Archive of Our Own

“Okay, Naruto,” Sakura says, hands slamming down onto the table. Several splinters fly from the wood. Sasuke does not imagine those same hands running down his spine.

“Gah!” Naruto says. “Sakura, I’m eating!”

Sakura, unsurprisingly, is unimpressed by this protest. “You’re always eating,” she says. “I’m pretty sure your chakra is made out of ramen.”

“Ramen is powerful!” Naruto defends.

“It’s—” Sakura begins.

“Ahem,” Ino interrupts.

“Right,” Sakura says, flicking a quick, embarrassed glance at Ino. She looks back at Naruto, brushing aside the loose sawdust coating the desk. “We’re here to talk to you about Gaara.”

Naruto brightens, ramen-related objections forgotten. “Oh, yeah? What about Gaara?” His eyes suddenly go suspicious. “Are you girls trying to hijack my sparring partner when he comes to visit?”

Ino rolls her eyes so hard that Sasuke thinks he can hear their movement. It’s unfortunate that she had such a grating personality as a child, he thinks, or else they may have been better friends, commiserating over mutual exasperation.

Then again, he wasn’t known for his tolerance when he was twelve.

“No, duh,” Sakura says. Her tone is long-suffering. Sasuke’s heard it a lot in his life; mostly used against Naruto, and sometimes against Kakashi or Jiraiya. Even himself, once or twice, but it’s a lot rarer.

Sasuke doesn’t pursue that thought.

“Why would we do that?” Sakura continues.

“If anything, we’re trying to upgrade him,” Ino says.

Ah. Sasuke can see where this is going.

“To what?” Naruto asks, bemused. “He’s already the Kazekage…”

It’s a miracle Ino doesn’t snatch up some chopsticks to prod him in the eye. “Upgrade to you, idiot,” she snaps.

Naruto gives Sakura a confused look.

“Ino means upgrade to partner,” she explains. “Drop the sparring.”

“I like sparring with Gaara, though…” Naruto says, pouting a little.

“For the love of—” Ino starts, before Sakura interrupts.

“Dating!” she says. “Partner like dating. Like – like – ”

“Like girlfriend,” Naruto supplies.

“Yes!” Sakura says. “Except. Well. Boyfriend.”

Naruto mulls this over. Sasuke can see the second it hits him properly; his cheeks go bright pink, slowly rising through his face. It creeps up his neck, all the way to the top of his ears, an oil spill of flustered affection.

“Gwaaaaah!” Naruto says, then drops his face into his hands.

Ino and Sakura exchange a glance over his head. Then Sakura puts her hand on his shoulder.

“Naruto?” Sakura checks.

“Boyfriend,” Naruto wails.

Sasuke steps forward. Sakura meets his eyes (widening slightly—surprise. Crinkling a little—something pleased, welcoming. Widening again—asking what to do. Sasuke sometimes thinks that no matter where in the world he finds himself cast by the winds, he will always know how to read two sets of eyes: one green, one blue.) in askance, and he tilts his head. Give him a moment.

“Yes, boyfriend,” Sakura says.

Naruto finally looks up. His cheeks are still stained pink, eyes bright, blue. “Do you really think he’d want to?”

Sakura stares at him for a long moment. Ino, across from her, looks similarly thunderstruck.

Evidently, neither of them were prepared for having to explain to Naruto that his vibrant, too-obvious affection for Gaara (of all people) was returned just as earnestly. Sasuke gets it, kind of, in that it’s really not the kind of thing that needs explaining, but like.

It’s Naruto. He’s an idiot. They should have expected this.

“Yes,” Sasuke says, making his presence known to his best friend. “He has terrible taste. Obviously.”

“Hey!” Naruto complains, but his eyes are shining. Sasuke thinks he gets it and feels suddenly, quietly pleased. Things have changed over time, sure, but some things stay the same. Some things, even Sasuke doesn’t know how to lose.

Knowing how to get something through to his best friend is still one of them.

Somehow, it becomes a Whole Thing™.

“What are you even talking about, Chouji?” Ino demands. Her hands are on her hips, her ponytail swinging behind her. Akamaru is eyeing it with interest.

“Chouji has a point,” Lee says. This is said with gusto, though Sasuke supposes it would be more of a surprise if it wasn’t, considering the speaker in question.

