get Sasuke’s Sharingan, then,” Shikamaru said lazily, scratching his scalp as if mad at himself for getting involved. “Or, fuck it, we should resurrect the First and give him Madara’s.”
“Orochimaru is still running around,” Tsunade agreed solemnly.
In the end, Obito got to keep both his eyes. It felt… easy, and Kakashi felt euphoric. Obito, however, would be escorted to and would have to remain in his cell the moment the trial came to and end. Kakashi found himself still staying grateful. He didn’t want Obito’s eyes—he never wanted them ever again.
“I’m going to die soon…” “Kakashi, take my Sharingan—” the horrible squelch as Obito’s eye found his socket, the memory of his friend and what had happened to him forever part of him.
Despite everything, Kakashi was really happy that Obito wasn’t dead.
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It was cold here, Madara noted. It seemed to be the only thing that the people were allowing him to note, however.
The pathways of his Chakra were blocked, heavy restraints snaking around his arms, not an inch of his body devoid of some sort of cuffs. It was vaguely pathetic, in that sense, and almost insulting, though Madara stayed in his role of a good boy, sitting patiently as he listened to the movements of someone who was in the room with him.
“Uchiha Madara,” said a voice finally, unfamiliar but that meant nothing; Madara had the memories of no voices from the war beyond that of Mito’s descendant and his own one.
The voice was firm, not cold necessarily but steely and layered with hardness from nothing but experience and apathy. Madara’s lips twitched; back in his day, everybody sounded like this.
“I assume this isn’t a soiree,” he said quite seriously. Sensing no amusement towards his not-joke from the man in the room did nothing to affect Madara; Hashirama was really the only person who he’d ever get to laugh, and Izuna sometimes.
A picture of an angry, spiky haired boy with a Rinnegan as his left eye made its way into his brain where instead it should be his brother. Madara’s grin didn’t move to waver, but something sharp captured his insides, prickling and grabbing at them. He pushed it away, allowing only darkness to form in front of his eyes again. The man came to sit opposite him, and Madara came to guess there was a table between them.
“As the leader of the Torture and Interrogation team of Konohakagure,” the man announced, “I am here to tell you that Uchiha Sasuke has been released from prison.”
“Who?”
He could imagine the raised eyebrow in his direction. “The boy who defeated you in the war.”
Madara rolled his eyes, yet his tongue was held. Hashirama should be beaming down at him from heaven for that showcase of control.
He knew who Sasuke was, which was obvious, but saying he defeated Madara was something that was wrong. It had been Madara’s own lack of foresight and Zetsu’s betrayal that had led him to his loss. Next time he would—no… no next time.
“He was released because we decided we trust him enough to not try and kill everyone. You on the other hand.” There was a click of a tongue, a head being shook. “What’s stopping you from waging another war on us as done before? You want nothing more than to kill us, don’t you? The moment you’re out of those restraints, we’re all dead.”
Madara laughed. The sound was loud and sudden in the otherwise quiet room, sharp and ragged. He sensed no annoyance from the other man, merely a stillness. Madara carried on, grating his ears with the chortles, barks which were echoing and ricocheting and bouncing against each wall.
This generation was so… stupid.
“Do you think I honestly care enough about you and your people to itch for such a thing?” Madara asked, grinning profoundly in the direction of the man, and he was able to darkly fix his eyes upon him despite the blindfold resting without shyness over them, vision cast off to the rest of the world. The man rather obviously recoiled, and Madara let out another, shorter laugh.
“Let me make one thing clear to you,” he said, tilting his head a fraction. “Hashirama—your hokage, the one who created this forsaken place, the one who I helped create this forsaken face—wished for me to be alive, so I am. You can keep me here forever, I don’t really mind, but you can’t kill me. I can kill you even with these restraints, but I simply don’t want to. Whether you release me or not, it doesn’t matter, does it? Doesn’t change a thing…”
He trailed off, pointing his eyes up in the direction of the ceiling, frowning.
He was unsure of why Hashirama had been so adamant for him to be given a ‘second chance’ as he called it, and he was equally unsure why these nin were so determined to honour the wish. His expectation was to be executed, what had been done to the rest of the Uchiha clan being his basis for that thought.
“I don’t care what you do to me,” Madara decided. “But Senju Hashirama does, up in the clouds as he is. Does he want me to be rotting in a prison forever? I don’t know.” He smiles at whoever the man is, whose composure appears to have been forced back upwards, him trying to pass off as calm in the great Madara Uchiha’s direct presence. “But I do look forward to whatever you choose.”
