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Sasuke is dead.
He thinks. He expected to be dead, honestly, and it certainly hurt enough to be his death, though Sasuke has been hurt far more than enough to die in the past, too, and knows the pain hardly means anything.
“Get up.”
The words are clipped and impatient, the voice deep and thoughtlessly commanding. Sasuke thinks it is familiar, but cannot place it in his memory.
There is nothing more to be learned from pretending he is not aware, and he gets the feeling he’s not fooling whoever that is. He opens his eyes and stiffens, throat tightening as alarm runs through him, when he sees a tall, imposing figure glaring at him.
“Nidaime-sama.” Sasuke says thoughtlessly, because he may have left Konohagakure behind many years ago - been a traitor for more years than he lived within its walls - but this is one of the strongest, and most terrifying, ninja in history.
. . .and no matter how much he also hates Konoha, it is still Sasuke’s home, through everything he has done, and always has been. Always will be.
“Uchiha Sasuke.” Tobirama says, and his voice is dark and hard, his eyes narrow.
Sasuke doesn’t cringe only because years of living in bases that kept him in close quarters with Orochimaru and Kabuto has hardened his reflex to horrifying glares.
“I take it you are not unintelligent enough to be unaware of the utter catastrophe you have wrought of the world?” Tobirama says sharply, and Sasuke’s eyes widen before he scowls. That is not- “Not alone, but your decisions certainly hastened it, when other choices might have turned aside disaster.”
“It is not-” Sasuke begins, then falters because he doesn’t know how to say- what to push back- how to explain. . .
“Are you enough of a shinobi to take responsibility for your actions and inactions, or are you still the terrified, ignorant, over-promoted genin you should never have progressed beyond?” Tobirama demands, and Sasuke wants to shout but Tobirama’s hand curling around his shoulder at the base of his neck like an iron collar stifles his voice before he can think.
“-and that disaster brat calls himself an Uchiha!”
Sasuke wavers on his feet. That is Uchiha Madara, who had stomped back into the world of the living with no apparent care for the order of things even for those resurrected - and then proceeded to outmatch the greater portion of the shinobi world. At once.
And he is off behind Tobirama, who is not flinching at his presence, though last Sasuke saw them Madara was sending Tobirama’s resurrected body back to the Pure Lands in the most vicious way he could . . . after Tobirama stepped in to save Sasuke from his wrath.
“I believe,” Tobirama says, his voice painfully dry, not releasing Sasuke, “he calls himself the last Uchiha.”
Madara whirls, teeth bared, hair puffing up around him like an angry cat’s fur. Sasuke fights not to quail as his eyes fix on Sasuke’s. “If this is what my clan has been reduced to, then he damn well should be! That we should have sunk so low as this unworthy-” He breaks off with a wordless snarl.
“Peace, Madara.” Tobirama says almost lazily, and Sasuke is suddenly remembering all the horrible things Madara has done. And he is judging Sasuke unworthy of his clan?
He glares, opening his mouth, and Tobirama shakes him. “Madara has done more for his clan than you could manage in a dozen lifetimes, even when they turned on him. What can you claim?” he asks sharply.
Sasuke would like to argue, but he looks into those eyes and thinks there is nothing he could say that would turn aside Tobirama’s wrath. He cannot think of any words to defend his actions, either - a part of him is aware they have not . . . always been the best, but Sasuke could not turn aside from his path once it was chosen.
Madara stomps up behind Tobirama and Sasuke is a little surprised that he doesn’t so much as flinch. Madara puts a hand on Tobirama’s shoulder, and he eases his grip on Sasuke, straightening, moving back a little.
“This is not why we intercepted him.” Madara says, and Tobirama sighs.
Sasuke shifts anxiously. “Why- Why did you . . . intercept me? What am I doing here?”
“You’re dead.” Tobirama says bluntly, and Madara snorts, lips twitching as though he finds that amusing. Perhaps he does. Sasuke remembers the wild, mad creature that Madara had been, tearing his way through the world, even the Kage no match for him, the five of them together.
“While normally that would mean it’s a little late for you to attempt fixing your colossal fuck ups,” Madara says, and Sasuke scowls, “someone cannot seem to help breaking the laws of the universe.”
“If they were laws of the universe they would not be breakable,” Tobirama complains, rolling his eyes, “I’m simply . . . bending things.”
“You brought the dead back to life. I had to have my morning tea interrupted to deal with sudden resurrection. You do not get to say that.” Madara says, nudging him. Despite the harsh words, his onyx eyes are warm. Tobirama takes a breath and Madara shoves him a little harder. “You brought the dead back to life. And I’m fairly certain time and space were never designed for the kinds of folds and jumps you casually twist them into.”