“No, I think Ino’s right,” Sakura says. “Food would work on Naruto, but…”

“Gaara is less driven by base impulses,” Sai says, nodding.

Shino turns on him. “Whose side are you on?”

Sasuke has never really spoken to Shino before. He knows he’s from the Aburame clan, and that means he’s powerful even when he’s strange, and he knows that he and Naruto have some sort of ongoing feud, but Sakura’s never been worried about it, so Sasuke hasn’t bothered to pay attention either. Naruto has a habit of collecting rivals wherever he goes—some of whom are literal children—so usually Sasuke relies on Sakura’s judgement for whether or not it’s worth him paying attention to them.

So when Shino asks that, Sasuke’s not really sure if he means it in a combative way—implying that there is a line to be drawn in the sand between Ino and Chouji, like warfare is the only solution to the apparently-divisive issue of how to seduce the Kazekage—or if he’s just trying to clarify Sai’s stance.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t really matter. Ino makes that decision for them.

“The girls’, obviously,” she says, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. Akamaru’s tail wags as he tracks the movement.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Shikamaru says, raising his hands in front of his chest. “Let’s take it down a notch.”

“So you disagree with Chouji?!” Lee demands, sounding aghast. Sasuke feels like he can hear capital letters in his voice. It’s like being around a Naruto who knows how to use punctuation and decides to emphasise it even further. He can feel a headache forming.

“That’s not what I said,” Shikamaru mutters. Ino hears his protest.

“Shikamaru, you can’t honestly think Gaara is going to be seduced by his stomach,” she says scornfully.

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Chouji says, “It would work on me!”

“No offence, Chouji, but we all knew that,” Tenten says, smiling a little apologetically. “But that’s not really—”

“Let’s make a challenge!” Lee proposes. “We’ll figure out a plan, you figure out a plan, and whoever’s plan is best wins!”

“What are these teams?” Kiba asks from where he’s sitting in the corner, Hinata’s hair between his fingers. Sasuke peers at him. Is he – is he braiding her hair? Beside them, Neji is sitting with the posture of uncracked vellum—stiff and upright, his only concession to motion his eyes as they track the movement of Kiba’s hands.

“Boys versus girls?” suggests Tenten, tilting her head.

Neji’s expression flickers, shifting from his usual mild reproof towards active dismay. Hinata shoots him a sidelong glance, biting her lip in concern.

Kiba is less delicate about it. “What? But half of you are knuckleheads,” he complains, gesturing at Lee and Chouji.

“Works for me,” Ino says, smirking. “Come on, girls, let’s go get some advice from someone experienced.”

Sasuke meets Sakura’s eyes. He has a bad feeling about this.

… As per usual, his instincts were correct.

(In the back of his head, Shisui and Itachi-nii exchange loaded glances. Didn’t you once throw a shuriken at your mother’s favourite vase because you thought there was an intruder and it turned out to be a cat? Shisui wants to know.

To be fair, the cat was an intruder, Itachi-nii says.

Sasuke hates his family.)

They’re in the Hokage’s office. Tsunade seems entirely too pleased with the interruption, by Sasuke’s estimation; from the look on Shizune’s face, she agrees.

“Lady Tsunade,” Shizune says. It’s pointed, but acceptably so; the kind of balance that Naruto could never pull off and that Sasuke would never want to, but Kakashi or Sakura might employ.

Tsunade, predictably, ignores this.

“Lady Tsunade,” Shizune says again.

“I think he should go for flowers,” Ino says.

“Well, yeah, of course you do,” Shikamaru murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sasuke is unfortunately reminded of the last time Ino made this suggestion, about ten minutes before the Great Food Division of their generation of shinobi. It went something like this:

INO: Obviously, you should get flowers.

TENTEN: Ooh, and you could help him choose good ones!

CHOUJI: Hmm… (munching on chips — Sasuke, for the record, has no idea where he produced them from, because they certainly weren’t there a minute ago)

INO: What? It’s a good idea!

SHIKAMARU: (muttering) He didn’t actually disagree.

INO: (ignoring the interruption) After all, I see Asuma-sensei getting them for Kurenai-sensei aaaaaaaaall the time. And we know that’s worked.