And he did. It would be interesting to see the decisions of the people who were supposedly the ideals of Hashirama’s dream world, the dream world Hashirama had done nothing but protect for as long as Madara had known him, a sword stuck through his chest being the raw evidence for that.
Madara grinned to himself as the man left the room. He wondered vaguely whether this conversation would end up leading to his release or not, but as he’d stated so inspiringly, it did not matter.
The moment Madara’s brain decided it was going to stop humouring Hashirama’s deceased one, he was out of here.
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A single arm wrapping itself around Sasuke’s waist was the first thing he felt after being honoured by the lifting of the chakra seals. Firm around him, greeting him, and then he’s being welcomed by the sight of blue—blue eyes specifically, and a smile so bright it hurt the eyes that had been blindfolded for so long.
Sasuke blinked in a an attempt to block out the harsh light painfully edging his vision. His eyes slid shut, Rinnegan pulsing in his socket, as if angry at how it had been cut off for so long. The arm fell away from around his waist, which is where it had been holding—hugging him.
“You’re free, Sasuke,” came that voice, the sheer optimism pulling something inside Sasuke’s chest. “They’re letting you free! It’s about time, don’t you think?”
Sasuke opened his eyes, and if tiredness hadn’t been slugging his body a smile may have sculpted itself upon his lips. Instead, his vision darted around until he noticed the figure of Kakashi standing at the door to the cell Sasuke had been confined in for an amount of time he didn’t exactly know.
“He’s right,” Kakashi said, eyes curving upwards. “We’ve cleared you.”
Sasuke stared at him. He didn’t exactly know what else to do. Should he thank Kakashi? He should, but Sasuke found himself unable to say anything. He swallowed, not realising how dry his throat had been until he did.
Naruto, his eyes falling over Sasuke’s adams apple as it moved, was quick to speak up. “Do you need water?” he asked. He turned his head. “Kakashi-sensei—”
Sasuke raised his only arm in a ‘no’, and it felt so weird, a strange phantom pull rising in what had once been his dominant hand and was now a rather pathetic stump. Naruto’s right arm mirrored it, but he was more fluid with his movements, Sasuke noted—a result of Naruto having the time to get used to it and train.
Naruto fell silent, something unreadable shifting in his blue gaze as he followed the movement.
Kakashi moved forward to the other side of Sasuke. Sasuke avoided looking into his eyes, for he knew he’d be greeted by disappointment, by contempt veiled in the illusion of concern that he was only holding up for Naruto and Sakura’s sake. Kakashi hated him, but he pretended otherwise to protect the dream of Team 7 being together again. Sasuke had deduced that as he’d looked into that disgusted expression Kakashi had worn throughout the war, throughout their fight where Sasuke had gone blind—did that count mentally as well? Had that fight, where he’d faced his former sensei with nothing but stubborn, harmful conviction, the harsh need to hurt… to kill the man who’d he’d once begrudgingly felt so safe with, marked his sightless stumble into his vague idea of retribution.
Then again, Itachi had formed the mark when he was seven years old. It had only expanded from there, with each hit to his skin, with each shove into that path, with every descension he’d taken, Sasuke had spiralled into something unforgivable.
“Sasuke,” Kakashi was saying. Sasuke flinched before he could think about it. and he bit the insides of his cheek as the both of them surveyed him instantly. “Are you alright?” Kakashi finished.
Don’t pretend to be concerned, Sasuke wanted to snap at him, and yet he had no anger flaring, nothing that was to be surfaced. His dumb little stump gave him a wave of terrible pain, travelling sharply up the broken nerves, and he had to bite his inner cheek even harder to refrain from wincing.
Naruto was on the side of him with the missing limb. His hands fluttered around for a second, unsure, before suddenly Sasuke was feeling a palm on his biceps, warm and steady, wrapping round the limb before gently pressing.
Sasuke jerked, eyes snapping to Naruto, whose face his rinnegan allowed him to see in so much detail, from the markings of whiskers on his face, their exact lengths, where they started and where they stopped, to the faded scabs of injuries that Sasuke had probably inflicted, one single, tiny scar that hadn’t existed before their battle resting over his left eyebrow.
Naruto met his gaze so softly, brows pulled together, a smile edging his lips, eyes a pool of shimmering ocean. “Sorry,” he murmured, retracting his hand. “It’s something Oba-san would do to me to stop my arm from hurting.”
