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The air feels cooler than it used to be the last time he was here. Sasuke doesn't know if it's from the unexpected morning drizzle or the deficiency of a certain warmth he has always sought here, but every time he stands here, it's colder than the last time.
The Hokage faces are in sight from here, five rock carvings standing old but sturdy, and proud, whether looking out for Konoha or looking down on it, he isn't sure. The way he came, Sasuke observed how things have shifted around the village, as if he's never been here at all. Lanes that rounded to a corner towards the training grounds now run straight into the market, and the number of houses has grown since the last time. He remembers well, but recognizing he finds tough.
It's difficult to recognize him now as well—his clothes are lamentably tattered, the soiled brown shawl hanging down his shoulders is unevenly edged, and there's a hole or two in his ages old ninja sandals. Dark circles crown his eyes, and the dirt etched on his now stubbled face makes him seem more like a vagrant thug than the lone survivor of the once exalted Uchiha clan. He has lost muscles, and his skin sticks to his cheekbones. At least, no one will pay heed to him; it'll be trouble if someone did. Sasuke isn't even sure how and why he's still alive. He should have died by now—either killed by the ninjas in search of him or taken his own life. He wonders why his blood-stained hands are abstained of his own blood, why he isn't crushed to death by the weight of his own sins. His throat tightens at the thought as he surveys the place he's standing in.
Countless similar stones surround him, names more honored than his engraved on each, yet the one he's standing before is the one he couldn't touch until now. Funny how a warrior who thirsted for his brother's blood for years and killed hundreds of innocent people has nightmares because of a mere piece of rock. The memory is fresh enough to wound him even after five years.
He can still feel the ghost of her body heat on his hands, the slickness of her blood glazing his fingers and running down his palm, and the feeling leaves his blood cold, his forehead doused with sweat. As he opens his mouth for a word to come out, he finds his mind running blank. It has always been this way—he knows what he has to say, but he can't, for there's no meaning to those words if they come from him. It is weird that he remembers every detail about her as if it was his to begin with, her emerald eyes, her cherry-blossom hair and her birthday.
It's today—her birthday.
He just has to say two words—not really difficult to pronounce either—but his throat ran dry the moment he separated his lips. As if he has been hit in the gut, he feels breathless, but he's trying. Like the need to get those seconds of sleep before finally waking up, he is clinging to his desperation to overcome his physical and emotional inability for fulfilling his need to say these two words he has been trying to say for five years. Why? He doesn't know, but if he doesn't say it, he'll feel worse than last year and return to that deep pit of darkness he has been living in, with another guilt adding weight upon his shoulders. He opens his mouth again, and it's those simple two words, but damn it!—he can't speak.
How can he wish her a 'happy birthday' when it's not adding to her life, and it's not happy either? It was him who took her life back at the bridge. He remembers Kakashi's terror-struck face as her corpse landed in his arms, and Naruto's breakdown, followed by his transformation. So much has changed since then, but one thing is still the same—he is still a murderer. Right now, he's slowly killing himself, killing her birthday with his presence and killing the last trace of his humanity. Sasuke isn't even sure if he's still human after all he has done. With a shake of his head, he focuses on wishing her—just once and he won't trouble her again; just to get this weight off his chest.
"You bastard..." Sasuke hears something drop and slightly tilts his head to find a silhouette he has been avoiding for years. He especially came early so he won't face him, but here he is—Naruto. Onyx-laced eyes widen in terror as he staggers back, trying to figure out the next action he should take, but his mind is on how much his former best friend has changed. He's almost taller than Sasuke, but he has lost the radiance he once generated. And most of all, his eyes scream hatred. In a frenzy, Sasuke turns on his heels and tries to escape before he finds himself on the ground, Naruto upon him, hauling his dirty shawl with a menacing edge to his face.
"How dare you show your face after all you've done?!"
If it were the past, he would have fought back. This is Sasuke Uchiha, after all, and he isn't afraid of anything. And Naruto expects it but is surprised to find a sickly pale face avoiding his eyes. Naruto will have taken it as a mistake if he wouldn't have known better; it's Sasuke—a Sasuke terrified of killing. With a trembling jaw, and eyes welled up with tears of anguish, Naruto slams Sasuke's back on the ground before moving away. His back faces his former best friend and he can't manage to look at the state he's in now. It doesn't mean that he doesn't hate him, and his fingers are trembling to kill him, but he also isn't the Naruto of the past. He has now faced deaths of people precious to him before his eyes, understood what it means to love someone, and learnt consideration.
The bouquet he dropped earlier lies slightly disheveled as he picks it up with a click of his tongue.
"Just how long are you planning to lay there like an insect?" He glances at Sasuke, who flinches before gathering himself up on his feet. Sasuke's fingers tremble as he practices clenching and unclenching his fist, curling his toes in anticipation of what's to happen. He can't face it yet, the harsh reality of his actions, the judgement pending upon him for taking all those lives. He took time getting used to killing, and in an instant, he was terrified of it—the instant his hands pierced her body. It isn't easy to know why after all these years he has turned into his most insecure self, flinching at the sight of anyone and anything, barely being mentally stable and like a vessel filled with water to the brim as if even a touch will spill him away. He feels naked when people watch him, as if they know who he is and what he is thinking when he himself isn't sure of it. The world has twisted into a nightmare for him.
Sasuke watches from the back as Naruto places the bouquet upon the surface of the stone, clapping his hands and closing his eyes as silence befalls them. He takes his time, as Sasuke gets more and more anxious, but the Uchiha pride still lingers and he tries his best to hide it.