KIBA: I dunno if Naruto wants to knock up Gaara, though.

THE GIRLS IN CHORUS: What?

SAKURA: Okay, clearly that’s not what Ino was saying, though!

SHIKAMARU: I also don’t think it was the flowers that sealed the deal there.

CHOUJI: (whispering to Lee) Shikamaru’s a romantic, really.

So, yeah. Sasuke could do without a repeat.

“Flowers are a great idea,” Kurenai says. She’s rocking Mirai to her chest, little tufts of black hair sprouting from the yellow swaddle.

Naruto once asked Sasuke if Kurenai was his cousin. Shikamaru had probably aged ten years over the course of the conversation. At one point, Iruka was called in to try explain how genetics worked. This is how they discovered Naruto was under the impression that Lee was Gai’s son.

It was a terrible conversation for all involved.

Kiba, watching the baby-rocking, shoots Ino and Naruto pointed looks, like, see? Flowers lead to babies.

Ino scowls deeply at him.

“Hmm,” Tsunade muses. “Jiraiya never brought me flowers…”

Sasuke stares at her for a moment, thrown. Even with her soft spot for Naruto, the Hokage getting actively involved with this is just ridiculous.

“He probably would have if he’d thought it would help,” Shizune says practically.

“Are you suggesting I’m difficult to please?” Tsunade asks archly.

“I’m suggesting you know your own heart and mind, and nobody has ever questioned that,” Shizune replies.

Tsunade blinks at her. Sakura shifts, her skirt rustling as she moves. She’s looking at Tsunade with an expression Sasuke hasn’t seen on her face for a long time: a wary thing, like gauging the sharpness of a trapped tanuki’s claws.

“Dan used to take me dancing,” Tsunade says finally. Her voice is faraway, wistful. It’s not something Sasuke tends to associate with the Fifth Hokage, with her fierce opinions and disgruntled approach to paperwork. Her fingers are playing with her necklace, tugging the pendant until the chain goes taut.

Shikamaru looks up from where he’s been poking lightly at Mirai’s forehead to exchange a dubious look with Ino and Chouji, but it’s Kiba who frowns and says frankly, “I bet Naruto can’t dance.”

“Oi!” Naruto says, shooting up from where he’s been slouching in the chair in front of Tsunade. He gives Sasuke an indignant look, like, can you believe this?!

Sasuke frowns at him. He hadn’t thought Naruto could either—who would have had the patience to show him?—but they were apart for a while… Hm. Sasuke shoots a questioning look at Sakura, who shrugs back at him. She doesn’t think so either. Okay.

“Well, can you?” Sasuke asks, raising an eyebrow.

Naruto flushes. “Not the point,” he grumbles, crossing his arms again. Still, Sasuke knows him. He can see that beneath the pink and pouting, there’s that shine to his eyes that means he’s a little pleased, despite himself.

Probably because Sasuke’s actually talking. Naruto has many opinions about Sasuke’s reacclimatisation to village life, most of which he shares openly and loudly with no care as to who may be listening. It’s really annoying. A frequent one he expresses is that Sasuke is ‘too insular’ (Sasuke is yet to determine who taught him that word) and ‘weird and off-putting’ (this one, Sasuke can tell is straight from his own brain) and ‘hard for people to talk to’ (Sasuke doesn’t think he’s changed that much from when he was twelve, and everyone bothered him just fine back then, but whatever).

“Okay, so either Naruto learns how to dance real quick or it’s flowers, right?” Kiba checks.

“But Kurenai-sensei, you like food too, right?” Chouji asks.

The look she gives him is fond, the sort of thing Shisui would shoot at Sasuke when he was younger. Granted, Sasuke thinks it’s less embarrassing to receive at six rather than sixteen, but Chouji looks pleased to have it aimed at him.

“I do,” she says, a laugh in her voice. She reaches out to ruffle his hair, and he leans towards her, just to give her easier access.

It’s a strange sight for Sasuke, who hasn’t leaned into a touch easily since he was seven. Up until six months ago, the only person that had hugged him in nine years was Sakura, after all. But here Chouji goes, moving so easily, like – like it’s normal.

Maybe it is.

Sasuke supposes he doesn’t really know what that’s like.

“I think everyone likes food—” Ino is arguing, when Hiashi Hyuuga, of all people, enters the Hokage’s office.