“He means Tsunade-sama,” Kakashi clarified, and Sasuke didn’t dare look at the man, but he could guess he was fondly rolling his eyes. His two dark eyes, specifically, the sharingan gone. In Tobi—Obito—’s skull like it had always belonged too. Sasuke frowned. He really did not want to think about the both of them being alive right now.
“Not for long, though,” Naruto said happily, getting to his feet while keeping a steady hand over Sasuke’s ribline, helping him do the same without invading his space too terribly, “She’s making me a new arm. The both of us, actually.”
“Huh?” Sasuke spoke for the first time, and he sounded weak even to his own ears. He could see Naruto’s expression changing, just the tiniest reaction.
“Let’s explain in my office,” Kakashi said, taking Naruto’s initiative and also standing up. He swept his gaze over Sasuke, as if questioning to himself whether he should help too, before seemingly coming to the conclusion that Naruto had it covered. His hands made their way lazily into their pockets, but Sasuke could catch that tensing of his shoulders, the way he leaned slightly away from Sasuke, and Sasuke didn’t exactly blame him.
‘ “I’m just itching to kill you.” ’ And he had been. He would have killed Kakashi, willingly. He would have stuck the chidori into the chest of the man who taught him it if he could and wouldn’t have felt anything other than a crazed sense of vindication. And he had stuck the chidori into Naruto’s chest.
Sasuke felt ashamed at how much he was leaning his weight onto Naruto. His legs were sluggish, awful and irritating as they refused to just work. It was pathetic, shameful. Sasuke hated how tired he felt, hated that his body was overflowing with so much fatigue, that all he could really feel was just unneeded and unimportant relief because his eyes were catching things that weren't dreadful darkness.
Naruto’s hands were warm and steady, holding onto him as they walked through the halls. Had it been anyone else, Sasuke would have pushed them off and favoured to keel over inswad, but all it took was one brief glance at the peace defining Naruto’s expression to discard that, to cause his chest to calm and settle as if it was a blue canvas of a sky.
Kakashi was talking to Naruto, Sasuke realised. He knew he should stay vigilant, that he was Sasuke Uchiha, that he couldn’t allow his mind to wander, that he should be able to walk without needing Naruto to guide him, but he was just so fucking tired. His eyes almost slipped shut.
“We’re here,” Naruto whispered, breathing close to his ear. Sasuke blinked, and a small spasm of pain erupted from his left eye. He closed it, but kept his right eye open. Kakashi was pushing open the door to the Hokage office—the Hokage office that belonged to him. Kakashi was the Rokudaime, not Naruto. Sasuke had been… surprised to hear it. Ibiki had let it slip during one of their… interrogations? Sasuke wasn’t even sure what the point of them had been, each session seeming hopeless in an irritating way to Sasuke. He’d informed him either as an attempt to get a reaction out of Sasuke who’d barely even acknowledged him most of the time, or because Kakashi had ordered him to, maybe as a warning of some sorts.
Sasuke’s single remaining hand twitched, as if to shake off the feeling of the straitjacket as it had encased him.
Sakura was already in the office, green, bright eyes widening the moment she saw him, along with Nara Shikamaru and the Fifth Hokage—Orochimaru’s teammate who would be sometimes spoken about in quite a fond way Sasuke knew she didn’t return. There’d always been a faint nostalgic trait in Orochimaru’s voice whenever he did, as if he was expecting her to drop dead at any moment. Sasuke acknowledged them with a flicker of his eyes into their direction, before he was staring at the empty sleeve where Naruto’s arm had once been. He grimaced faintly.
“So, Sasuke,” Kakashi said, taking his place down on the seat behind the Hokage desk, folding his hands under his chin as he stared up with his two dark pupils. “As I said before, you’re being cleared. You’re no longer a prisoner of Konoha. That means you, along with Naruto, are being offered medical care.” He gestured towards Tsunade. “In the form as a replacement for your… ah… lost arms.”
Sasuke frowned as he cast his gaze to Tsunade, and then to the Nara standing a little way from him, and the displeased expression adorning his face was something Sasuke could practically feel weaving in the air, thick around his space.
“The arms are made up of the cells of my grandfather,” Tsunade explained, moving to stand beside Kakashi, her eyes fiercely pinning Sasuke down, hard with both power and danger. It expelled off of her, and something unexplainable shifted inside Sasuke. He was more powerful than her, by quite a lot, and yet Orochimaru had always claimed that this particular woman was one that regularly induced irrational fear to everyone.
