Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Is it clear?”

“Yes, Danzo-sama,” the kneeling man replies. He has no past, no name, no future.

A pause. 

“Keep one of them alive,” Danzo adds.

Sandaime breathes a name: “Uchiha Itachi”. Exhaustion is laced through and it bleeds into the airless room. 

“No,” Danzo counters evenly. He looks back up, straight at the agent. A new order: “Spare his brother.”

i. 

The blood on the walls is his father’s. The blood that pools around his feet is his mother’s. The blood that splatters across his face is his brother’s. 

A katana slides neatly into his brother’s fallen body again as Itachi dies in wet, staccato breaths. Sasuke’s shrill screams fill the air, joining the chorus of chaos that surrounds the compound. 

The world disintegrates around him, and Sasuke falls to his knees as he swipes frantically at his cheeks. Too much red; everything is tinged one half of the colour on the family crest and it’s all damp and cloying: his home, the bodies of his family, the air. The edges of his vision grow darker, and before he can surrender to the void, a fire ignites behind his eyes. The pain shocks him into silence, sobs dying in his throat. 

He learns here, at eight years old, that pain is a single colour: red of his family’s blood, red for his bloodborne gift. 

“Sasuke-kun.” 

The voice echoes, which is unusual because the Hokage is standing right next to his bed. 

He looks up and the Hokage gives him a soft smile. “You will leave the hospital today.” 

Sasuke sees him, but the figure doesn’t look real. He hears him, but the words don’t stick. They are just shapes and sounds that surround him; it’s a world gutted of meaning, leaving behind nothing but the empty shells of people and words and their meaning. He thinks of the papery exoskeletons of cicadas that Itachi used to place so very carefully on his palm during summertime. 

The pain arrives, twisting someplace deep in his chest. 

“Come with me,” he says, and a figure in a white animal mask steps forward to help him off of the bed. Sasuke stares for a while at the outstretched hand, and no one hurries him. After a few breaths, he takes the helping hand, staring at the mask just like the one his brother slipped on and off. A is for ANBU. 

“Yes, this is ANBU,” the Sandaime says patiently. Sasuke doesn’t even realise the word had slipped past his lips. His throat hurts. 

The ANBU holds onto his shoulder as he takes wobbly steps out of the ward, the Hokage walking slowly in front of them. The corridors are deserted and when they reach the hospital entrance, the Hokage stops and nods at the masked man. 

He drops down onto one knee, bringing an arm behind Sasuke’s knees and sweeps him easily off his feet and into his arms in one, swift motion. 

“Mother. Father. Nii-san,” Sasuke rasps. “Home?” 

“He will take you home, Sasuke-kun” the Hokage tells him. A nod to the masked man and he's turning away. The white haori, emblazoned with red, is the last thing Sasuke sees. 

The next thing he knows knows, they are airborne and the ANBU agent is leaping from tree to tree, headed in the opposite direction of the Uchiha compound. His surroundings are reduced to blurry smudges while the wind is sweet around his face, the man’s arms sturdy and warm. It tightens the pain around his chest.

When he finally stops, they are outside the Hokage Mansion. Slipping inside, they turn a corner, walking straight through a wall that flickers away, and down a winding staircase. A basement awaits, with a narrow corridor that extends further than his eyes can see. The world here is bright, filled with harsh, white lights that drive the shadows to the corners. A few masked figures await them on the right.

Sasuke is let down onto his feet, where he stands unsteadily, swaying. Everyone towers over him in their muted uniforms and eerie masks.

One of the figures takes a step towards him. The voice that fills the silence is toneless: “Welcome home.” Sasuke doesn’t understand, even though it’s the same words his mother greeted him with after long days out at the training ground, when he slipped back home after the Academy. It's the same words, but they don't mean the same thing. 

His new home is one of the many rooms hidden within the ANBU base at the Hokage Mansion.  

Sasuke spends the first three days in bed, only wiping away the tears when the door creaks open to reveal a faceless figure who places a metal tray of food by the foot of his bed. 

The first few times, he begs to go home. “Please take me back to my real home.” 

No one responds. 

Here, there are no windows, mirrors, or clocks. Sasuke knows something is wrong because of the way it hurts to breathe and tears he can’t seem to stop and the nightmares that descend on him leave him shuddering in cold sweat. His mind melts away around the truth whenever he tries to remember what has led him here, like rain on glass.  

On the third day, the figure that comes to bring him his lunch does not leave. “Stop crying. Before you are a child, you are a shinobi.”

“Enough,” another voice says, and the figure bows his head.

“I apologise for speaking out of place.”

A person steps into his room, and the red markings on his hat is the brightest colour he’s seen in days. Red, the Hokage’s colour. His mind tries to swerve, but Sasuke latches onto the smell of thick copper and the screams of the dying and the colour that paints everything he sees. 

Red.

“Sasuke-kun,” Sandaime says. 

The tears spill over and Sasuke looks down as he gasps in breath after breath, fingers digging into his thin blanket. Everything hurts, especially the way his eyes burn, sending the pain shooting straight through him.

“Sasuke.”

He looks up, eyes burning from the tears and his whirring Sharingan. The ANBU quickly steps in front of the Hokage, katana drawn, but he waves him down. 

“It’s time to go.” 

This time, Sasuke doesn’t ask if he can go back home. 

A group of masked figures stand, watching him. 

“Show us your best jutsu,” Sandaime says. His tone is soft, almost encouraging, and jarring in the controlled silence of the area.

He doesn’t even need to think about which one it is. 

The way his hands move into seals are slower than usual, but Sasuke grits his teeth and concentrates on building the chakra into his chest and throat despite the way his heart is steadily beating out of his body. Before the fire, there is always this tension, the sensation of walking on a tightrope with failure far below and complete accomplishment at the end of the endless path. It’s never possible to reach the end of the rope, but Sasuke tries. He tries every single time he has to present it to his father--

As expected, you are my child. 

Sasuke’s mind falters over the memory and he almost gasps aloud. Red bleeds into the corners of his vision; red flames over the water, red stains in the house. Balance on the tightrope is lost. He releases the pressure in one swift exhale, and the heat that explodes from him is enough to melt away all the tension. It’s not the best he’s conjured, but still the fireball illuminates the entire place with a blazing glow that lingers, sending flickering shadows over the pale masks that watch him.

His favourite part of the jutsu is the immediate aftermath of its release. His mind is always rendered spotless and smooth because fire burns clean through inadequacy and anxiety and loneliness, and the deliverance feels even better today. Sasuke sucks in the earth-tinged air, tasting soot. In this, success is never sweet: it’s gritty and bitter on the tongue.

He can’t see any expression behind the masks, but he hopes some of them are smiling, even if it’s just a little bit. 

The Hokage bends down to look Sasuke in the eyes. “You will do well here. The village is your family now, and this is your home.”

Like with every family, there are rules. 

Before I am my father’s son, I am a shinobi.

At the Academy, they practice with kunai and shurikens. First they get used to the weight of the objects in their small hands, before learning how to fight with kunais and wield shurikens. In class, it is expected for someone to cut themselves on the sleek metal - blood is also a lesson on its own. Its rich texture, the smell of it, its inherent value. Draw too much, you win. Lose too much, and you pay its price. 

Here, he’s handed a katana by the woman before him. Her fingers brush his, and they are the same temperature of the room: ice cold. They are standing in a cavernous space, somewhere deep underground, surrounded by smooth rock walls.

Her hair is the colour of steamed sweet potatoes, the same ones sold at the corner of the street, just before you reach the Academy - Itachi bought some for him, sometimes. “Do you have experience in kenjutsu?” 

Sasuke knows the tears are building from the way his throat closes up, so he shakes his head instead.

Then, softer, “Do you have the Sharingan?”

A nod.

“Turn it on,” she says, voice steadying. “You will learn faster.” 

He pauses. She waits for a breath before taking a step towards him. Sasuke stands his ground but concentrates the chakra to his eyes, and it flashes on. The pain that flares is more psychological than physical, and he doesn’t want her to see him cry. 

The katana is too heavy in his hands, and even before he can draw it, he sees her leap in the air, blade lifted. Her sword swings in an unbroken arc around her and Sasuke can follow each point of the katana as it traces the air. It’s like watching a ghost - the Sharingan traces its movements one second in the future, along with its actual trajectory. When her sword halts to a stop, she flies down towards him. Sasuke leaps to the side just as the blade slices the space where his arm used to be. He can feel the air part next to his ear, cheek, shoulder.

He stares at her in muted shock, eyes spinning as fast as his thundering heart.

“As expected from an Uchiha,” she says with a kind smile. It evaporates just as quickly as it appears, and Sasuke thinks he could have imagined it, but it’s not possible because his Sharingan is still on. The moment passes when she slips on her mask and transforms into another faceless figure. She nods at his katana. “Grip the handle firmly but relax your wrist to unsheathe it. You are no longer a child at the Academy or your father’s son. You are now a shinobi of Konoha, trained under ANBU.”

No individual or family is more important than the village.

“Some people are born to serve as ordinary shinobi. B-ranked missions, maybe the occasional A-ranked ones. The rare ones are born to serve the village in the shadows, for a greater good.”

“I’m not good enough—” Sasuke starts, before clamping his mouth shut. It’s not a rule, but no one talks about feelings here, let alone the feelings about that day.

His teacher today does not remove his mask. The figure shakes his head and the harsh light bounces off its smooth surface. “There is a reason you survived the attack on your clan. The village is now your family. This is your destiny.” 

Sasuke looks down, taking in the whites of his blistered palms and the dark marks of scorched fingers. Kenjutsu training and the fireball jutsu. 

“You live to control the Jinchuriki. You live to protect the village.”

His heart trembles. There is a reason everyone else died, except for him. There is a reason for waking up screaming from a nightmare that is an actual memory, a reason for the way he works his body hard enough to forget. He is alive for a reason, not on a whim or by chance: it is for a greater good. Maybe slowly, surely, Sasuke can believe that he was born for this. 

My life is secondary; I will keep the village safe by protecting the Jinchuriki with my blood, my life, my soul.

“There are worse things than dying,” the man opposite him starts. No mask, messy grey hair, one visible eye.  

They are seated across each other, on cold metal chairs with a table in between them. A dozen or more scrolls fill the entire table. Today’s lesson is a lecture.