He blinks at them all. Sasuke spares a moment to be thankful that Hinata and Neji both ended up—admittedly inevitable; wherever Hinata had gone, as far as Sasuke understands, Neji would have followed—with the others, seeking out advice and input further afield. Whilst Sasuke does not care for the Hyuuga clan in general, and especially finds the rigid formality of the Clan Head stifling, he can’t imagine that Hiashi’s expression would be any less severe if he were to find his daughter and her sworn here too.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he says stiffly, eyes sweeping over all the occupants in the room on his way to Tsunade. He’s too well-mannered to allow his eyebrows to raise, Sasuke thinks, but there’s still something skeptical in the lines of his face as he meets the Godaime’s gaze. “I require an audience with the Hokage.”

For a beat, everyone is still.

Sasuke doesn’t want to be here—indeed, he thinks it’s ridiculous that Tsunade even entertained this—but there’s a reclacitrant streak in him a mile wide, and he contemplates digging his heels in.

(You have such a winning personality, Shisui says in the back of his head. His eyes are crinkling with that same fondness that lined Kurenai’s eyes when she looked at Chouji, and when he shakes his head, Sasuke is six years old again, satisfied by the affectionate teasing of someone so important to his brother.

Don’t tease him, Itachi-nii chides, but there’s a laugh in the lines of his face as he says it. Sasuke wishes—suddenly, desperately—that he were seeing it in person right now, tracking the way amusement looks on a face so often turned to solemnity. You would do the same.

Shisui shrugs. I’m an excellent role model, he says, and then Sasuke blinks them away. It’s easier, sometimes, not to let himself remember them too much, lest he miss them more than he can bear.)

Then Shizune pounces on the opportunity provided by Hiashi’s intrusion.

“Of course, Hyuuga-sama,” she says, bowing her head quickly. “I’m sure everyone would be happy to give you the opportunity to seek the Hokage’s counsel.” A beat. Tsunade looks like she wants to argue. “Alone.”

That clicks in some of their heads. Shikamaru stops ruffling Mirai’s hair, Ino grabs him and Chouji by the wrists, and Kiba offers Kurenai the small blanket Mirai flung after Shikamaru’s head. Sakura tugs at Naruto’s shirt collar and he scrambles to his feet, giving Hiashi a lazy salute as they leave that makes Shizune mutter a prayer. Sasuke saunters after them, giving Hiashi a wide berth as he goes.

“I apologise for not making an appointment,” Sasuke hears Hiashi saying dryly as he dips through the door. “I did not anticipate your schedule to be so occupied by children.”

They’re not children, he thinks. They haven’t been for a long time.

“Oi, hurry up!” Naruto calls out, and Sasuke glances over to where Naruto and Sakura are standing beneath the cherry wood tree. A little further away, the other four are waving to Kurenai and Mirai, but his gaze returns easily to his best friends. Naruto’s hands are cupped around his lips, as if he’s not already the loudest thing in Konoha, and Sakura’s got one hand on Naruto’s shoulder like a leverage point, pushing herself up a little to wave at Sasuke.

They’re not children anymore, he thinks again, lips curving as he steps closer to his friends, but sometimes –

Sometimes, they get to be.

Sasuke doesn’t think he’s seen Iruka since he came back to the village, so it’s a little bit of a time capsule to see him suddenly.

Actually.

When they were six, before Sasuke’s world exploded before his feet, Iruka had gotten their whole class at the academy to contribute some things to a box he buried somewhere below the biggest oak tree on the school grounds. Naruto had tried to put in ramen, which at the time Sasuke had thought was incredibly stupid, but he now realises is probably because Naruto didn’t have anything else to give his older self. He thinks Sakura had written a letter—she’d spent an entire class period with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth like she did when she was concentrating on making her handwriting pristine, the way she did every year she gave him a Valentine—and Kiba had argued with Iruka about putting in dog treats until Iruka had just taught him how to make an origami dog instead.

Itachi had helped Sasuke with his contribution. Okaasan had delighted over it and made the kind of encouraging noises that a young Sasuke had built himself on, and Shisui had praised his clean linework, and even his father had looked at it before Sasuke had to go to school that day and ruffled Sasuke’s hair. It looks good, Sasuke, he’d said. I look forward to you uncovering it later.