Naruto, it seemed, was exempt from that fear. “Isn’t it great?” he asked, a grin pulling at his mouth as he spoke to Sasuke. His grin turned into a smile that was softer. “We… we can go back to normal.”
Silence introduced itself into the room. Sasuke swallowed uncomfortably. Okay, so how was he going to relay to Naruto the little issue of him wanting nothing to do with this arm?
Change the subject, his brain told him.
“What’s—” his voice cracked halfway. Sasuke’s tongue poked out to lick his dry lips, the room waiting patiently for him to continue, such a tender expression blanketing Naruto’s face causing Sasuke to have to look away. He fixed his gaze upon the fabric that was Kakashi’s mask which forever had the role of resting over his skin. “Tobi and Madara. What’s happening with them?”
“Ah,” Kakashi reacted simply. He looked sideways at his fellow Hokage before back at Sasuke. “They’re still imprisoned. We’ve allowed Obito to keep his eyes, but we’ve made no move to release either of them.”
“Then why release me?” Sasuke couldn’t help asking. His voice didn’t betray the smallness he’d thought would leak through. Kakashi’s white eyebrow raised slightly, but it was Shikamaru, surprisingly, who answered.
“You’ve done a lot for us,” he said. That was it. The others nodded, and Sasuke stared at them.
So that was it? It didn’t feel like enough. Sasuke thought of Itachi, the way his eyes glowed in a way Sasuke could only remember being present before in their early childhood, at the thought of protecting Konoha, of the same being visible in Naruto. He thought of his own disdain, his anger, the realisation that his family had been slaughtered, killed, massacred by this village—and how that anger was suddenly so non-existent.
Why?
Sasuke’s gaze caught sight of Naruto’s missing arm again. The picture of blue eyes surfaced in his mind once more; hopeful, caring, promising change, promising a dream of peace.
“He’s right,” Kakashi supplied. “You’ve done a lot. However,” his eyes steeled. Sasuke watched it happen tiredly. “You’ve also done a lot against us, too. Due to the… predicament involving the presence of your relatives, your crimes have suddenly become less severe, compared to theirs, at least. On the subject of that, I’m afraid we can’t allow you to leave Konoha under any circumstance unless you’re accompanied by Lady Tsunade or I.” Naruto made a noise from the back of his throat. “Or Naruto,” Kakashi added, eyes curving into a genuine smile. “Once he becomes Hokage.”
“You stole that job from me, ‘ttebayo,” Naruto grumbled, crossing his single arm over his chest.
“We made this official,” Kakashi continued. “Because we realise we may need you in the village. As much as it pained the clan heads and elders, in particular, to admit it, you’re quite the valuable resource, Sasuke.” Sasuke couldn’t shake off the bristle that his body had erupted. “And it’s quite evident that you and Naruto—together—are the only people who’d be able to stand against either Madara or Obito, if either of them choose to attack.”
Sasuke nodded dimly. The eye holding his rinnegan was still shut.
“Unfortunately, they don’t trust you very much,” was Kakashi’s blunt statement. “And their paranoia is heightened with your relatives being alive. They’re determined that you don’t stray at all anywhere away from the Leaf. And I was outvoted.”
“Outvoted?” Sasuke repeated. Kakashi smiled at him, and genuine or not, Sasuke felt as if his chest had developed a lighter feeling.
It was then when Sakura spoke up for the first time. “Kakashi-sensei, you’re forgetting something.”
Sasuke avoided looking at her, the memory of her teary, shocked, hurt expression as the Genjutsu of him slammed his arm into her chest, the way she’d sobbed as she aimed a kunai at his back, and the feeling of her throat solid around his fingers.
The atmosphere in the room changed.
“Am I?” Kakashi asked in a drawl, amusement soaking into the words.
Sasuke blinked. Naruto’s hand was carding strangely thought his own hair as a sheepish grin was sent to Sasuke’s direction.
“Well, uh, Kakashi-sensei only told me now.” He raised his hand defensively at Sasuke’s slow, dramatic eyebrow raise. “And I don’t mind it—actually, I love it! A lot, actually. I really like it a lot, but I’m not sure whether you—I mean I hope you like it, but if you don’t—”
“Naruto,” Tsunade cut in with a sigh. Sasuke’ gaze snapped to her, eyebrow continuing its ascension higher in a question. Tsunade rubbed her temple. “We’ve decided, since Uzumaki Naruto is the only trusted person whose strength can match and rival that of Uchiha Sasuke’s, that Naruto will shadow you.” She pointed her finger at the pair of them. “Naruto is to be with you 24/7!”