“I lost the draw, so it’s my turn to teach today. I’m Kakashi,” he smiles, or at least Sasuke thinks he does, because his only eye crinkles into the arc of a rainbow. “Dead or alive, you cannot fall to enemy hands. Your eyes, your blood, your body, even your soul - all of it can be taken and used against you. Edo Tensei is when your corpse is reanimated and used as a pawn. Shiki Fūjin is when your soul is devoured by the Shinigami, trapping you for all eternity within the death god’s stomach.”

Sasuke nods once.

“If you’re injured, caught, or cornered, the easiest way out is using the Body Elimination Technique. You’ll die and your body will be destroyed, but that’s the worst that would happen.” 

“How do I use it?”

“When you’re initiated, you’ll understand.” 

Sasuke nods. He is not ANBU yet, but he will be soon. It is his destiny. 

“We’ll begin with blood.” Kakashi says as he separates a crimson scroll from the rest and unrolls it. Inside, it is marked with five circular seals, and he places his palm in the middle of the first marking. A knife appears in a burst of white smoke. His teacher picks up the knife, its blade thinner than a normal kunai and from the way it glints, with an edge that is much sharper too. He holds it up to an expanse of soft flesh on the inside of Sasuke’s pale arm. “Torture is the most common way for an enemy to get what they want out of you. No matter how much you bleed, you must learn to only say what is necessary.”

The knife whispers as it slides into his skin, and Sasuke sucks in a breath.

“What do you live for?”

“I—“

The knife inches deeper. It catches against something, muscle maybe, and Sasuke bites down hard on his tongue. The pain releases slightly. Breathe, he thinks to himself.

“To protect my village.”

Kakashi retracts the knife. He drops the bloody blade onto the table, where it lands with an echo that rings out in the silence. “A bit too slow, Sasuke,” he says as he passes Sasuke a clean strip of bandage and a circular container of ointment. “Use this and you’ll be as good as new tomorrow. Don’t forget, you also live to protect the Jinchuriki. As the only other person with the Sharingan, you are the only one who has the full power of the Sharingan that can be used to control the Kyuubi’s chakra.” 

The only other person with the Sharingan, Sasuke thinks. Can he already be lightheaded from this? “You...have the Sharingan, too?”

Kakashi raises his headband to reveal a blood-red iris with the same three tomoe that he has. “It’s a long story that is neither here nor there. What you need to remember is no matter what situation you find yourself in, you need to be ready to sacrifice blood, body, or spirit for the Jinchuriki’s safety or to keep it under control. The only thing that comes above him is Konoha’s own safety.”

The tender area around his wound is already starting to bruise. “I understand.”

“Now, shall we move on to other weapons? I’ll tell you more about the Kyuubi as we practice.” 

This is no ordinary lecture. 

This is the Will of Fire. 

Every initiation takes place in front of all existing ANBU personnel present in the village. Today is different, because the Hokage is here too. He stands in the front, a pipe in his mouth, the weight of his gaze on Sasuke.

Four years of a life in the shadows, four years of baptism by fire. Sasuke is twelve. 

A female ANBU member brings a brush to the top of his left arm, tracing fine lines and swirls onto skin as a seal slowly, slowly takes its shape. Questions start to rise murkily in his head, thick as incense, but Sasuke exhales quietly to dispel them. 

Moments later, she finishes and hands the brush over to another ANBU figure by the side. She brings her right palm on top of the circular seal, and, with one deep inhale, taps down hard against the unmarked area of skin.

His body bursts into flames from the inside out. 

The fire courses through him, singeing nerves, boiling blood. It’s a miracle he does not cry out; all he does is blink, once, faster than before. It spreads from his left arm to the tips of his ears, all the way to the back of his heels. The unyielding heat that tears skin from bone lures him to give in, to open up his mouth and scream just so he can fail the initiation and bring this ritual to an end. 

Sasuke can taste ash at the back of his throat, and feel the pinpricks of sweat gathering at the edge of his forehead.

When he thinks he will fall to his knees because he cannot bear it any longer, the flame recedes quickly and curls into an area on top of his left arm. Pain settles into a mild ache; the same feeling one gets when you push the body too hard. 

He turns to look at the mark, and there it is, the signature spiral tattoo of the ANBU. It’s less a tattoo and more a sacred fire branded into its members.

“The Will of Fire is sealed into every ANBU member as a reminder of their duty to the Hokage and the village. Welcome home, Uchiha Sasuke.” 

The night before his only mission begins, the Hokage summons him. This is the first time he armours himself in his full uniform and silence cloaks the both of them as Kakashi escorts him over to the office. He disappears in a puff of white smoke the moment another ANBU figure beckons him to enter. When Sasuke steps into the chamber, he finds that they are not alone. There is another man who stands next to the Hokage, bandages wrapped thickly over his head and eye and standing stiffly in starched white robes. 

Sasuke doesn’t ask.

“Take off your mask, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke does.

The Hokage asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Are you ready?” 

It’s automatic, how his body responds. He drops to his knee. The words that follow come just as easily, like a prayer. “Before I am my father’s son, I am a shinobi. No individual or family is more important than the village. My life is secondary; I will keep the village safe by protecting the Jinchuriki with my blood, my life, my soul.” 

The Hokage turns his head slightly to the left. Next to him, the man’s face remains impassive, but Sasuke has been taught to notice the most subtle differences. The man’s eyes gleam brighter; he is impressed. 

“What does it all mean to you?” the stranger asks him.

This answer is also intuitive. “This is the Will of Fire.”

The Hokage turns back. With an exhale, all he says is, “Good.” 

Sasuke bows his head.

Chapter Text

ii.

All that is left of the mission brief is ash in his palms. Fire is good at keeping secrets.

There was a picture of the Jinchuriki, all messy blonde hair and crystalline eyes and tanned skin. This boy is deadly, prized, and the meaning of his life. The scant data says they are the same age, which would mean they were in the same class in the Academy, but Sasuke can’t be sure.

Many things from his life before ANBU are now murky around their borders, and it’s a good thing. With a mind of smooth glass, the edges of his memories are fragile but safe and dull, leaving the spiral seal on his left arm as the only thing left that aches. Under the sleeve of his shirt, he scratches at the mark lightly.

For this mission, he doesn’t need his uniform. His mask and armour are hidden behind a false compartment in his wardrobe. To blend in with the average shinobi, he’s outfitted with painfully bland clothes: a plain blue shirt with a high collar, nondescript shorts, and deep blue ninja sandals. 

Everything is set to begin at Training Ground Three. 

The mission captain and the Jinchuriki are not here yet, and unquestionable patience is just another skill he’s been trained in. He waits under the bright blue sky, anchored against the cooling breeze, and brings his thumb and second finger together. Focus narrowed on that area of pressure, chakra concentrated in that tiny space, and the point between his fingers ignites easily. Calm floods through bone and muscles as the flame dances mesmerizingly. Fire in his blood, fire is his home, fire as his purpose.

Grass rustles as a figure approaches noisily. “Who are you?” 

Sasuke kills the fire and finds a blonde boy making his way to him, fingers knitted together behind his head as he walks over almost wearily. His garish orange jacket and matching pants are just as loud as his arrival; it’s an assault on the eyes after years of neutral ANBU greys and blacks. 

He looks back at the boy, keeping his expression blank. He stops to stand in front of Sasuke for a moment, a little bit too close, before his eyes grow wide as the recognition flits through. 

“Sasuke?”

“Who are you?” He has a part to play, but this is the truth.

“Don’t act like you’re too cool to know who I am! I’m Uzumaki Naruto, the class’s most popular ninja.”

Sasuke shrugs. “Okay.” His life may be intertwined with the Jinchuriki’s now, but it doesn’t mean he has to like this boy. It wasn’t one of the overt rules he was taught to obey, but it was understood that feelings complicate things: emotions slow you down in situations where a single second can decide the fate of a mission, and attachments make things harder on the battlefield when a comrade needs to be left behind.

The Jinchuriki makes a disgruntled sound and settles down onto the grass. 

He can see the boy glancing over at him from the corner of his eye, and keeps his own stare trained straight ahead. It goes on like this for another few minutes, and Sasuke is almost ready to put them both out of this misery by speaking first when the blonde breaks. Like a cracked dam, the words flood out. “So what happened to you? You disappeared one day and never came back. Kiba said you were kidnapped, but Sakura-chan and Ino said that was impossible…” 

“It’s none of your business.”

Spots of colour splash across his cheeks. “You idiot, I—“

The final member of their party arrives in a flash of smoke. ‘Yo,” Kakashi says, looking deceptively harmless in his standard shinobi wear and a Jonin flak jacket.

If Sasuke looks close enough, he knows he’ll be able to see his own blood on Kakashi’s hands, so he slides his gaze away. Everything here is so bright, almost artificial, and feels two lifetimes too pristine for this world.  

“Who are you?” the Jinchuriki asks for the second time today, leaping to his feet as his attention is now trained on this shiny new person. 

“I’m Kakashi. Traditionally, this is the time where teachers will meet their team, but I am not a teacher and two people do not make a team. I will be babysitting you both for a bit since you both failed the exams and have not been promoted to Genin.”

The Jinchuriki’s mouth drops open.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Kakashi asks innocently. He takes out a notebook from his pouch to flip through the pages. “Uzumaki Naruto, failed for unsatisfactory ninjutsu performance. Uchiha Sasuke, failed for inadequate attendance.”

The blonde collapses back onto the grass, as though suddenly boneless, the expansive disappointment drawing shadows across his features. 

“Not all hope is lost. We might not be a proper team, but the Hokage wants me to assess what you guys can do. The village could still use your skills.” 

“What will you have us do?” Sasuke asks, even though he already knows. 

He reaches for his pouch, and the sweet sound of a bell follows. “Your objective is to capture this bell from me. Don’t hold back - I’m expecting you to attack to kill.”

“But there’s only one bell…” the boy says. 

Kakashi smiles. “Like the only competitions that matter, there’s only one winner. Ready, set, go.”

The last part is directed at Sasuke.

He doesn’t need a reminder; Sasuke turns to the boy. “Uzumaki Naruto,” he says, testing the name on his tongue and when the boy turns to him, it’s done: the Sharingan whirls red and the next thing he knows, he’s inside a strange new world where water laps at his feet. There’s nothing in this chamber except thick bars that extend higher than his eyes can see. 

Inside, a demonic presence stirs. 

“You are new,” a voice booms as Sasuke takes a step closer. An amber eye flashes open. The bloodlust that fills the room is solid and suffocating. “What do you want, boy?”

Sasuke’s eyes never leave the beast and it’s effortless - the power in the depths of its gaze is hypnotic. He doesn’t respond. A claw the side of a boulder shoots out from between the bars but still Sasuke does not move. His destiny is in the unholy eyes that he commands; manifested in the control he wields over the malevolence that builds on the other side of the bars.