Sasuke hasn’t thought about that in years. He wonders if it’s still buried — if it’s survived the times of strife the Leaf has been put through in the years since.

Maybe, one day, he’ll ask.

“Oh, good,” Naruto announces, hands on his hips as he approaches Iruka, sitting on a bench Sasuke vaguely remembers him frequenting with Naruto during their childhood. “You’re both here!”

Definitely not today, though. Not with this much nonsense to contend with already.

Iruka gives Naruto a startled look. “Both?” he echoes, then registers the ensemble Naruto’s dragged with him. “Oh, wow. Hi everyone.”

His gaze rests on Sasuke a moment longer than anyone else, but he doesn’t say anything. Sakura steps a little closer anyway. That makes Iruka’s eyes crinkle a little, which —

Sasuke’s not going to think about it.

“Yeah,” Naruto says, nodding emphatically, then flicking his gaze upwards. “Both.”

They all look up at the same time as Iruka, which means Sasuke misses whatever Iruka’s face does in response to seeing Kakashi sitting on a tree branch reading his stupid porn. The “Oh my god,” that follows, however, is pretty unmistakeable.

“Kakashi-sensei’s like a cat,” Naruto, apparently unruffled, tells Iruka cheerfully. “If cats liked shitty books, anyway.”

“Excuse you,” Kakashi says. “Icha Icha is a literary phenomenon.”

Sasuke, Sakura and Naruto all roll their eyes in unison. They’ve lost the ShikaInoCho trio—they agreed to quiz their fathers, dragging Hinata and Neji with them, but in their place, Naruto’s squadron of nonsense have managed to accumulate Sai and Shino, with Kiba going off with Tenten and Lee to try find Gai, apparently—which is probably the only thing saving Kakashi from Ino’s loudmouthed opinions on that.

“Whatever, sensei,” Naruto says with all the glib irreverence of a boy who has considered the Copy-Nin as family since he was twelve. “Anyway, I need your help.” Then he scrunches up his nose and looks at Sakura. “Wait, do I?”

Sakura shrugs. “He does read those books a lot,” she says thoughtfully. “He might have a useful insight.”

“I am right here,” Kakashi says dryly.

“We can see you,” Sai assures him. Sasuke tamps down the urge to groan into his palms.

“We are in need of your professional input,” Shino says. “Why? Because Naruto wishes to pursue a relationship with the Kazekage.”

While Kakashi and Iruka are busy blinking at this, Sai tacks on, “And his instincts are subpar and pathetic, so we are seeking further guidance.”

“Oi!” Naruto says, outraged. “Sai!”

As far as Sasuke is aware, Iruka doesn’t know Sai, but maybe all his years in the academy have given him some sort of sense for when a situation is going to devolve. Whatever it is, Iruka intervenes.

“You’re going to confess to Gaara, Naruto-kun?” he asks. The last time Sasuke saw Iruka’s eyes this warm, he was ready to collapse from pride and relief when their class—so probably mostly Naruto—actually graduated the academy.

Naruto flushes, Sai immediately forgotten. “Maybe,” he says, dragging his foot across the ground in a sweeping motion, as if he’s ever been shy in his fucking life.

“You are,” Sasuke says. Everyone blinks at him, but he continues: “This has taken literally all day. If you don’t confess to him, I’ll break your nose.”

“As if you could!” Naruto retorts, huffy, but there’s something easier about the line of his shoulders now.

“Sasuke could,” Sai assesses. “However, this whole future is predicated on your cowardice, so—”

“I’m not a coward!” Naruto snaps, indignant. He looks at Sakura, who gives him a sharp, reassuring nod back.

Above their heads, Sasuke is aware of Kakashi’s amusement as he takes in the scene.

“I am going to confess!” Naruto declares. “And it’ll be the best confession ever. Gaara will forget what sand even is, he’ll be so impressed.”

“Wow,” Kakashi says mildly. “That is very impressive.”

Shino is less obliging. “This is unlikely,” he points out. “Why? Because Gaara is the Kazekage of the Sand. He carries a gourd of it around with him everywhere. You are very distracting, Naruto, but he possesses great situational awareness.”