"Happy birthday, Sakura." Naruto says the words Sasuke has been wanting to say for years so easily, but he obviously can; he isn't guilty of her birthday being of no meaning, after all. Naruto stands up, still facing the stone reading her name, his back against him just like back then, the only thing that changes is the absence of Sakura's lifeless corpse in his arms. He freezes when he thinks of that, feeling the reopening of old wounds.
Naruto clenches his jaw to stop his teeth from trembling, and shuts his eyes to hide his tears, but it feels like the hardest thing he has done after having carried Sakura's lifeless body all the way back to Konoha. The man behind him is the murderer of the girl he loved—he loves—and in all honesty, killing him now seems like the best option, but his hands never move. It's not stupidity his actions speak but consideration, for before being his love, Sakura was his best friend. He is the one who knew her the best.
"When are you going to wish her, you know?" He manages to gather enough voice to ask. Sasuke doesn't reply, and Naruto has to make sure if he is still there. Sasuke stands with his head bowed low and Naruto, after a long time, finally looks at him. He looks like he has gotten smaller, shoulders shrunk and thinner than Naruto remembers. His friendly instincts want him to drag him to a proper lunch, but NO, he isn't the friend he used to have but a murderer. "Why did you come here then? How dare you show up after taking away her life?" He jerks his head towards the unknown-acquaintance before him. "Is coming here and showing your bloody face your idea of redemption?! Do you think she'll forgive you?!"
No. Sasuke thinks she won't. He believes she won't and she shouldn't. For who forgives their own killers? Sakura must know better.
"She will." Sasuke's head shoots up when Naruto replies to his own question. "She will, Sasuke," Naruto is trembling while saying that, the grip of his teeth on his lip almost frightening, "You know it too, don't you?"
No, he doesn't. It petrifies Sasuke to even think of that. There's no way she will forgive when even Naruto didn't. Even he himself didn't.
Getting no response, Naruto shoves his nails in his skin before landing a punch to Sasuke's face. The impact leaves his cheek blue-black, and he soon finds Naruto pulling him up by his collar, "How can you still be quiet?" His downcast head has droplets of tears gliding down, "Take responsibility, Sasuke. She still loves you. I know it. She's still watching you, you know. Isn't that the reason you're alive?"
Is that it? Has he been dragging his ankles on this ragged path of life because a clingy, annoying woman has never stopped being annoying to him? Is that why he still faces the piercing pain of his actions hovering inside his heart? What might it be called—a blessing or a curse—that she is watching over him from the heavens, loving her own murderer and wishing for him to live?
Sasuke's lips form a smile at the thought, his first one in over five years, and it slowly grows into a giggle.
"What's got you laughing?"
That it was so simple, this thing called love. He doesn't say it, though, and rather, lightly jerks Naruto away as he steers himself towards the only grave that haunts him in his nightmares. Naruto watches Sasuke fall on his knees as he wipes his own wet cheek with his sleeves. Sasuke's smile is faltering, but he maintains it, trying to keep his eyes from watering at the realization. It has always been so simple. He has been coming here for five years, thinking he'll say it once and never come back, but each time he doesn't and comes back again. It's not because he can't, but because he doesn't want to. This place is the only thing left of her presence, this stone cold tablet with her name engraved on it, and all the trouble he has gone to until now has been for this. Love is simple. It will get the things it wants, whether consciously or unconsciously, in life or in death. It's not because Sakura is still in love with him that he is alive, but because he is in love with Sakura that he is desperate to cling to his guilt as her last memoir.
"Happy birthday, Sakura." It feels easier after the realization, and there're no fireworks when he says it. Rather, it feels like he has just come out of a deep, dark hole he was trapped in for an eternity. Now, he has seen light, and it feels oddly comfortable, as if this is where he belongs.
"I love you, too."
"What's up with the dry-ass confession?" Naruto ignores Sasuke's tears as he too seats himself beside him while the Uchiha ignores the crack in Naruto's voice. Sasuke doesn't even try to hide it—he's had enough of hiding things. He rests his face between his knees and gulps and cries.
"Give her freedom, Sasuke," Naruto quotes, before pulling out a kunai. Sasuke wonders what he's going to do when Naruto scratches the Haruno inscriptions away from the grave, replacing it with a very untidy kanji of Uchiha. It looks beautiful with her name, though. And God! She would have looked breathtaking with an Uchiwa symbol on her back. If only ... if only ...
"With the power vested in me as Sakura's best friend and one-sided lover," Naruto can't stop his painful giggle at that, and Sasuke falls in tune with him, "I now pronounce you as husband and wife. Also, I will not be responsible for the crime of damaging a person's grave. Since you're a criminal anyway, carry this sin too. For Sakura."
He says her name with a different tone of seriousness to his voice, and Sasuke finds it hard to take his eyes away from the so-called "property damage" because heck! It's more beautiful than any creation he knows. Sakura Uchiha. If that is what Sakura used to dream about as teenagers, she must have had some beautiful dreams because he feels enthralled just at the imagery of it.
"And by the way, at least try to look good. You look gross. You have to be worthy enough for the title of Sakura's husband. If not, remember that there's still space on this tombstone." The joke isn't as funny with the way his voice cracks, about to break. Sasuke considers it. It's the least he can do for her. Be a good-looking husband.
Naruto walks past him, trying his best to hide his frustration, "Live for her. That is your punishment for killing her. Carry her pain, your guilt and my hatred for all your life. And never show your face again around my village."
Sasuke nods as Naruto exits the place. The village seems smaller than five years ago, or does it seem far? Naruto tries to find a hint of happiness in his soul, but he can't. His heart isn't any lighter than what it has been, but for some uncertain reason, he is sure he made the right choice. It's time he moves on as well.