Stop, Kyuubi. I am not here to hurt you.

Its nail stops an inch before Sasuke’s perspiring forehead as the Kyuubi’s eyes grow cloudy. It’s just the heat of this place, he tells himself, not because casting a genjutsu on a thousand year old spirit to control its chakra is harder than he expects. 

Good.

Sasuke takes a measured step back and the genjutsu breaks like a popping bubble.  

“Disgusting Uchiha,” the Kyuubi spits.

“Just wanted to say hi.” 

The Kyuubi roars as Sasuke takes his leave. It singes the back of his neck. Rage taints the air, rattling the bars and churning water and leaving the taste of iron coating his mouth.

The Jinchuriki’s own eyes are still unfocused as Sasuke drags himself out of his consciousness. Kakashi looks at him pointedly, and Sasuke gives him a quick nod. When Kakashi turns away, he wipes away the cold sweat off his forehead.

“Hey!” he calls out to the boy. “Quit daydreaming.” 

The blonde snaps back slowly. 

“Before you get to the bell, you have to get through me,” Sasuke says, moving onto the second part of his task. Now it’s time to see what the boy, not the monster within, can do.

He lunges at Sasuke, all brute power and zero finesse. He catches the boy’s fists easy and deflects with open palms as they dance around the grass, under the cloudless sky. 

“Only taijutsu, huh?” Sasuke asks. He’s worlds better than the boy, but without the comforting weight of his blade in his hand, Sasuke feels incomplete. 

“I don’t see anything so special about you.”

In response, Sasuke somersaults away from him and brings his hands through a quick series of seals. Tension builds in his body as chakra spins into a concentrated ball, centred in his chest. A fireball erupts from his mouth in one great swoop, a temporary sun, burning away the pressure inside him and raining down on the Jinchuriki. 

The boy dodges, and Sasuke can hear his laughter. It’s not malicious or taunting - this is pure amazement. “Showoff. But that is pretty cool!”

“Do you have anything to impress me with?” Sasuke replies, racing towards him as the boy jumps away deftly and up a branch. At least his reflexes are passable.

“You heard what he said. I don’t know ninjutsu,” he says, blue eyes staring down at Sasuke. It’s like looking up at two different skies. “It’s hard to get good at something if you weren’t allowed to do it with the rest of class. Mizuki-sensei and the other parents were scared that the Ky— err my chakra would be too hard to control, so there was a rule where I couldn’t practice ninjutsu with the rest.”

“Why would you even go to the Academy if you weren’t allowed to practice ninjutsu?”

“Where else would I go?” he replies. His bright tone doesn’t change even though something in his eyes dims, rain clouds shifting across the sky. “At the Academy I had friends and lunch every day! It’s not ramen, but—”

Sasuke runs up the tree and the boy launches himself at him because he is here to gauge the Jinchuriki’s strength, not share heart-to-heart sessions. The collision steals the wind from his lungs as they fall to the ground, rolling around like schoolboys - which, technically, is exactly what the boy is.

From the corner of his eye, in between the chaos, Sasuke can see Kakashi standing at the edge of the training field, nose buried in a book. Naruto’s own eyes follow instantly, and just like that, both of them are pushing themselves upright and flying at the ANBU captain. Two boys, one mind, all sharp elbows jutting out and feet struggling to stay upright.

The Jinchuriki makes the first move, which Kakashi blocks easily, still engrossed in his book. Sasuke crouches down low, leg extended to sweep Kakashi off his feet. Dodged. 

“Ahhh!” the boy yells as he appears behind Kakashi and for a heartbeat, it’s as though both of them are stunned, not by genjutsu, but by sheer volume and brashness and colour . A second is all a shinobi needs, because his arms wrap around Kakashi’s neck, pulling them both backwards and down. What the boy says next surprises Sasuke even more, and even Kakashi’s eye widens slightly. “Don’t just stand there, you bastard! Take it!”

Before the boy finishes his sentence, the bell is already ringing melodically between Sasuke’s fingers.

“Heh, you couldn’t have done that without me! This is what they call teamwork, right?” He loosens his grip around Kakashi’s neck and drops heavily to his feet. He stumbles. 

For a loser, his smile is too warm; a fraction of the heat of the Kyuubi but the hold of his gaze is just as powerful.

A week after the bell test, Kakashi informs them that because of their ‘exemplary teamwork’, they’re part of a two-man cell that will operate exclusively within the village, and that they need no more Jonin supervision. The Jinchuriki’s eyes almost roll out of his head in excitement.

As they take on menial labour disguised as basic missions, the boy peppers him with endless questions, voice radiating with the energy of a thousand suns. Where were you for so long? , to Do you have any siblings? , and What is your favourite ramen flavour? . 

I’m an orphan , is the only information Sasuke volunteers and the boy nods in solemn understanding. He then smiles, marching Sasuke to his place and handing him a cup of instant ramen. 

I don’t need your pity, Sasuke thinks but he accepts the offering anyway because he doesn’t think he can get a word in, not when the Jinchuriki lights up and dissolves into a one-sided conversation about the best ramen flavours, which ones he should definitely get and which are to be avoided at all costs.

There are things Sasuke learns about the boy; details never listed in the mission brief. 

He is housed in the unit right next to the boy’s apartment, in village-owned quarters. It’s easier to spy from peepholes hidden throughout different parts of their shared wall instead of loitering on the roof or in trees, and it helps that the walls are paper thin so he gets both visual and audible surveillance. 

As he expects, the apartment is messy - clothes strewn all over the floor, ninja weapons spread on the table, sink cluttered. What surprises him is that the Jinchuriki apparently collects cacti, small spiky things that are arranged haphazardly on window ledges and above cupboards. They actually look healthy .

Another is in the way he walks: his steps are wide, upper body moving in exaggerated lines. Interesting, Sasuke thinks, but dumb. It’s as though he wants to take up as much space as possible, which is the opposite thing any decent shinobi is trained to do.  

The other thing is the way people shift themselves in response to him, their shoulders closing in and their backs turning to face him, as they make their way down the pathway. Sasuke spends much of his time together with him whenever possible, walking two steps behind, something that the boy is unusually excited about, even though he tries - and fails - to hide it. The exclusion is subtle, but when an entire street of people do the same thing, it’s not hard to notice. Some of them look their age, and it could be entirely possible that these are Naruto’s classmates. Were. No one stops what they’re doing, but their eyes harden as the emotions within are shuttered away. 

When Sasuke trails the boy, ANBU-style and completely hidden, there are jeers that are too loud to be ignored, but too soft to make a scene. Fox monster , demon child .

The Jinchuriki sets his mouth into a hard line and ignores them, but when he slinks back home, he pulls out a straw-man-turned-punching-bag from under the bed and thwacks it for hours. 

He only eats instant ramen at home; in the last week of the month, he has to stretch one cup for both breakfast and dinner. Sasuke’s own allowance from the village is scant, but at least he has the budget and common sense to add fresh tomatoes and green vegetables to his diet. Naruto has never gone to the fridge other than to pull out a variety of colourful sauces as his ramen cooks, and cartons of milk after his ramen is finished.

He never receives any visitors; no friends, no caretakers. 

Like all his other nights, Sasuke eats his dinner staring at the boy who slurps at a cup of instant ramen, his own eyes trained at the empty wall in front of him. Tonight, Sasuke is tucking into the cup of instant ramen that Naruto had given him, an item he didn’t know was so precious to his neighbour until now. It’s too hot and too salty and too...much, just like Naruto. 

After dinner, when his neighbour’s apartment is filled with mindless chatter from the radio that will be replaced by noisy snoring, Sasuke drafts his weekly report to his ANBU captain in careful code. He writes about the Jinchuriki, even though somewhere along the first two months of his mission, at some unknown point of time, the Jinchuriki has become Naruto .

They train every other day at the furthest training ground from the village centre, with Kakashi watching hidden atop some branches.

He tells Naruto this is sparring, but it’s really practice for Sasuke and the Kyuubi. 

A flash of the Sharingan and he crawls inside Naruto’s consciousness, where the monster awaits with bared teeth and bloodlust so strong that the surface of his skin trembles. 

“You again,” it hisses.

“I need to borrow your chakra,” Sasuke says, looking straight into his eyes and before the Kyuubi can snarl at him again, his eyes flash red, tomoe spinning rhythmically. 

Sasuke pulls his focus out of Naruto and back to the present, where the red chakra he is drawing from the Kyuubi bubbles over and coats Naruto’s shaking body. His Sharingan cannot control the Kyuubi in a literal sense; his eyes give him the ability to draw out the Kyuubi’s chakra and manifest it through the Jinchuriki’s body, like a vessel, or suppress it behind its expansive cage and back into the Kyuubi. 

There is nothing quite like the chakra of a tailed beast: it’s bloodlust and something heavy in the air that physically weighs you down, sending warning signals all over the body. The tails start appearing from Naruto’s body like retracted blades, one, two, then three. When he sees the fourth try to break through, Sasuke centres all his control into Naruto’s eyes that reflect his own Sharingan.

Somewhere in the trees, Kakashi watches; like a good captain, he is always assessing these trainings. 

The fourth chakra tail breaks through, but something is different this time. Devastating chakra starts to eat away at Naruto’s skin, revealing nothing but the solid dark red mass of the Kyuubi’s consciousness behind. This awareness begins to taint the air, sharpening the wind with malice. Naruto is no longer a boy: he is all demon fox, pointed ears and sharp teeth and four untamed tails.

The Kyuubi is fighting for control over Naruto’s body.

Sasuke can feel his hold slipping as one of its eyes shift from the Sharingan into a startling whiteness, throbbing with raw power. Inside Naruto’s consciousness, the Kyuubi is asserting its own control.

The form moves at him, faster than Sasuke expects. He gives up trying to force his way back inside Naruto’s mind and jumps away easily from the trajectory of its claw instead, but a tip of one of the tails grazes his right arm, leaving behind a corrosive burn that steals his breath away. Invisible red hot needles have been shoved under the surface of skin, stabbing to the same beat as his heart. 

The Kyuubi roars, bitterness heating the air enough to make his eyes water, and sweeps its paws and tails around, levelling the trees that surround them. Sasuke swears under his breath. He brings his hands into seals and sends a massive fireball hurling towards the Kyuubi, who digs its paws deeper into the ground as though it is putty, tails fanning around itself to swat his jutsu away lazily.