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Naruto felt bad as he thought about the lack of trust currently circulating around Sasuke, the adherent restraint that was being forced upon his friend, and yet it all still felt so joyful to him. The idea of it, that after three years of being apart, Sasuke was here with him, and that Sasuke was going to stay with him for a long time.
He, Sasuke and Sakura walked together out of the Hokage’s office after Tsunade had finished adding the final details to the subject of arm replacements. Naruto had caught Sasuke’s expression—the way his face had twitched into a frown deeper than his usual, the faintest thread of emotions betraying him as it slowly surfaced in his eyes. He’d watched as Sasuke forced it down, watched as that openness had become closed off, and Sasuke was merely staring at Kakashi and Tsunade blankly.
Seeing it caused Naruto pain.
And still, Naruto was happy.
He felt better than he’d done in so long. The war was not something he cared about, nor did he care that the two people who’d started the war were sitting in the village alive. He didn’t care that the weird people in charge were still making decisions about the whole ordeal, that things hadn’t been completely solved yet—he didn’t care that it was Kakashi-sensei who was acting as Hokage and not him.
All he cared about was Sasuke. That he could feel the contact of Sasuke’s body, pressing slightly against his. He was in Sasuke’s presence, Sasuke was here with him, and that there was no animosity, no hatred, no thirst for vengeance acting thickly between them, determined for them to be forever apart. And it felt like Naruto was free.
It felt like the pieces of Team 7 had finally reconnected, finally allowed themselves to be untethered from all those shatters.
“I’m going to take the corner,” Sakura suddenly said.
Huh?
“Wait, why?” Naruto asked, staring at her. Sasuke remained harshly silent beside—beside—him. Sakura’s green eyes hesitantly flickered over to Sasuke before she was plastering on a smile that was clear to Naruto to be painfully artificial.
“I feel tired,” she stated in a rather abysmal lie. Naruto’s jaw ticked as she left, and he hated that it did.
“We’re going to the Uchiha Compound,” Sasuke announced. Naruto’s head whipped round to stare at him, before he nodded mutedly.
“Lead the way,” he replied, gesturing funnily. Sasuke turned around without a word and began a steady pace in the same direction that Naruto had witnessed him take quite the amount of items when they were kids, right up until they were 13. Before Sasuke was simply gone, leaving with him nothing but a discarded hitai-ate.
(But he wasn’t now)
A rush of warmth flooded Naruto’s insides.
Sasuke was with him.
Becoming Hokage had become less of a priority, a goal that was slowly becoming abandoned. Pursuing Sasuke had become everything to Naruto. And now he could become Hokage with Sasuke by his side, with Sasuke supporting him, being with him.
And yet despite the steady pace, Naruto could see the small falters in his movements, the lack of gracefulness he’d come to define Sasuke with and the tremor that was subtly vibrating through his leg.
Naruto was next to him in an instant, hands outstretched, as if to catch a Sasuke he knew would never allow himself to fall.
Sasuke’s eyes slowly met his. Dark, beautiful. The creepiness of the Rinnegan was something Naruto was less used to, and yet Sasuke’s features allowed it to fit so strangely well. And with the tilt in his eyebrow, the questioning little expression that had smoothed over his friend’s face, Naruto’s mouth easily accompanied the grin that fell upon it, his own eyes curving upwards in the sort of embarrassed, annoying look that Kakashi would give to them so often. Sasuke’s eyes flickered back away from him.
“Why are we stalking in the alleyways?” Naruto asked a little while later,.
Their descent towards the Uchiha compound had stretched on for a while now, causing Naruto to note the route they were taking, the way Sasuke appeared to be focusing his strides on the shadowed parts of the village rather than where it would have been a lot more practical and quicker.
His question caused Sasuke to proceed to fix him with a stare—one less… tingling—that gifted Naruto the inclination to roll his eyes. “What?”
Sasuke’s head shook in a slow, wordless manner, and Naruto could see the air moving in the action, giving way to Sasuke, parting their particles for Sasuke, whose lips parting in what could have been a sigh had noise escaped him.
“Okay,” Naruto exhaled.
A version of his four years ago would have felt aggravation.