Before Naruto can argue—how, Sasuke’s not entirely sure, given Shino’s definitely right, but he’d find a way—Iruka says, “I think Gaara will be impressed, definitely, but I think even more importantly, he’ll be touched.” He gives Naruto a gentle smile. “That’s the key part, right? That he likes it?”

“Right,” Naruto agrees, looking a little abashed. He bites his lip. “Iruka-sensei, I’m not sure what I should do.”

“Indeed, there was dissent found amidst our ranks,” Shino says.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. Sakura answers, “Ino said he should use flowers, and Chouji was saying food. Lee was on his side, Kurenai was somewhere in the middle, and Lady Tsunade mentioned dancing…” She trails off, clearly running through the events of the day in her mind. Sasuke thinks she should tell them about her managing to get splinters in Naruto’s morning ramen.

“Wow,” Kakashi says again. He slips down from the tree, landing gracefully on his feet. His book is still open in his hand, because of course it is. “Even the Hokage, huh.”

Sasuke scoffs. At Kakashi’s look, he goes, “Tch.”

Kakashi nods in understanding.

“Is that what constitutes conversation with your—never mind,” Iruka says, cutting himself off with a mutter. He ceases shaking his head at Kakashi to look at Naruto. “Listen to me, Naruto,” he says, holding out his hands. Naruto takes them. “These are all good ideas, and I’m sure any of them would work. The thing that matters, really, is that whatever you do is right for you.”

Sakura makes a face at Sasuke. He’s pretty sure they’re imagining roughly the same thing—Naruto providing ramen, a proposal, and a sparring request, not in any particular order—and begs to differ with Iruka.

“You should use your words,” Kakashi adds in. “Ichiraku is fine—”

“Ichiraku is great,” Naruto corrects.

“—but it’s not any different to usual,” Kakashi points out. “You’re going to have to tell him how you feel.”

Naruto’s lips twist down in the expression that means he’s thinking really hard, as if he’s internalising a really complicated situation in his head. As if this actually requires a plan.

“Don’t make that face,” Sasuke scolds. “Yelling about your feelings is your primary personality trait.”

Sakura catches Naruto’s hand before he can drive it into Sasuke’s ribs, and ignores his indignant squawk. She gives Sasuke an unimpressed look, before turning back to Naruto and saying, “What he means is, just say it from the heart. You’ve always meant the most to Gaara when you do.” She grins at him, bright as the sun over Konoha, its light streaming through the leaves. “You’ve asked me out a thousand times,” she teases, and Naruto squawks, cheeks pink. “You can do it again just this once, when it really matters, right?”

For a second, Naruto searches her face. In his peripheral vision, Sasuke can see Sai open his mouth. Discreetly, Shino steps on his foot. Sai closes his mouth.

Sakura holds out a fist, smile unwavering.

“Right!” Naruto agrees, expression clearing. He presses his own knuckles against Sakura’s, beaming at her. “Totally! I’ve got this!”

Iruka’s eyes are a little misty, but it’s Kakashi’s that Sasuke finds himself seeking out. They’re crinkling at the corners, those familiar half-moons that mean he’s smiling before he meets Sasuke’s gaze. He tilts his head, then nods. Look, he seems to say to Sasuke. They’re still this way.

It’s always been a marvel to Sasuke, even before he left. He presumes it’s the same for Sai; he knows it’s the same for Kakashi, has seen it in the way his eyes would follow Sakura and Naruto as they chattered about nonsense when they were younger, fondness and bemusement scrawled all over his face. Well, the quarter of it that Sasuke was permitted to see, anyway.

It’s like, no matter what happens, there’s something unquenchable about the pair of them. An irrepressible streak of faith, like whatever the world throws at them, they’ve already got their chins set, ready to stagger back to their feet. Naruto doesn’t know how to give up or let go, fiercely and ferociously loyal, and Sasuke might never have made it back without that insistent hand always ready to drag him back; Sakura’s strength is praised, and rightfully so, but Sasuke thinks the most impressive thing about her is actually her heart: steadfast, unflinching, capable of the sort of rare forgiveness that still sticks in Sasuke’s throat.

And here they go: instead of thinking about all the ways it could go wrong—all the ways holding out their hearts in their hands has backfired on them, all the ways their vulnerabilities have been knocked down—they’re ready to do it again; not just ready, but raring to go. Naruto’s bright grin, his re-established confidence, and Sakura’s confident nod, like she’s never doubted him for a second.