A shadow clone closes in from its side. The Kyuubi crushes it with grace. Sasuke uses this distraction to launch his consciousness inside Naruto’s head and it works; he falls inside and lands roughly on the hard ground, where the water at his feet is boiling and something in the air makes the burn on his arm hurt even more.

“Enough,” he says and the Kyuubi’s eyes twitch. It’s still under his spell but barely, tails thrashing around in frantical arcs. He concentrates more and more chakra into his eyes until his vision starts to destabilise but he can’t falter here, not when he still has chakra to pull from the outside back in. “Enough!”

Something taut in the air snaps; the Kyuubi’s tails fall onto the ground with a thundering splash. 

Somewhere far away, on the outside, he can feel the Kyuubi’s chakra dissipate 

quickly.

Sasuke falls to his knees and swears again. Without wasting any more time catching his breath, he pushes himself up and releases the genjutsu. The shift of energy in the air is instantaneous, leaving a deep rumble in his chest as the Kyuubi awakens. Sasuke runs. 

Naruto is lying on the grass, huge patches of his skin all across his body burnt away. Sasuke finds himself on his knees again, next to him, breathing heavily. The world swims across his eyes. Kakashi appears almost instantly. 

“Three tails is the limit, huh.”

“For now, yes.” His vision is beginning to bring the world into sharper focus.

“Now you understand why the Academy was told not to allow Naruto to use his chakra.” 

“Na— The Jinchuriki needs to be hospitalised.” 

Kakashi shakes his head slowly. “Too dangerous.” 

“But—”

“The Kyuubi chakra heals the Jinchuriki extremely effectively. He’ll stay at home. If he requires any further medical attention, there’s a hospital-grade medical kit in your apartment. We are leaving before anyone sees us here.” 

It’s an order, not a suggestion. Kakashi picks Naruto up gingerly as Sasuke rises to his feet.  

While his captain adjusts a limp body across his back, Sasuke glances around. The ground is ruined, riddled with craters and broken trees and the stench of burnt iron. This is just a fraction of the Kyuubi’s power; an untapped well of intense power festers inside, its depths terrifyingly deep, held at bay by a mere human boy. 

As his patient sleeps, Sasuke sits next to the bed and prods at his arm. Tender heat rolls through the area like waves.

Naruto’s head and body is wrapped with bandages, strips that Sasuke had wound tenaciously upon skin, layer by thin layer, because this is something they never learnt at ANBU. He tells himself all this is because he has been trained to take care of Konoha’s most precious military weapon at all cost, but there’s a softer part of him that rings with ache as his eyes sweep over an expanse of raw flesh. 

He pokes again at the place where the Kyuubi’s chakra bit into him, and lets his mind wander. A reluctant nurse and his patient. There’s this low burn of inadequacy that only someone who is woefully unprepared for a situation can understand - he was trained to kill, destined to protect. There was nothing about what it is like to heal, how to feel when they lie powerless before you. In ANBU, there was no need to learn medical ninjutsu; treating a fallen comrade is a waste of resources and opens others to capture. They know that there are always, always worse things than death. 

No individual or family is more important than the village.

“Sasuke?”

He jolts, dropping his arm and all the threads of his thoughts. The way Naruto looks at him is not what he expects: instead of the grim line of his mouth and eyes that burn with anger, he’s met with softness and vulnerability. Sasuke wonders if he has a fever.

“Dobe,” he says as a greeting, reaching out to place a palm onto his forehead. 

Naruto fidgets but keeps silent. His temperature is higher than normal, and it’s probably just the Kyuubi chakra. Naruto switches to a glare, looking like an angry mummy. “What happened?”

Sasuke withdraws his hand. “You got caught in my fireball. You’ve been out for a day,” he says. A shrug. “I guess I didn’t know my own strength.”

“I want a rematch,” Naruto yells next to his face, almost blowing out an eardrum, vitality and volume completely restored. “Right now!”

“Stop being ridiculous—” Sasuke starts, but Naruto pushes away his hands and sits up to unwrap the bandages. They fall off his head and body like a discarded cocoon, revealing spotless skin and a healthy glow. 

“See! I’m as good as new.”  

“Have you ever been to a hospital before?” Sasuke doesn’t even know why he asks.

“Nah, never had the chance to, never needed to. Am I missing out on something…?” 

“...No,” Sasuke replies flatly. He changes the subject swiftly, before Naruto can catch on. “You’re all better, which means I can leave.”

“You were here the whole time?”

“Unfortunately.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Stay for dinner?” Naruto blurts out, before turning a shade pinker. He looks just as surprised as Sasuke knows he must also look. 

He opens his mouth to turn down the invitation, but keeping an eye on a newly conscious Naruto will be a lot easier in the same room instead of watching from a tiny hole drilled into plaster. Naruto looks at him from the corner of his eye, face turned towards the window. The way he hugs his arms close to his body is half hoping, half daring Sasuke to turn him down.

“I won’t eat instant ramen,” Sasuke retorts finally.

“Fine! I’ll even cook, you demanding bastard.”

“What do you know how to make?”

“No idea,” Naruto says too happily as he bounces off the bed, better than new. “I’ve never made anything other than instant ramen before.”

Sasuke doesn’t bother biting back a sigh. 

Today, they’re tasked with their first assignment since the incident with the four tails form. They’re repainting part of the Academy and Naruto has white streaks on his nose, across his cheeks. 

“Hey hey, we’re friends, right?”

You are my life’s purpose.

“Hn,” he replies.

It makes Sasuke think that Naruto is already both.

The first time Naruto runs away, Sasuke is on the cusp of turning thirteen. 

The moon is still hanging bright in the sky when Sasuke jolts awake. The air is cold, but there is no draft and the window next to his bed is closed. It takes another breath to realise the icy edge in the air is because the usual presence of Naruto’s chakra, fiery and sharp like forest fires, is gone.

He’s flying out the window with his katana before he can formulate another thought. 

Just beyond the village’s gates and racing just below the canopy of the trees, Naruto flickers into view. Unfortunately for him, orange stands out brilliantly, even in the dead of night. Sasuke sneaks up to him, close enough that he can see the whiskered markings on his cheeks, and tackles him down. Naruto is too stunned to even make a sound and just below they hit the ground, Sasuke shifts so Naruto is on top. He braces for impact, but it doesn’t stop the wind from being stolen from his lungs when the idiot lands right across his ribs. 

“Sasuke!” he says, surprised. “Are you okay?”

“Usuratonkachi,” Sasuke grunts. 

Naruto is anointed by moonlight, and his silver hair, face, and eyes make him look like a different person. His shoulders, too, are looser. He looks like a boy, not even a shinobi, and definitely not a Jinchuriki. “That’s a fancy blade.”

“I’ll use it on you if you don’t get off me right now” Sasuke replies with difficulty. 

Naruto scrambles onto his feet. “Whoa, you know how to use a sword?”

Sasuke ignores him as he wills oxygen back into his deflated lungs. He rasps, “Why are you running away from the village?” 

“Hey, that’s my line! Why are you running away from the village?”

For a second, Sasuke’s fingers physically itch for his blade. “I’m not the one running away!” Pushing himself upright, he pokes gingerly at his ribs. They might be bruised but at least they’re not broken. 

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Bringing back the deserter. I was on the roof, couldn’t sleep, and I saw you running.”

“I wasn’t running away from the village.”

“The village,” Sasuke says, pointing to the direction behind them, “is that way. You were running. At least try harder to come up with a better excuse.”

Silence wells up around them before Naruto chuckles. “I just wanted to get out for a bit. Staying in there is suff— ah, you won’t get it.”

Except Sasuke does. It’s suffocating, the responsibility and sheer weight of the village and all its hopes and dreams, heaped onto their shoulders and conscience and futures. Naruto can never leave the village because of who he is, and Sasuke can’t either because of who Naruto is.

“Do you ever think about running away?” Naruto asks instead.

“No,” Sasuke answers honestly. This is his first time beyond the borders of the towering walls. He looks around and the forest is illuminated by silver light: magnificent trees in every direction, stretching in endless whorls and loops. A strange thought blooms in his mind - if he runs fast enough, far enough, he can end up in a different world. 

“Not my fault you never had any imagination.”

Sasuke turns back calmly, eyes dark as he filters away his wandering thoughts and the peculiar emotions. “We’re heading back.” 

“Can I stay? Just for a bit more? I promise I’ll go right back after this.”

“It’s not safe now that we’re no longer within Konoha’s borders. Do you really think we’re alone out here?”

Any moment and ANBU would be alerted, if they aren’t already darting over. 

The realisation catches in Naruto’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to either argue using thick-headed will or to plead his case once more.

“If you follow me back now, I’ll teach you ninjutsu.” 

His open mouth morphs into a wide grin. “Really?” His excitement echoes off the tree trunks.

Sasuke stands to grab his wrist. In the cool night, his skin is a bonfire. It really isn’t safe here for any individual, let alone for people like them. “You should know better than this. You’re a shinobi, not a kid. Let’s go. Now .” 

Before you are a child, you are a shinobi. 

The frustration builds, eating into a soft spot at the centre of his chest. This is their duty. 

Naruto must catch the hard glint in his voice, because he concedes with a nod. He trains his gaze on the trees, speaking to the darkness instead. “Fine.”

They race back to the gates with Naruto in front, Sasuke at the rear, the glow of the Sharingan darting around them. Nothing moves in the quiet night except for them, not even the wind, but a slippery sense of disquiet still lingers even after they make it back into the village, back when Sasuke leaves Naruto outside his apartment. 

“Uh, so thanks,” Naruto says, scratching the back of his head. “For...coming after me. Even though I totally didn’t need your help and your nagging was annoying.”

“Do it again and I’ll slice you up with my ‘fancy blade’.”

Naruto grins, bringing a clenched fist in front of Sasuke’s face. “I‘ll like to see you try!”

Sasuke shoves him towards the front door. “Go to sleep.”

Ambling into the apartment and a goodnight! thrown across his shoulder, Naruto pulls the door close behind him with a solid thud. 

“Lock your door!” Sasuke says, banging twice on the flimsy wood. There’s no response.

Loneliness, he finds out now, is cloying. Sasuke is left in the empty corridor with nothing but his thoughts and Naruto’s loneliness sticking to his skin, rich and alive. He was telling the truth; he wasn’t running away from the village. He just wanted someone to think he was.

The unease lingers when he leaves the building to run a lazy loop around the area, just to make sure he doesn’t blow his cover. It’s still there when he returns to his apartment and watches through the wall as Naruto rolls around in bed, the simple happiness of Sasuke’s promise pulling at his lips.  