It had been four years since the last time he had walked like this with Sasuke, with nothing between them, everything easy and genuine. How could Naruto stay aggravated with that knowledge?
He kept up a vague chatter. And he felt no shift in his heart from that feeling of joy above all, even as Sasuke’s replies involved nothing but facial expressions given for Naruto to decipher, or small little hums that told Naruto that Sasuke wasn’t listening at all. Naruto laughed just thinking about it, which was when Sasuke shot him a look that Naruto interpreted as ‘What the hell’s up with you?’
It wasn’t until they were nearing quite close to the compound did Naruto notice they hadn’t encountered anyone while walking, that Naruto and Sasuke had been orbiting around no one but each other.
The moment Naruto found himself becoming aware of it, the situation changed.
Freckles adorned the face of the little girl, who sat crouched in the shadows, looking as if she was doing something worthy of being reprimanded. She cast one panicked look at the two, and then her eyes widened into something else.
They were almost glowing.
She was staring at him, Naruto realised. And it was this expression—this… this awe… respect, admiration directed towards someone like him, that was the one he would never get used to seeing. After being faced with nothing but anger, hatred, contempt and revulsion as blankets over the faces of the villages, it didn’t feel right for the blankets to just peel off. And yet It felt there was something pushing a piece of his heart back to its original source at each one of those expressions, as if the silent cracks in his heart were being taped over, gently repaired.
“A-a-are you—?” the girl stammered, but before Naruto could answer, there was someone else; a woman who Naruto guessed to be the girl’s mother with the resemblance.
“Miako!” The woman snapped, but Naruto had spent enough time having Sasuke in his life despite those four years of ghosting, to be able to hear the underlying relief present in her voice. “There you are! How could you—”
She stopped talking when her gaze lifted to meet Naruto’s. The tiny being in Naruto’s heart moved to lift up another piece, only for him to stumble and topple it over when the woman’s face of delight turned into that disgust, hatred, revulsion, anger.
“Uchiha.” The words, somehow, escaped her mouth in a hiss, and Naruto’s head moved so quickly his neck cramped, staring at Sasuke who had absolutely nothing as his expression, a face that was blank slate and had Naruto sucking in a breath painful to his lungs. The woman quickly picked up her kid and was striding away before Naruto had registered it. He blinked once. Sasuke’s face didn’t change, he merely began walking again.
Naruto opened his mouth, then closed it, and followed Sasuke. They arrived at the district’s entrance soon after.
Sasuke stared at the place that had once been his home. His home when… not when he was a twelve-year old genin—but when he was seven. When his biggest problem was his father smiling at Itachi one day instead of him, or the frustration of Itachi poking his head as his signature, irritating way to apologise for his inability to play with him. Not when it was scrubbing blood out of floorboards, not when the only thing he could see when his eyes closed was red, rendering him feeling afraid to blink.
“I’ve never been here before,” Naruto stated absently.
Sasuke couldn’t help the small, amused huff that escaped his lips.
“As I would hope.” He closed his mouth quickly after, but Naruto laughed, the sound fluttering over into Sasuke’s ear.
“Oba-san said the reason that it wasn’t destroyed when Nagato attacked was because it’s so far away from the centre.” Naruto kicked a rock that was lying unpurposefully upon the ground. “Since it’s right on the border of the village, it didn’t suffer too much.”
Sasuke glanced at him. He didn’t doubt that Naruto had the knowledge revolving why it was only at the border and it was isolated, away from the rest of the districts in a manner that could be seen by anyone as evidently purposeful, but he didn’t bring it up. He couldn’t—he had to be calm.
He looked through the entrance, thinking back to himself at 13 intently walking through those gates and not looking back. Thinking of Itachi at 13, ordered to kill all of his own clan.
Naruto’s fingers locked around his wrist, feeling the pulse steady beneath them, proof that Sasuke was, truly and physically, there with him.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked,
In reply to what was coating Sasuke’s gaze, Naruto smiled a little before continuing.
“I know that this is where your family lived. And where they…” he paused. Both Kakashi-sensei and Tsunade had sat him down and told him with expressions of suitable graveness that this was the place where Itachi had carried out his orders, that it had been Danzo and the Third’s role, making sure that every Uchiha was in the district that one night with the only exception being Sasuke, so that Itachi wouldn’t miss a single one, so that the lineage that had once lived here would be simply gone. Naruto has been told he needed to think about this, fully internalise it, and Naruto had believed that he had and accepted his role by Sasuke’s side very excitably.