She probably hasn’t. That’s the thing about Naruto: everyone in Konoha’s learned not to underestimate him, blazing light that he is, and Sakura’s always been a quicker study than most. Her faith is not a shock. She’s believed in more difficult things before.

“Is it a national incident if Naruto kisses the Kazekage?” Sai inquires, and just like that, Naruto could pass as a lobster. A spluttering, egregiously blonde lobster, but – red, all the same.

Sakura sighs, grinding the heel of her palm into her eye. “Sai…”

Salvation comes from an unexpected corner. “No,” Shino says, surprisingly firmly. “Why? Because Naruto would not do what Gaara would mislike.” He casts Naruto an appraising look, then says, “They trust each other very much. Gaara has spoken of this to me.”

“Wha—!” Naruto exclaims, clearly ready to chase that rabbit down an unnecessary hole.

Evidently realising this, Sakura quickly asks, “What would you do, Kakashi-sensei?” At Kakashi’s blink, she corrects herself: “Okay, maybe not you, but—do you think he leads with the confession, or with the food or flowers or other bait?”

“You make it sound like a mouse trap, Sakura,” Kakashi says, amused. “This isn’t really my forte…” He glances at the book in his hand, visibly brightening. “But Icha Icha always says—”

“Kakashi-san, you can’t recommend Icha Icha to seduce the Kazekage,” Iruka says, sounding vaguely appalled.

“Well, not exactly,” Kakashi says, then shrugs at the assorted crew before him. The look in his visible eye is enough to set Sasuke on edge: something terrible is undoubtedly coming. “He doesn’t need the books when the master himself is currently in the village, right?”

“Ero-sennin!” Naruto hollers.

Jiraiya looks over at them. Sasuke thinks that he should probably just stop answering to an address like that, but whatever. Bigger fish to fry.

Such as the fact that Jiraiya is not alone. Neji and Hinata are with him—no sign of the other three they were with, though—and, inexplicably, the Sarutobi kid that follows Naruto around and does his stupid jutsu.

“Jiraiya-sensei being around Konohamaru is a terrible idea,” Sakura mutters.

Shino immediately peels off from their pack to retrieve and reconvene with Hinata, the pair of them stepping a few paces away. It’s kind of a relief. Sasuke’s not exactly interested in protecting the sanctity of anyone’s sensibilities, but he remembers Hinata’s tendencies of fainting around Naruto before he left the village. He doesn’t want a repeat. Even if Hinata’s gotten more normal around Naruto—low bar, but Sasuke supposes he doesn’t exactly have a leg to stand on when it comes to mandating socially appropriate behaviour—he can’t imagine exposing her to an extended conversation with Naruto, Jiraiya and Naruto’s pervy little protégé would go well.

Then again, maybe Neji would put them all out of their misery. Could be worth it.

“Naruto,” Jiraiya greets. “And friends, I see. What’s this I hear about relationship woes?”

“That’s an exaggerated interpretation of what I said,” Neji mutters at the same time that Naruto clutches his hand to his chest and says, “It’s dire, sensei. Like I could die.”

Sakura whacks him upside the head. “What happened to your grand declaration?” she demands.

“Right,” Naruto says, nodding. “I forgot.” Sasuke and Sakura pin him with twin exasperated looks. It’s only been ten minutes. “Okay, Ero-sennin, no woes! Just — Sakura-chan, what’s it called?”

“Outsourcing?” she tries.

“No, no,” he says, waving that off. “Well, okay, that too, but – the other one.”

“Bothering the entire village,” Sasuke supplies.

“This is why you don’t have many friends,” Naruto says loftily, pointing an accusatory finger at Sasuke. “Looking at it like that.”

“How would you characterise it?” Sai asks, curious.

“Teamwork!”

“Surveying,” Neji interrupts, looking vaguely harassed.

“Exactly!” Naruto says, delighted. “See, Sasuke, Neji knows. Exactly. Ero-sennin, we’re surveying.”

“I see,” Jiraiya says, amused. “Okay, then. Survey away.”