Alone, Sasuke cradles a small flame he has brought to life, ignoring the unrolled scroll and inked brush for the report he knows he needs to draft. As he stares at the flickering light, the pressure inside him dissipates with a hiss of relief and the thing in his chest lets up a little, yet the strange blanket of discomfort remains. 

He thinks about the village’s chakra weapon, his neighbour, his friend. Irreplaceable but ignored. Feared but ridiculed. 

Important to the people and its village, but not important enough as a person.

His eyes blink open to Rabbit staring at him through the window.

The light is milky smooth; it’s barely dawn.

“You’ve been summoned. He will meet you at the cemetery,” he says as Sasuke opens the glass slider with his right hand and lowers down the katana with his left. He vanishes noiselessly and Sasuke flops back down onto the bed with a heavy exhale. 

Kakashi waits for him at the sculpture of the Will of Fire, where both of them meet in inconspicuous clothing. Sasuke keeps his gaze lowered as he approaches the solitary man, and bows his head when he stops by the sculpture. He looks at the cracked stone ground to await his punishment.

“How are your babysitting duties coming along?”

“Everything is under control.” 

“It seems to be, though I was told it wasn’t last night.”

“A temporary disruption.” 

“...Sometimes I forget you’re only twelve.”

Sasuke’s spine stiffens. A reprimand is expected, but sympathy is worse. He makes sure to flatten all emotion from the skeleton of his words as he says, “I am not a child.”

“No, but you have never seen battle. You’ve never seen how one simple mistake can go so very wrong.”

Sasuke stays silent.

“Nonetheless I still trust you, Uchiha. Don’t let us down again.”

He looks up and Kakashi is staring at the spiral lines of the sculpture. His tattoo itches. They are always surrounded by fire.

“Thank you, Captain.” 

A lazy wave of the hand tells him he is dismissed.

Naruto doesn’t get up until almost noon, so Sasuke runs to an empty training ground to scratch the itch beneath his skin that can never seem to be satiated. Nothing is more important now than burning through chakra and creating fire out of nothing until his mind is blank.

“I’m going to teach you the Kage Bunshin technique today.” 

Naruto doesn’t look very impressed.

“It’s a forbidden jutsu,” Sasuke adds. 

He brightens instantly, almost comically, but his expression shifts into suspicion as he narrows his eyes at Sasuke. “How do you know a forbidden jutsu?”

Perhaps he could have thought through things better.

“That’s not the point,” Sasuke replies coolly. “Look, do you want to learn it or not.”

“Yes!” Naruto answers easily, all qualms completely wiped off his face. In its place, he sees eyes that sparkle with mischief, but there’s more than that. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen this in someone else’s eyes: trust, in its purest, most perfect form. “I’ll be your best student. Teach me, Sasuke- sensei .” 

Naruto guffaws at the way he chokes, and Sasuke responds by making a doppelganger pop up to chase the idiot around the training field - all just a lesson in practical application, of course.

Chapter Text

iii.

Naruto’s fifteenth birthday is spent at Ichiraku.

“Konoha’s best ramen with my best friend - this is the best birthday!”

He says this every year, but the ‘best friend’ thing is new. 

“I’m your only friend.”

Naruto waves his chopsticks around. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not so popular yourself, are you?”

Sasuke expects the words to sting, but they don’t. “Whatever, moron.”

“I’m gonna order another two bowls. The bill’s on you, yeah? This can be my birthday present from you.”

Sasuke scoffs. “I’m not paying for your food. Your present’s at home.” 

Naruto stops chewing. The rest of their time spent at Ichiraku is a whirlwind of Naruto’s shouting: his disbelief at Sasuke, two bowls of takeaway please, directed at Ayame, the moans of spending the rest of his precious allowance on this one meal. 

They leave with a bag of ramen in one of Naruto’s hands, Sasuke’s wrist in his other.

The present is placed neatly in front of Naruto’s door, a square box wrapped in simple blue paper. Without any grace, Naruto rips open the wrapping right in the corridor as Sasuke pushes open the unlocked front door to let them both in.

“Lock your door, dobe.”

He doesn’t know why he bothers because the advice has been falling on deaf ears for years. Happiness trails in behind him, holding a pot that houses a small, bulbous plant that’s covered with fine needles. “Wow, how do you know I collect these?”

“I have eyes. I am a shinobi. We are supposed to notice things.” 

Sasuke expects a heated retort, but all he receives is an honest smile. No misgivings, no questions, just pure contentment. “Thanks, Sasuke.”

He supposes they are best friends even though a voice at the back of his mind tells him Naruto will always be more than just his one and only friend - he is a duty.

Over the years, some things change:

Naruto is taller and his chakra control improves by leaps and bounds. 

Sasuke spends some nights sleeping on a futon at Naruto’s place, a tactic encouraged by the ANBU and a routine he strangely doesn’t mind either. The air within four walls is warmer with Naruto’s affable voice bouncing between them, and sleep comes quietly with a slumbering person in the same room.

Other things don’t, like how Naruto talks too loudly and too much and the insatiable rush to play with fire and that lingering sense of discomfort he picks up that time Naruto runs away, which still returns in tides and currents. He understands now that threats don’t only come from the outside. 

There’s a reason the only place that Naruto dines at is Ichiraku, because it’s the only establishment that serves him without apathetic excuses about being too full or not having enough ingredients left. There’s a reason why he lives a double life, the spiral mark carved into his skin itching in a way that only subsides when he throws as many empty scrolls as he can find into his kitchen sink and sets them alight. A reason why the only thing he hears in his head, when he’s alone and the world is dark, is not the gentle lilt of his mother’s laughter or his brother’s soft chiding or his father’s stoic advice. It’s a single phrase: This is the Will of Fire. 

Something is tainted within Kohona’s own walls.

They arrive on a Tuesday.

It’s evening, and Naruto has dragged him to the top of the giant stone heads. Above, the sky is swirled purple and gold while endless colourful rooftops dot the landscape below Naruto’s swinging feet.

Sasuke’s eyes close involuntarily to soak in the tranquility, as though some deeper part of him knows this won’t last, because the next thing he sees when his eyes blink open is coiling black smoke. 

Then, the screams begin. 

He swears as his hand automatically finds Naruto’s arm, dragging him behind his own body. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he can hear Naruto’s frantic questions. There has always been only one strategy, a single battle plan for when Konoha finds herself under siege.

The Kyuubi is the first line of attack. 

In the distance, he can see dark shapes advancing towards them. Whether it’s ANBU or the enemy, Sasuke doesn’t wait to find out.

He turns back to Naruto and the full brunt of his questions assault him.

“—ke, what the hell are you trying to do, break my arm? Why are we still standing here we have to find out what’s going on—”

“Naruto,” Sasuke says, the emotion ironed out from his voice and instantly, Naruto falls silent. “You have to trust me.”

Naruto doesn’t even speak; he just nods. 

Sasuke draws out a scroll from his pouch to retrieve his katana with a puff of smoke. He kicks the empty scroll away as the weight of the handle settles comfortingly into his grip.

His Sharingan flickers awake. 

“Let’s go,” he breathes, and he’s not sure who he wants the words directed to: himself, Naruto, the Kyuubi, or all three of them. His fingers loosen around Naruto’s arm as he draws the red, pulsating chakra out from the Kyuubi as it consumes Naruto. One tail, then the second and the third. His mouth is paper-dry, but the words come out stronger this time. “Let’s go.”

The Kyuubi locks its eyes on him and Sasuke doesn’t break eye contact as he walks backwards, not until he walks off the stone head and falls into the chaos below. The Kyuubi follows with a deep roar. 

Sasuke lands on his feet and reorients himself quickly. The intruders are a few cells from Kiri, and Sasuke finds them skirmishing with the village’s Jonin and ANBU on the ground. The Kyuubi arrives at the scene with a fearsome crash, framed by burning buildings and falling ash. The moment ANBU catch sight of him and Naruto, they melt away into the surrounding buildings while the Jonin are quick to follow on their heels to retreat. 

Sasuke moves to higher ground, leaving the Kyuubi in the middle of the battle. It’s distracted now by flashier jutsu and quicker movements. He watches as the enemy fly towards the Kyuubi, before getting cut down by his paws and tails. Around them, civilians are being herded away and Sasuke leaps back down to distract the Kyuubi and lead it in the opposite direction.

It works, because a few more shinobi appear around them, jumping out into the open to attack at the Kyuubi. Sasuke disappears swiftly to higher ground. They aim water jutsus at it, but nothing works until one of them sends a fine mist into the air, concealing the entire area as visibility disappears under a thick, grey blanket. 

This is nothing but a weak diversion for his eyes, and he can make out a team of five rushing towards the Kyuubi under the cover of the mist, with what appears to be patterned paper in their hands. Shit , Sasuke thinks and without a second thought, he leaps off his vantage point, katana drawn.

This is a sealing team. 

They are too absorbed in cornering the Kyuubi that they don’t notice Sasuke’s fireball. A ball of fire rains down as he catches two of them with this element of surprise and a fluid spin of the wrist. His katana goes straight through their bodies, as easily as an exhale. The Kyuubi is set in a defensive position, tails fanning around its body, and Sasuke knows this defense won’t last long, not when the enemy is able to inch closer and closer.  

Suddenly, Naruto’s body jerks violently and a familiar stain bleeds into the air.  The Kyuubi’s chakra is changing as a fourth and fifth tail breaks through and the leader of the group, a man with dark hair and an eye patch, falls back. It begins: Naruto’s skin burns off, leaving behind a raw, red chakra. 

Sasuke can’t breathe, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the building heat in the air or his panic. The other three Kiri-nin fall back even further as the Kyuubi roars, almost knocking him off his feet. It takes all his willpower not to close his eyes as a ferocious power thrums through the air.

Stop , Sasuke thinks as he tries to rein in power, but the Kyuubi’s chakra is no longer under his control. Blank, white eyes made of pure power survey the figures that surround it - there is no more friend or foe. To the Kyuubi, they are one of the same. 

As ANBU, they learn that the village will not fall if the enemy takes over. It falls when they lose control of the Jinchuriki. 

He is too busy staring at the Kyuubi and its six tails that he doesn’t notice the figure come up from behind him until a second before he strikes - a fatal mistake. A tail rushes straight at him, and Sasuke hits the ground and rolls to the left, only to hit the side of a building. There is no more space left to move. He can only watch as the tail evades him to pierce the shinobi instead. It slides straight into his chest and instantly, angry chakra melts away at skin and muscle and bone as his guttural scream rings out. Sasuke pushes himself away from the tail as he watches the body disintegrate, until there’s nothing left but a headband that hits the ground with a muted clang. 