Sasuke realises through his dazed bafflement that Tobirama is pouting at Madara.
“However,” Madara says, and the nudge is gentler this time as he raises his hand to rest at the base of Tobirama’s neck; the touch is soft, thumb brushing the vulnerable place just above Tobirama’s collarbones, and he doesn’t twitch at it, “that is what allows for what we are doing now,” his eyes slide back to Sasuke and any warmth Sasuke thought there was in that gaze is gone now, “allows for this . . . disaster to at least try to correct his own mistakes.”
“How? I’m dead, remember?” Sasuke reminds flatly.
“You would hardly be much use to change things if we put you back where you came from in any case.” Tobirama says, dry and sharp. “Far too late, and you are hardly likely to be able to make those kinds of sweeping changes.”
“What do you expect me to-”
“Fix it.” Tobirama snaps, and Sasuke would rather eat his chokutou than admit it but his searing blood-red eyes and the harsh tone make Sasuke’s spine go to water and his stomach knot.
“If you wind up back here again without putting things right,” Madara says in a low purr, breaking into the same manic grin Sasuke remembers from a battlefield that had shredded the world, “then we try my plan, instead.”
Sasuke has no idea what he means, but even if he wanted to ask, there is no time.
“Don’t fuck it up again.” Madara orders, and Tobirama snorts, lips curling into a faint smile as he pushes Sasuke, hands coming up into seals that blur along with the rest of reality as the world drops suddenly from beneath Sasuke, even as he feels crushed on all sides.
Sasuke’s ears ring and the universe rushes around him and he gasps and would fall backwards if not for the more than a decade of being an active ninja with far too many people wanting to kill him and far too few who would even hesitate to slide a blade between his ribs.
. . .for a moment he thinks he’s gone mad, because that sounds very like Naruto going on about ramen and being the Hokage someday.
Then his vision clears and he sees Kakashi lounging against a railing some dozen steps before him, wearing the oldest style of Konoha jounin uniform Sasuke can remember. Kakashi’s one uncovered eye flicks to Sasuke’s right as he prompts-
Sakura begins squealing beside him, in a way Sakura hasn’t squealed in years, and a pitch he doesn’t think she can reach any more - not that Sasuke would know, really. He hasn’t been close to Sakura when it isn’t nearly his death or the world coming to an end for years.
Sasuke knows where he is, now, though, and. . .
It must have been them, of course, this was what they meant, but . . . how, and more than that- What the hell is Sasuke supposed to do, twelve years old again, thrown into the past and- He didn’t exactly do a great job here the first time, how and why do they think he’ll do any better now? The only thing Sasuke is good at is breaking things.
“My name is Uchiha Sasuke,” Sasuke begins, not thinking, unable to think, “I have lots of dislikes,” his lip curls, “but no likes in particular,” he says, as he had last time; he had been so caught up in himself then, he thinks, trying not to break the character of his younger self and wondering what he’s supposed to do here, “and I-” Sasuke glances around and in a flash he remembers. . .
Sakura, beside him now flushing rosily and all but cooing, grown and strong enough to wreck the world but nearly killing herself as she screams, holding the world and Sasuke and Naruto all together by the force of her will and brilliant green chakra.
Naruto on his other side, dirty and scuffed and too-thin - Sasuke saw it before, but now he knows what it means, and it makes something behind his eyes burn - a bundle of endless energy, chasing Sasuke to the ends of the earth and past it, eyes clear and face streaked with tears, not expecting anything but the violence Sasuke had always given him but refusing to stop hoping.
Kakashi, slouching and exhausted before them - he’s always exhausted, Sasuke thinks he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Kakashi not a wreck, even if he never realised it as a kid - watching with expectation and pain in his gaze that Sasuke saw only increase over the years; broken and refusing to fall apart, willing to sacrifice everything and worse, still strong enough to pick himself up afterwards and continue on, more than Sasuke ever managed.
“My dream,” Sasuke says instead, because he can’t not change this, not now, and maybe- maybe this is what they meant? “My dream is to be part of the strongest team of ninja in the world; the best team, who will never turn on each other.” he says fiercely.
Kakashi’s eye widens, and Sasuke knows that probably hurt, and more than that, knows Kakashi will know enough about him to know that . . . is unexpected.
But if he’s going to change the world - and he definitely doesn’t want to face his crazy ancestor again having failed, he thinks, shuddering - he has to start somewhere.
Team Seven - the closest thing Sasuke had to a real family, he thinks, because he has lived enough to see how broken his own was behind the false face they showed - sounds like a good place to start.