Now, faced with a Sasuke that was so uncharacteristically… docile at his side, the knowledge that he was going to walk into the place where so much blood had been spilt for Konoha and Konoha alone reverberating in his skull, Naruto found himself feeling rather hesitant.
“What’s going to happen if you’re found not with me?” Sasuke asked.
Naruto blinked at him. Sasuke’s words sounded less like a question and more of a statement.
“Uh…”
“I’d go back to being confined.” Those eyes weren’t as sharp as they could be as they stared into Naruto. “Do you want me to go back to being confined?”
“No!” Naruto exclaimed, affronted. Sasuke’s lips twitched, not exactly a smile, but it was the first time he had shown any sign of life since they laid down, side by side, blood weeping from their arms but not preventing the laughter that had lit up Sasuke’s face. Naruto couldn’t help smiling, too, until Sasuke’s wrist was being jerked out of Naruto’s grasp and Sasuke was directing his gaze to the entrance.
“Then let’s go.”
Their was an eeriness definite their slow descent into the compound. Naruto was walking past so many houses, with the simple comprehension that they were all empty, uninhabited, abandoned. And yet once, as everyone had never failed to remind each other back then, back before the clan’s name became a taboo following Sasuke’s deflection, it had been the homes of the members—civillians, women, children, elderly—Konoha’s strongest clan.
Naruto;s throat worked in a swallow, skin prickling uncomfortable. He quickened his pace so he walked directly next to Sasuke.
Suddenly he was remembering that right now his intentions should be towards what Sasuke was feeling. The thoughts that were spinning in Sasuke’s head, the discomfort that was probably gnawing inside his friend. It was Sasuke’s family who had lived here, and Sasuke’s family who’d been taken right in this very place, if what Kakashi, Tsunade and every other adult had said, both back then and now.
Naruto reminded himself of what it felt like to be with his father, the feeling of standing beside him, fighting beside him—the knowledge that this is what he had lost fully settling inside him for the first time, deepening the chronic pain so much further, and then what it had been like to watch the edo-tensei wear off, his father’s figure crumbling as he was lifted away from him, Naruto desperately trying to get him to just come back.
Naruto didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he could calm Sasuke down, make Sasuke feel less of that pain Naruto understood he was currently feeling so much of, so he blabbled. He began telling Sasuke everything that had happened while the other was in jail, from things such as Kakashi’s Hokage ceremony to what he’d had for breakfast one morning (it wasn’t ramen). They reached the main house of the compound—the only one less lonely than the others, where it had been abandoned only 5 years after the rest, its inhabitant returning to it at last—and Naruto was unable to tell whether annoyance was beginning to seize Sasuke’s feelings.
He wasn’t snapping at him to shut up, which once could have been a good sign, but Sasuke was so compliant now with everything that it was so strange for a reason he didn’t even know why.
“What do you think’s going to happen with Obito and Madara?” Was what Naruto finished his babbling with, hoping to invite Sasuke to turn the thoroughly one-sided conversation into something a little more balanced.
Sasuke jerked, as if he hadn’t even realised Naruto was here until then. That was another thing; Sasuke was getting so much more jumpy lately.
“Madara can’t be executed, right? They’ll probably just leave him in prison before he decides he’s going to leave himself.” Sasuke was frowning to himself as he muttered the words out. “I don’t know about Tobi, nor does it matter to me.”
“Why not?” Naruto asked with an arch of his eyebrow. “He’s your family.” Something… violent flickered in Sasuke’s eyes, before it was gone again. It then struck Naruto what it must have felt like to Sasuke for him to say this, right when they were here, the place that Obito, in particular, had killed Sasuke’s family alongside Sasuke’s own brother. “What I mean is!” Naruto quickly backpedalled. “He helped us in the end. He’s the reason we won.”
Sasuke’s response was a sigh, and his refusal into expansion was familiar as well as slightly punchable. The brief expression of violence, too, had been familiar, at least, and Naruto knew that he should be grateful Sasuke wasn’t like this anymore; no longer thought in the anger and rage that everybody could see he was being eaten by, but the fact that it had just faded away so quickly concerned Naruto. He didn’t like thinking about it.
Naruto watched as he walked up the steps, that same tremor causing a shake in his legs, and slowly opened the door of his own house.