In front of him, another Kiri-nin turns to meet his eyes. In this quiet moment suspended within the chaos, the man understands exactly what Sasuke realises: the Kyuubi is protecting him.

The other tails make quick work of the rest of the intruders, piercing them effortlessly as earth-shaking roars and piercing screams fill the air. Sasuke doesn’t waste a second; when the man looks away, distracted, he body flickers at him. A flash of red and the downward spiral of a blade is the last thing he sees.

As the last Kiri shinobi falls, Sasuke tries entering Naruto’s mind again. The resistance is still there, keeping him out. Please , Sasuke pleads blindly. If you can hear me, please stop . It’s over. It’s futile; he doesn’t know who he’s praying to.

This monstrous Kyuubi pauses, almost as though it understands. As Sasuke watches in mute shock, one tail after another recedes slowly. As the fourth tail disappears, the subconscious barrier disappears and the next thing he knows, he’s falling into the darkness of Naruto’s consciousness. He lands face-first with a splash of tepid water.

The first thing that swims into view when he pushes himself upright is the Kyuubi’s eyes, Sharingan still reflected within like blood moons. The second thing he sees is Naruto, head down and kneeling by the bars, water lapping against torn orange pants. He lifts his head, and a wry smile meets Sasuke’s stunned gaze. 

It wasn’t the Kyuubi protecting him. 

“You—”

“ You have a lot of explaining to do. Now get out of my head.” 

Naruto’s snarl is almost feral.

Darkness again. He opens his eyes to see white masks floating above and starting wordlessly at him, framed against the night sky. The noises trickle back to him, and it’s no longer the sounds of war but the efficient footsteps of medical personnel and the sharp words of clipped orders. His Sharingan has gone dark, and from the way his limbs feel shackled to iron, his chakra is completely depleted. There’s just enough energy left to move his head towards his right to find a figure with a mess of blonde hair. Naruto looks worse than Sasuke feels: raw skin and torn, bloody clothes, but the only thing that matters is the way his chest rises and falls in time with Sasuke’s own breaths.

His mind is blank save for a single thought, and it’s not centred on the village or the Kyuubi or the Will of Fire. 

Naruto.

Sasuke’s eyes flutter shut.  

Sasuke spends two days at the hospital surrounded by white curtains, white walls, and white sheets. He slides the IV out, rips off the bandages around his chest, and slips out of the window on the third morning.

He finds Naruto at home, door unlocked, noisily slurping ramen from its cup at the table in a ratty shirt and boxers. He looks exactly the same as he usually does; not a scratch on his bare skin. “Yo,” he says as a greeting, before throwing a cup of ramen at Sasuke. It hits him in the shoulder and bounces onto the floor. “How did you make ANBU with reflexes like this?”

Sasuke picks up the cup carefully and uses the few precious seconds it takes to straighten back up to arrange his thoughts. I can explain sounds too much like a lover’s quarrel, and I’m sorry for lying will allow Naruto to hold it over his head for the rest of his life.

He decides to answer the question instead. “I didn’t join ANBU. They took me in.”

“Because your eyes can control the Kyuubi, huh.”

“...Yes.” 

“Bet you didn’t expect to see me in there.”

“I never did, during all those times we were training.”

“Just because you have the Sharingan doesn’t mean you know me better than I know myself.”

“Enough,” Sasuke says, slamming the cup of ramen on the table so hard it breaks. The dried noodles spill out across the table and Naruto yells. Before Naruto can make any more of a scene, Sasuke grabs a fistful of Naruto’s shirt and pulls in close, so close that his lips brush against the shell of Naruto’s ear. He smells like miso soup and a sharp, clean tang of shampoo. “It’s not safe to talk here.” 

Naruto’s breath, the one that tickles his shoulder just a heartbeat ago, stills completely.

Drawing back, he releases Naruto’s shirt and melts into the back of the chair. His spine feels a little too much like jelly.

Naruto is left half-standing, eyes strangely unfocused. “Bastard,” Naruto murmurs as sits down heavily on the chair. He tries to hide it, but not many things escape Sasuke’s eyes, Sharingan or not. Naruto tries to hide the tremble in his hands by picking up the dried noodles on the table, before dumping it roughly into his own cup. He keeps his eyes down as he eats.

Sasuke watches Naruto eat while the prickle of unknown eyes watch the both of them from the outside, hidden by the darkness of the leaves and pale, white masks.

After an agonising half hour of waiting for Naruto to finish eating while he stares a hole into the wall in front of him, feeling the eyes of ANBU on them the entire time, Naruto is finally done. His chair makes a sharp groan as he stands, making him flinch.

Naruto chuckles. 

In response, he manhandles Naruto out the door,nloud protests trailing behind them, and he half-pulls, half-shoves Naruto into a run. He doesn’t know where they’re going until the road turns to grass and the banks of the Naka River unfurl before their sandals. Here, the air is sweet and silent. There are no tall trees for ANBU lookout points, and it’s void of chakra signatures, other than the one from the boy next to him. 

Sasuke lowers himself to sit by the grassy bank that overlooks the setting sun, a vivid, perfect orange that hangs low in the sky.

“So you can control the Kyuubi too,” Sasuke says with a slow exhale.

Naruto stands as he talks to the sun. “Why are you so surprised? It’s a part of me.”

“You failed a basic genjutsu exam at the Academy. Controlling a tailed beast is in a completely different league.”

His voice hardens. “You taught me how to tap into my own chakra. I’m not the idiot everyone expects me to be.”

“...How do you do it?” He tries to keep the begrudging amazement out of his voice, but it still curls out at the end of his words.

“Heh,” Naruto says, clearly pleased from the way his shoulders loosen up. “Once you get the first few tails out of the way for me, the rest are a piece of cake. I don’t understand how or why, but, yeah.”

Sasuke bites back a snort. How eloquent. “Why did you protect me?”

“Did the Kyuubi hit your head too hard during the fight? What kind of stupid question is that?” 

”Answer the question, moron.” 

“Because I thought you were my best friend...who are you, Sasuke?” Naruto finally turns to look down at him, face silhouetted by the deep glow of the sun.

Sasuke opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t know what to say, how to start - and if he does, if he can stop. He looks to the river instead, surface mirror smooth and calm like the expression he wears on his face, and he doesn’t know how long he stares at the water until Naruto swears loudly under his breath.

By the time he drags his eyes up, Naruto is gone. 

Something inside him cracks. A fire leaks out from deep within, scalding everything with acidic regret that Sasuke swallows whole. He races back, as fast as they used to make him run during his training at ANBU, towards the centre of the village and up the stairs and down the corridor to Naruto’s apartment. 

He pushes firmly against the weathered wooden door. For the first time since he’s known Naruto, the door is locked.

Not many things change. He still watches Naruto, but now it’s in the shadows and hidden in the trees outside the training grounds or from his own apartment. He has more peace and quiet now, and more time to draft better reports back to ANBU, but somehow he feels emptier than ever.

Naruto is a ghost: whether he’s walking the streets or buying groceries, no one pays him a second glance. Things have changed since the attack from Kiri; the villagers no longer curse or make snide remarks. Instead, their eyes slide right through him, the thinnest thread of acceptance without the grounding weight of acknowledgement. Naruto walks with his hands stuck deep in his pockets, shoulders rounded and brittle. It’s as though Sasuke is the only one who can see him.

The empty scrolls are burning up in his kitchen sink at an alarming rate. The tension in his chest loosens slightly after every bonfire, but it’s barely keeping him sane. 

He feels like a ghost himself.

A week has passed since the Talk at the river, and Sasuke is half-watching Naruto train at Training Ground Three, half-thinking about why it’s so hard to rearrange his thoughts into words when a shuriken finds its mark a hair’s breadth from Sasuke’s ear. His first thought: Naruto’s aim is pretty impressive for a not-quite Genin. 

He somersaults off the branch, landing in a graceful crouch with a knee on the ground.

Naruto storms over. “Stop following me around!”

“You know I can’t,” he says as he straightens up slowly. 

Naruto is glaring at him, and he looks like a stranger. All bared teeth and dark eyes. “Gotta keep your eyes on the dangerous Jinchuriki, huh.”

“Because you’re my one and only friend.” 

He never turns on the Sharingan when he’s watching Naruto, and this is the first time he feels a tiny bubble of regret because if he did, he would have known Naruto would fly at him. He doesn’t dodge the raised fist, because taking a beating is easier than asking for forgiveness for something he never even chose. 

The pain is sharp and swift.

“Don’t give me that shit, you bastard,” Naruto says, straddling him.

Sasuke touches his jaw, feeling the promise of a bruise blooming beneath skin as Naruto’s weight pins him into the damp grass. “I’m done lying to you.” 

“Then tell me the truth!”

For a moment, Sasuke considers knocking him out. Instead, he inhales and allows the words to gather. Like shards of his soul, they cut as they rise up but he knows he owes Naruto at least this, because he has no apology to offer. “What do you know about the Will of Fire?”

“...It’s something we learnt at the Academy. Something to do with the village being our family...” 

“It’s an oath to protect our true family at all costs - the village. We have powers that are very important to Konoha. By protecting you with my eyes, I am protecting the village.”

Naruto is quiet, still sitting on him like he’s a goddamned picnic mat. The gravity of those blue eyes burn through him, and he calculates the chances that he will get hit again. He tries his luck by squirming in an attempt to push Naruto off, but the boy just grinds his heels down harder into the grass. The friction lights a fire inside him that licks at his cheeks and he stops moving. “Why are our powers important to Konoha?”

“We are two sides of the same weapon.”

Naruto is silent for a beat. “Is that why we didn’t graduate from the Academy like everyone else? Cause we’re different?”

“Yes,” he answers simply. 

“Why don’t you want them to find out I can control the Kyuubi?”

“I already told you. You’re my friend. You started out as the Jinchuriki, but now you’re just...Naruto. Annoying, thick-skulled, unpredictable. I—I don’t want them to use us any more than they already can.” This is the first time his feelings have solidified into actual words, and they weigh heavy in his mouth. His tattoo itches, but Sasuke ignores it and focuses on a point in the sky beyond Naruto’s head. It doesn’t help, because the sky is just as blue as Naruto’s eyes.

“What about your loyalty to the village? The Will of Fire?”

