Archive of Our Own

His mind seems to have become his number one antagonist ever since his more... Tangible enemies perished. It's a crude, malicious thing, and hidden behind years of camouflaging his own thoughts, probably doesn't look like it from the point of view of others.

A fight whithin the borders of himself. How poetic, and yet the best way to describe his everlasting dread. Sasuke was never a man of many words. Actions speak louder, and being raised in the ways of his forgone clan, he thinks words are far more dangerous. Picky, nitty little things, so many meanings contained in a single change of tone just make him the more anxious. 

Actions it is, then. Kusanagi strapped at his hips, he stretches his legs out of meditating position, raising to his feet as the Sun fails to rise in cold, miserable weather. For his face and family were cold in their affection, Uchihas are creatures of fire. Even as the light snowflakes settle on his shoulders and head, flames still crackle inside. 

Not even half a year has passed since his twentieth birthday, but as he aimlessly walks through the empty streets of Konoha, he feels much older. Mature and at peace with his past, sure, but a tiredness seems to linger, like he already lived much longer than he should've had. He's almost older than Itachi ever got to be, but his mind seems to never completely accept that. Somewhere in between the lack of emotion he hid in this past few years, he still thinks of himself as the child who left that same village so long ago. He will never stop remembering Itachi as taller, stronger, always a step ahead and keeping him in the dark. Even if they shared roughly the same height the last time he saw his brother alive, Sasuke is now as tall as Madara should've been at his age. He grew his hair, too, but instead of the nice and straight ponytail Itachi kept, his got spikey, thick and long enough to reach his waist. 

The similarities between them keep horrifying him every time he sees his reflection, as if Madara's still chasing. The war is long over. His mind seems to forget that often enough and he has to remind himself he's not running away anymore, he's not in any danger. The war is over, he's alive and as healthy as he could possibly be. Repeating this doesn't make it sound any more realistic, when he's spent most of his twenty years eating tasteless ration bars and sleeping beneath trees, always half awake and alert. 

He was a child when he left, and came back a teenager with a missing arm, but a once missing piece of his soul back in place. Naruto begged him to stay when he opened his eyes in the hospital, after weeks of induced coma so he could heal without trying to bolt. He stayed. He watched the buildings grow and children being born, watched how everyone seemed so eager to return to life before the war. He watched and never said a thing, Naruto always by his side even when he was detained at the Hospital as the council decided what to do with him. Destroyed as he felt, the world around him didn't mimick it. Sometimes, he sorts of wish it did. 

Rebuilt to it's former glory, Konoha is a sight to behold. Perfectly white and crisp snow covers the sidewalks, the canopy of the trees, roofs of civilians houses and shops. Uchihas are creatures of fire, hate and love and every other intense, destructive emotion. Yet, this particular Uchiha, the last one standing as far as he knows, feels an empty, dull and sour... pride. What he fought so hard to demolish still stands, stronger than before, in good and terrible ways. He lost his taste for vengeance long ago, but it will never actually leave him completely. Not when nothing seems to have changed even if he lost everything, gave his all to a cause doomed even before started. Stupid teenager anger aside, he doesn't think his ideas were completely utopic and impossible. He went at it the wrong way, violence craddled him like the mother he lost so early and he accepted the embrace, inflicting his pain on everyone who came his way. 

He lies awake on worse nights, thinks about what would've happened if it worked. If he actually managed to extinguish the Shinobi system. He wonders if, in this branched reality, he would feel happier. 

But he ran away in chase of his goal, tried, failed and came back. Not without putting up a fight, and not happily, but he came back. He's again at the only place he ever cared to think as home. Broken and distastefully corrupted it may be, but still home, because it bears his other half and wherever he goes, Sasuke promised to follow. In exchange, Naruto promised him justice. Not the bloody and gnarly kind of justice seventeen year old Sasuke actually wanted, but enough all the same. Naruto never goes back on his word and he's standing in Konoha exactly because of it. 

His feet take him to the Hokage tower, sandals melting the snow with each step as his chakra heats him up. 

Hunger for power and a single goal led him through most of his childhood, his adolescence, and everything crashed in his hands when he learned the truth. His goal didn't change, only adjusted to the information and even if Sasuke doesn't feel like an avenger no more, hate and hurt and love for his family are still the main reason why he insists in being alive.

That, and Naruto. He's insufferable and would chase him into death just to retrieve him. He's an idiot, too optimistic even if this world hurt him just as much as Sasuke. 

He's an idiot, and even so, Sasuke is his to keep as long as he wants him. Knows he was, and still is, Naruto's own goal. In some twisted, godly way, they belong together, and Naruto is all he has. 

He doesn't bother with the entrance. Sasuke gets to the inside of the tower through one of the many windows, completely sure none of the Anbu guards saw him. Is early enough that Kakashi's nowhere to be found, decidedly fast asleep in the mansion.

Naruto isn't Hokage, and if he knows him as much as he prides himself in, Sasuke doesn't think he'll ever be. He's capacitated to talk about failed childhood dreams, after all. Being Hokage is much more desk work, bows to daimyos and counselors, than the display of strength Naruto desired as a child. It's actually perfect for Kakashi, who always hated field work even if he'll never not be an excellent Shinobi. 

Having his worth proven over and over again, Naruto now sees the position for what it is and knows that he'd be miserable executing it, that he's more fit to diplomacy, even if he used to hate politics. 

Naruto fixes, Sasuke destroys, and they're opposite sides to the same coin. He's words, faith, optimism. Sasuke is actions, his fists and sword speak for him and he never met someone so unfaithful and pessimistic as himself. Even so, he trusts Naruto to fulfill his promises. 

He's packing travel scrolls when Sasuke enters his office. Small and cluttered just as their apartment, stacks of documents overflowing the desk and every other flat surface. Naruto is counting kunais, and they disappear inside the seals he drew on the paper as he keeps count out loud.

Contrary to popular belief, Naruto grew mature as the years went by. He learned his family's craft, took every opportunity to learn seals and anything he could find in the long dead Uzushio or Karin could teach him. There are dozens of scrolls on the ground, everything they'll need for the mission contained within them. Actual brilliant, sharp pride swells his heart. Dead last in their academy years, now Konoha's diplomat, part of the council, war hero and so many other titles.

To him, simply Naruto. 

He knows his presence has been noticed even before he entered the building, but let's him finish counting the kunais before saying anything.

Naruto's bright, golden blonde hair cut so similar to the statue watching over their village that makes it impossible to forget who's son he is. The shapes of his face are rounder than Yondaime's, and Sasuke knows because he never forgets anything. He saw his parents once, and now everytime he looks at Naruto he sees Kushina's round cheeks and kind eyes, Minato's hair, height and colors. Even so, he sees Naruto first of all. His own person, so unique and valuable, powers and deeds aside. Looking at him, Sasuke cherishes the feeling to know he was the first person to actually see him. 

Naruto beams at his presence, smiling hard and achingly beautiful at him the way no one ever has or ever will.

Sasuke is his, and the nasty side of him Naruto still managed to love remembers, egotistical, that Naruto also belongs to him. 

Peace, justice and hate aside, he learned to accept his losses, mourn his dead in silent and be grateful that he will always have Naruto.

And isn't that already so much more than what he deserves.