Kakashi would tell him he’s overreacting. Sakura would… Sakura was avoiding Sasuke. Naruto had established that, come to the conclusion with a deep sense of grief. But he could also tell the love she felt towards their friend was still lingering, present inside of her in a way accepted wouldn’t be transferred towards himself. He guessed Sakura would like this version of Sasuke, the one that didn’t snap at anything, that stood there listening. Then again, this was Sasuke’s first day out of prison where he’d been enveloped in nothing but silence beyond the few times Naruto would visit him. Yet even then, all of Sasuke’s answers had been silence.
Kakashi was right, Naruto perhaps was overreacting. He hoped that they both could work it out, Sasuke and himself, and Sasuke and Sakura.
He hurried up behind Sasuke, and the two of them entered together. Shamelessly, Naruto’s eyes began to wander. It basked in everything—He’d never been in a place like this, and so it drew him in oddly. The culture was unique, from the decor to the floor to how everything was presented in general, and yet there was a hint of familiarity within it; all of it was a style he’d seen Sasuke, Itachi, Obito and even Madara replicate within one way or another.
Nobody had changed anything since the Uchihahs had lived here, not Sasuke nor anyone else, as if they were allowing the clan their last mark, the only source of their identity left beyond the three people who still carried the blood, one of them more or less being dead, which was something Naruto’s mind still hadn’t exactly processed.
With a glance at Sasuke, Naruyo noticed the sheer stillness of his friend. His eyes, usually so alert, dojutsu that nations would go to war for—another one, hah—present yet dull. He gave the appearance of someone nowhere near the present, unfocused in a way Naruto had scarcely seen on Sasuke in particular. He frowned.
“Sasuke?”
With one blink, Sasuke was normal again. Well, not normal, exactly, but passable to be the boy who Naruto had wanted nothing more than to just be with him in Konoha again. He looked at Naruto and then looked away with a firmly set jaw.
Naruto wanted to ask Sasuke if he was okay, but words were better left in his throat. His voice dying away, he settled on merely watching as Sasuke took his first step forward, and he practically felt Sasuke’s own flashbacks swimming thickly in the air.
This was Sasuke’s moment. A moment for Sasuke and Sasuke alone. Naruto hung back by the door and turned his head away, hoping for a semblance of privacy to be given to the boy. Per Kakashi’s request, when the man had told Naruto of Naruto’s role in Sasuke’s newly free life, he found that he had the responsibility of behaving more carefully.
Kakashi had said Sasuke's state of mind was fragile, vulnerable in a way that had been taken advantage of so many times. He’d said that Naruto was likely the only one who could help him heal. Kakashi had implored for it, actually. Despite how Kakashi-sensei could sometimes act, Naruto was beginning to realise how truly he really cared. The whole situation with Obito acted as an attestment to that.
Naruto sent one small look at Sasuke, who had moved to brush his fingers over one of the walls which was peeking from old wallpaper and paint that had never been renewed, before he looked away again. Sasuke’s words surfaced in his mind—the ones about Obito.
Obito was important to Kakashi-sensei, and he was important to Naruto’s father and mother, to both Minato and Kushina. And he was important to Naruto, too.
And Naruto wanted Obito and Sasuke—the last two Uchiha from this generation—to feel important towards each other in the way he felt towards both of them. He wanted Sasuke to have a family again, the way Naruto was also beginning to have a family.
Uchiha Madara, on the other hand, was a man Naruto was unsure whether he himself could find forgiveness for, let alone Sasuke. Naruto held great admiration towards the First. It was almost… sweet watching the way Lord Hashirama was so careful with Madara, was so sure that he should be allowed a second chance, even though Naruto had been rather openly intruding on quite a personal matter.
Sasuke’s sigh brought Naruto back into the present. He looked back at the other to find that he had turned round, nodding his head towards the space, Naruto quickly following his gaze, before walking down the hall into another room, Naruto quickly at his trail.
“This is mine,” Sasuke’s declaration came with a mumble that had something inside Naruto sinking, a lurch up inside his chest.
“Yeah of course,” he hurriedly said, holding up his hands with an embarrassed grin.
Sasuke nodded absently before he turned away, his back greeting Naruto rather than the purple of the Rinnegan that Naruto could get lost rather dramatically in. The Uchiha Clan crest, old and worn, which gave Naruto the enlightening realisation Sasuke had likely not changed or showered since being imprisoned. How the fuck did he not reek?
Naruto lingered for a moment, until he could see the small tensing of Sasuke’s shoulders and awkwardly coughed, spinning round to find himself a room.