A shrug, but it comes out as a strange shoulder wiggle instead. “I’m still going to protect you.” 

My one and only friend.

“So me being able to control the Kyuubi...this is our little secret.” 

“I’m not sure if secrets can be kept in that small head of yours.”

Naruto punches him again, but he puts less heart in it this time. 

“I don’t want to forgive them,” he says suddenly, softly, eyes hardening. Blue is the colour of warm skies, but it’s also the colour of freezing depths and for once, Sasuke looks away. There’s something darker inside his gaze; something that reminds him more of the Kyuubi and less of the boy who keeps lowers his gaze and tightens his hands into fists he jams into his pockets, around the jeers he pretends not to hear. “I won’t.”

Sasuke’s heart stills as turns his head back to Naruto’s gaze, meeting eyes that are still hard, but the darkness within them is gone. He knows he should apologise; he wants to apologise, but there will never be enough words for something like this. Sasuke blinks slowly and prays Naruto doesn’t look away, because the only apology he can offer is in his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating.

Almost as though Naruto can read his mind, he says, finally, “We’re getting Ichiraku. And you’re paying.” 

Of course Naruto’s forgiveness would taste like miso ramen.

Chapter Text

iv.

“The Jinchuriki knows about your power?”

“Yes,” Sasuke responds. 

Next to him, Kakashi is silent. The Hokage picks up his pipe and lights it; the flame flickers too brightly amidst their dull outfits and Sandaime’s tense shoulders.

“What changes?”

“Nothing. I will still protect him with my life,” Sasuke says. “But the village will always come first.” 

The lie comes easily.

“Kakashi, do you have any concerns?”

“No,” he answers finally. “The Jinchuriki’s trust in Uchiha could work in our favour if an attack strikes. Teamwork, and all.” 

“Not if,” Sandaime says, turning away from them to look out the window and Sasuke's eyes follow him. Konoha is framed, as pretty as a picture. “When.”

Something shifts in their relationship. 

He doesn’t tell Naruto everything, like how he’s really living in the apartment next to his and has been since they were twelve, but they talk more. Memories and experiences are starting to bleed out, replacing the weight of the rules that have kept his life in place. 

Sasuke begins to spend more time at Naruto’s place until there’s always a few tomatoes stocked in the fridge, alongside milk and colourful sauces. Strangely enough, Naruto is a good listener.

They talk in Naruto’s apartment when Sasuke casts a simple noise barrier that distorts their words so ANBU, if there are any, won’t overhear them. It’s nothing completely treacherous - Sasuke just talks about the memories he allows himself to remember now, things that must mean absolutely nothing to Naruto like the hours he spent practicing the clan’s signature fireball jutsu or how his mother added cubed tomatoes in his onigiri. He lies on the futon and Naruto in the bed, and sometimes time melts away too quickly and the next thing he knows, the moon hangs at its highest point in the sky and Naruto is asleep, face turned towards his voice. 

One day, Naruto tips his entire world off its carefully balanced axis. 

“So why did ANBU take you in?”

“It was after the massacre. I had no one left.”

“You could have lived alone like me. Do you know what happened?”

Sasuke forgets to breathe. His whole life is set along a single path - obey orders because that is simple, ignore choices because those are messy. Tunnel vision means everything else is blocked out; this is the first time since graduation that questions, instead of just hazy doubts and vague discomfort, cloud over in his head - why his family was slaughtered, why an entire clan was wiped out. This is a question that will come with tangible answers and for the first time, the heavy thing in his chest settles down without the promise of fire.

I’ll find out.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s cool,” Naruto starts to babble. He always gets flustered with silence. “Wanna get ramen instead?”

“Hey Naruto,” Sasuke says, catching Naruto’s wrist. The steady beat of his pulse thrums, a little faster than usual. “Thanks,” he says softly.

“What for?” Naruto asks and then for some reason Naruto is leaning in and even without the Sharingan, Sasuke knows what will happen. There is so much time to pull back, to pull away. To keep what Naruto is to him as a duty instead of a choice he is choosing to make, over and over again. Thank you for being the most human person I know, even though they call you the monster. Thank you for being so damn unpredictable. Thank you for being my destiny. 

Sasuke doesn’t say any of that; instead, he moves in to meet Naruto halfway, and welcomes the upending of their entire world.

Spectres of vague plans drift about in his head, as persistent as the impossible brightness of Naruto’s loud voice that rings out around him. The only way everything stops is when he presses his lips to Naruto’s, because then the plans settle down and Naruto smiles up against his mouth.  

A few weeks later, something breaks through into their world, something solid enough to scatter his thoughts and rip him right out from the strange bubble they’ve been floating in. Their world ends with a scroll he receives in his silent apartment.

The Akatsuki are coming for the Jinchuriki. Stay prepared.

He sets the scroll alight right there in his hand, not even bothering to drop it in the sink. The flames dance high enough to lick at the curtains as ash scatters itself over his bed and desk, and something cold crawls down his spine and spreads throughout his body even though there’s a literal bonfire in his palm. 

In a way, this is easier. The decision has been made for him, all he can do now is act. 

The moment the scroll burns out in his hand, he draws the glass pane of his window back, and leaps out and into the dark night. Head down, fingers clenched into his palms, he makes his way to the Hokage Mansion. 

Within the building, he finds the standard ANBU guards outside the Hokage’s office: two members in full uniform, one on each side of the plain door. One has long, vibrant purple hair and he doesn’t recognise the hairstyle or posture of the other. On his end, he’s certain that every ANBU member knows exactly who Uchiha Sasuke is. 

“I don’t have an appointment. I need to talk to the Hokage.”

“State your purpose,” Rat, the one he doesn’t recognise, says.

“It’s confidential.”

Cat is the one who finally nods at him, and Sasuke slips into the office without a second glance back. He shuts the door firmly behind him. Sandaime is hunched over the deck, attention absorbed in a collection of scrolls that are sprawled out before him. 

He looks up, and his gaze betrays no emotion. “Sasuke-kun.” 

Muscle memory compels him to drop onto one knee, head lowered. “Sandaime Hokage,” he says.

“Is something wrong with the Jinchuriki?”

“No. I’m here for a personal reason.” 

There’s no answer, and Sasuke lifts his head slowly, still couched down. The Hokage’s eyes are smooth and clear, like glass. 

“What happened to the Uchiha clan?” Sasuke asks, knowing his expression mirrors the blank one he’s looking at. 

As impulsive as this seems, this is one of the plans he has been mulling in his head. No smoke bombs, no brute force. He has come here with nothing more but a question that demands an answer. Reckless? Perhaps. But there’s a beauty in simplicity, something all ANBU are taught to appreciate. 

Sasuke is vindicated when the Hokage continues staring calmly at him, almost like he had expected this. 

“You know I can’t tell you, Sasuke-kun. Revenge is an endless cycle that will consume even the best shinobi. This is for your own protection.”

Sasuke blinks. The Hokage might be the most powerful figure in the village, but he’s not ANBU. He didn’t learn how to suffocate every emotion, to render their faces as smooth as the masks they wear. For just a sliver of a second, the Hokage looks away. 

He is lying.

Sasuke stands slowly, feeling the blood rush back into his legs. If his calculations are correct, he has three minutes, or less. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the office. The Hokage does not stop him.

In the first thirty seconds, he incapacitates Rat with nothing more than a flash of red. A well-aimed hit to the side of his neck drops him to the ground, limp. 

Cat has her katana unsheathed when Sasuke faces her, eyes spinning. Unbidden, the years they trained together flood back to him - a side effect of the Sharingan. Endless hours of kenjutsu, seamless movements, blistered palms. Her eyes, when they were not hidden by a porcelain mask, were almost kind. 

“Uzuki-san,” he says, and her hand stills and her back hits the wall. On the other side of the wall is the Hokage, who he knows has already called for reinforcements. She slides gently onto the ground as Sasuke continues speaking. “What do you know about the Uchiha massacre?” 

Coaxed by genjutsu, her voice is monotonous. “We were briefed by Root about the mission. Eliminate all but one.” 

He’s prepared for the answer, but this knocks something loose within him. The scenarios in his head cycled from a heroic fight against Konoha’s sworn enemies to a targeted hit from a Hidden Village envious of their devastating eyes, but this, this is something he didn’t factor in. For all that he is, he is still too naive. He knows about Root and how they run parallel to ANBU, serving Konoha’s own goals. The weight of this truth finds its way onto his chest, winding around his lungs until it hurts to breathe and everything is stained red. It hurts more than he thinks is possible, and the genjutsu wavers because Uzuki’s legs are starting to twitch and move, feet finding purchase on the ground.

All this takes fifty seconds, and it’s all he needs.

Gasping, trying to clear his vision of a world dripping red, Sasuke flees the Hokage Mansion and into the peaceful night. 

He pushes the door open so hard it bounces against the wall and cracks off its hinges. “Naruto!” 

“Sasuke,” Naruto says dumbly, from where he’s sitting at the dining table. Messy hair, clad in pajamas. No ramen in sight, but he’s drinking from a carton of milk. The sight is so ordinary, so innocent, it makes the chasm in his chest grow even wider. “What’s wrong.” 

He knows they have less than five minutes until ANBU and Root descend on them.

Sasuke takes a deep breath to smoothen out the emotion from his voice. “I know what happened.” For the first time he can remember, his voice wavers and cracks.

Naruto stands. “Sasuke…” 

“There’s another Sharingan user in ANBU. This is your chance to run. You might have a chance while I’m fighting them.” It’s too late, far too late for his words, but this is a final chance to try. “I’m sorry, Nar—” He knows he is blabbering, the words pouring out as haphazardly as the way his heart is beating.

Warm fingers bite into Sasuke’s shoulders, and Naruto’s face swims into view. “What are you saying?” 

“My clan...my parents. How—How do you live with the lie? I lied to you, the village lied to you, everyone lied to you.” His vision wavers again and this time it’s not from the Sharingan. Frustratingly, it’s from his tears.

“I told you back then - I won’t forgive them. I just haven’t decided what I want to do with them or how to make them pay.” The hurt is raw in his voice, and Sasuke always thought he understood Naruto best. It’s only now, steeped in his own pain under the weight of the truth, that he truly understands. 

“They are coming for me, but I’m going to fight.” 

Of all the things he thinks Naruto would do, this is the last he expects: Naruto smiles. “Of course. What’s the plan?” 

“The plan?”

Naruto’s smile stays steady. “Two sides of the same weapon. We’re fighting them together.” 

“No,” Sasuke rasps. 

“Shut up,” Naruto says, with no bite. He reaches for his jacket that’s slung behind the chair. The gesture is so unremarkable, they could be getting ready to go to Ichiraku or down to the training grounds to spar; anything other than the reality that they are going to war. “So, the plan?”

There’s a fire in Naruto’s eyes and there’s a fire in his left arm. Now Sasuke is sure, even though he’s always known, which one burns brighter. 

“I will fix what they’ve wronged.”

They have two minutes. 

Before I am a shinobi, I am Uchiha Sasuke.

When Sasuke makes his way back to the centre of the village, to the Hokage Mansion, the apartments and administrative buildings that surround it have been cleared from the way everything is dark and the air is unnaturally still. They are expecting him, and they are expecting a fight. Sasuke moves quickly under the cover of darkness.

Inside, the corridor to the Hokage’s office is empty. He hears the sharp echo of his footsteps as he edges closer and closer to the end. 

The door to the office is ajar, and Sasuke walks in without missing a step. The Hokage is waiting behind his desk, together with the same man he saw in the office a lifetime ago, before he was sent out on his only mission. He’s still dressed in white and a single eye trails him until he stops in the middle of the room. Around them, they are surrounded by ANBU.

“Didn’t think you’d be a sentimental one,” the man says, eyeing him from head to toe. Sasuke thinks it’s only fitting that he settles this in his ANBU uniform, complete with the Hawk mask that hides his blood red eyes.

Sasuke remains as silent as the other ANBU figures. These are his comrades. This is supposed to be his family. Everything has been a lie. 

“What do you want, Sasuke-kun?” The Hokage asks quietly. 

He’s not here with flashy distractions or hidden meanings. “Only two things: justice for my clan, for my family,” he answers plainly. But it’s not only for those who are now nothing more than ghosts. There are also those who are still breathing: for himself, for Naruto. “Second thing: I want to know your name,” he adds, pointing a finger at the man. 

The man’s soft laughter echoes around the circular room. “I should be so honoured. Shimura Danzo.”

“Revenge will solve nothing,” the Hokage says softly. “We did what we had to do for the greater good.” 

He can feel his eyes spin faster, in sync with his rising heart rate. 

“You think you know the truth,” Danzo says, “but you know nothing, child. This is the truth: the Uchiha were on the brink of a coup d'etat that would have brought a civil war upon Konoha.” 

“So you did what you had to do?” Sasuke replies.

“Of course.” 

Sasuke nods, and for a moment, uncertainty clouds Danzo’s eyes. “Then you will understand why I have to do this. This is for the greater good.”

His eyes harden. “You were trained in ANBU, but you sound worse than a mindless civilian sheltered from the destruction of war. I knew I shouldn’t have let Hiruzen take you into ANBU. Even now, he’s still too soft. You would have been made into the perfect weapon at Root.”

The Hokage throws Danzo a glance that is countered with an unwavering gaze. 

Sasuke’s mouth is dry and it’s getting harder to keep his temper and emotions from flaring up.

“The Akatsuki are heading towards Konoha. If you fight us, you risk destabilising the entire village. Tens of thousands of innocent people will die,” the Hokage says.

The meaning is crystal clear, weaved into the words left unspoken: there is no difference between you and your clan who were ready to betray us. 

Sasuke opens his mouth to reply, but Danzo turns back to him almost lazily. “This is dragging on. Are you ready to fight, Sasuke?” 

Sasuke responds by lifting a hand and in an instant, every ANBU figure unsheathes their sword, sending a harsh whisper throughout the room. His hand doesn’t draw back far enough to reach his own katana, instead his fingers find the edge of his mask to pull it over his head. The mask is cool and light in his hands, and he keeps his eyes on the floor. He lets the mask fall, where it shatters into a thousand tiny shards in front of his feet. It’s not a fire, but it steadies the fluttering in his chest. He looks up slowly to find every eye in the room trained on him, staring straight into his blood red gaze.

“Before we begin,” Danzo says suddenly. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

Sasuke hears him before he sees him. 

Two figures dressed in darker uniforms than his, complete with masks and katanas affixed to their backs, emerge from the shadows at the back of the room. Between them is Naruto, struggling against the cords that bind his hands and his feet, muttering curses under his breath. 

Sasuke keeps his breathing steady and his eyes flat.

“Your sentimentality will be your downfall. We know that you and the Jinchuriki have grown close. We can’t kill him because he’s the Jinchuriki, but we can torture him until there’s nothing left but a breathing vessel that houses the Kyuubi. We can strip him of his sight, his hearing, his humanity.”

Sasuke looks at Naruto, drinking in his brightness and his sheer exuberance and the way he lives and it’s a painful contrast to what little he remembers of his family: dark eyes, solemn advice, dead. 

For a greater good, he thinks.

“You may not be able to kill him,” he says as his left hand digs out a kunai from his pouch. Sasuke shifts his gaze to the Root members next to Naruto, and it’s really no contest because he can move faster than they can defend their prisoner. A twist of the wrist and the kunai sails effortlessly towards Naruto, aimed right between those achingly blue eyes. “But I can.” 

Some individuals, some families, are more important than the village.

The Sharingan never lies because anything guided by those eyes will find its mark, perfect and true. At the very last moment, Sasuke averts his eyes so he hears it instead, how Naruto splits open and disappears in a gust of white smoke. 

Unpredictability started as Naruto’s thing, but maybe it could be their thing now, he thinks with a smirk.

And then everything erupts in chaos. Sasuke counts the seconds under his breath as he draws out his katana to defend himself from the endless blades that sweep down onto him.

Fifty seconds later, once the Shadow Clone’s memories return to the real Naruto, chaos arrives outside in the form of an inhuman roar. It rips through the Hokage’s office, sending glass from the windows raining down around them as bodies are thrown up against the walls. Before there’s time to process this, something heavy slams into the top of the building, collapsing part of the ceiling and sending a wave of rubble that Sasuke only avoids due to his eyes and prior knowledge of the plan.  

There are shouts, screams, and from the way no one is coming after him, he knows that ANBU and Root have more important things to protect.

He takes advantage of the chaos to jump out of the window, scrambling up onto the open rooftop on top of the Hokage Mansion. He crouches into a corner that isn’t crumbling down onto itself, folding himself as small as he can get, and there it is, the three-tailed Kyuubi, standing on the road below. He can still see Naruto’s body beneath the bubbling chakra, and it looks right up at him. 

His eyes spin and he falls easily into Naruto’s consciousness. He’s waiting for him, bathed in the strange sepia hue of the chamber, fringe slicked against his forehead. Before Sasuke can stop himself, he reaches out to touch the space between his eyes, fingertips fluttering against hot skin.

Bright. Exuberant. Alive. 

“Ha! You felt guilty about killing me so now you wanna kiss me,” Naruto says, breaking his train of thought.

Sasuke glares at him. “I did not, and no, I do not.”

“Then what’s the hold up? Bring out the rest—mmmh.” Sasuke grabs the front of Naruto’s jacket and pulls him in, silencing him with his lips while he trains his eyes on the Kyuubi behind Naruto. He breathes in the damp humidity and the sweat on Naruto’s skin as he coaxes more red chakra out.  

Sasuke pulls away as a wave of heat sweeps through the chamber. It’s working; he can sense the tails that are forming. “See you on the outside,” he says, and Naruto throws him a thumbs up. 

His vision clears and he’s back on top of the Hokage Mansion. Below, the Kyuubi has eight tails and instead of the red mass of solid chakra that coats Naruto’s body, it is made from flesh and sinew and muscle, taking the shape of a complete fox.

Sasuke jumps off the building and takes shelter on the balcony of an empty apartment just as all eight tails crash into the building, levelling it like a house of cards. The shockwave that follows out burns at his cheeks, and he has to raise his arms to protect his face. The tails continue to pound down on what’s left of the structure, sending dust and debris high into the night sky. Sasuke had told him he didn’t want anything to remain of the Hokage Mansion, especially not the ANBU headquarters. 

Before the dust settles, he’s already concentrating on suppressing the Kyuubi’s chakra, drawing it back steadily and just as quickly as it arrives, the tails recede and the Kyuubi’s body starts to dissolve. 

Naruto can take care of the rest.

He waits in this darkened corner, until the Kyuubi disappears and nothing is left but a pile of rubble as Jonin and Chuunin begin to swarm the place. From the way they are desperately digging, he knows the Hokage and Danzo are still somewhere underneath it all. He watches as Naruto hides in plain sight among all the shadow clones he calls forth, distracting those left to capture him, until the real Naruto finds his way next to him. 

Naruto is covered in dirt and scratches and blood that Sasuke hopes is not his own, and he knows he looks just as roughed up. “Not bad for two guys who didn’t make Genin,” Naruto says with a sharp grin. 

Sasuke laughs. 

My life is important; I will protect what matters with my blood, my life, my soul.

All he needs is a few breaths to take in the sight laid out before them. No more, no less. The Hokage Mansion is a giant pile of rubble, plumes of smoke snaking above it. The Hokage and Danzo and ANBU, obliterated. The heart of Kohona, eviscerated.  

Before he drags Naruto along and away, Sasuke brings his hands into a series of seals. Snake, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger, and a ball of fire flies down to raze what remains of the Hokage’s Mansion. The pure relief that follows melts away all the tension from his blood and muscle; fire cleanses all. 

A single memory flashes through the flames that bloom before his eyes, cutting through the hazy gauze of time: his brother, waiting for him at the Academy after his first day of school. They were surrounded by high-pitched chatter and excited energy, and Sasuke can now remember something that sounded exactly like Naruto’s throaty laughter, as clear and true as daylight.  

There is no Will of Fire - there is only fire. 

The only thing left is to run. Together, they steal away into the darkness, turning from the bright fire that continues to burn in the heart of Konoha. 

Next to him, Naruto is keeping pace, feet light against the branches they’re pushing themselves off from. Sasuke isn’t naive; he knows that sometimes, solving one problem unearths a dozen others. This is merely the beginning: they are missing-nin now. Konoha will be on their heels. Akatsuki will leave Konoha alone and hunt them down.   

Death could find them tomorrow; they could die in a month or ten years from now. It doesn’t matter, not when they were never truly alive within the walls of Konoha. There are things far worse than dying.

For now, this is enough. Happiness is simple with the wind cool against his face, the truth loose in his chest, the world spread out before their fingertips, and Naruto by his side.

They’ve lost too many things to the fire. It’s now time to live, really live, with what they have found instead.