Sakura suddenly looks apprehensive, and even Naruto looks like he’s second-guessing this plan, but then Naruto’s little acolyte jumps up and says, “Nii-chan, nii-chan! Are you taking Sakura out on a date?!”

Sasuke stiffens.

“No!” Naruto says, waving his hands in front of him in dissuasion. “Not – well, not anybody yet…”

The kid gives Naruto a reassuring pat on his back. “It’s okay, nii-chan,” he says bracingly. “She’s not the only hottie out there!”

Is Sasuke’s eye twitching? He thinks it’s twitching.

“And even if she’s a babe, she—”

“Okaaaaaaaaaay,” Jiraiya says, planting a hand over the brat’s mouth with a placid smile. “That’s enough of that, I think.” Sasuke’s not entirely sure whose expression inspired the intervention—at this point, even Neji looks a little affronted—but he’s not complaining. “Listen, kid, let me give you some advice Naruto seems to have missed: Sakura’s the protégée of Tsunade—you know, the Hokage, right? Try not to piss either of them off. It won’t end well for you.”

“Yamato once told Naruto and I about how Tsunade almost killed Naruto’s dear Ero-sennin—” Sai says, ignoring Jiraiya’s don’t let that catch on!! in the background, “—by beating him up for his perverted ways.” He smiles. It’s just as unsettling as ever.

“This is all meaningless noise,” Shino says, apparently disapproving of the way the conversation went off the rails while he talked to Hinata. “Why? Because Naruto wishes to confess to the Kazekage, not Sakura.”

“Or the Hokage,” Sai chimes in.

“Doesn’t that speak for itself?!” Naruto demands, outraged.

Sai shrugs. Before Naruto can give himself an aneurysm or yell something about ‘Baachan’ that Sakura might get mad at him for, Sasuke intervenes.

“This is a bad survey,” he says bluntly, and Naruto forgets Sai to glare at him.

“Zip it! I’m getting there,” Naruto says. He turns back to Jiraiya, pointing at him for – Sasuke has no idea. Dramatic effect, probably. He tends to do that. “Okay! Your survey is…”

Naruto trails off, then looks at the rest of them as if he’s expecting something. They all stare at him incredulously. His expectant look grows more pronounced.

Shino waves his hand, and some of his insects escape his hood to fill the space between them. They start buzzing, in—

Sasuke frowns. Is that… a rhythm? A drum beat? Through insects?

“Close enough,” Naruto says, apparently satisfied. Sakura mutters something into her hands—probably a threat of violence—and Sasuke’s lips twitch. “Ero-sennin, your survey is… flowers or food?!”

Jiraiya blinks at him, evidently thrown. Sasuke doesn’t really blame him. With a lead-up like that, any normal person would expect something more important.

Then again, Jiraiya did teach Naruto for years. He should know better.

“For the Kazekage?” Jiraiya checks. “Your entire day of attempting a plan of attack for seducing the Kazekage can be boiled down to ‘flowers or food’?”

Naruto frowns. “Well, Sakura-chan said she has endless faith in my instincts and whatever I say will be right,” he says.

“I didn’t say that,” Sakura objects, at the same time that Sasuke snaps, “She didn’t say that,” and Sai says, “This is what they call exaggeration. I see.”

Naruto’s lower lip descends into what Sasuke once heard Kiba describe as that’s an embarrassment to pouts, you big baby, which was unfortunately an accurate descriptor.

Before he can unleash some sort of overly emotional barrage on them all, he is interrupted by the approach of new contenders. A rare reprieve in this village.

Then Sasuke observes the amount of green-clad legs in the approaching horde, and immediately takes it back.

This is much worse.

“Say, Naruto,” Maito Gai says, flashing that absurd grin at them all. “I hear you’re seeking out expertise on passion.”

Neji, somewhere to the left of Sasuke and Sakura, lets out a groan that rumbles low enough that Sasuke almost mistakes it for a doton.

Sasuke does a quick headcount, and briefly considers becoming a missing-nin again. Just to avoid this.

Hinata and Shino to the side, surrounded by Shino’s bugs; Kiba, splitting off from Tenten and Rock Lee to join them; Tenten appearing by Neji and Sai, making commiserating faces at the former; Naruto in the centre, still pointing at Jiraiya, whose hand has moved to ruffling Konohamaru’s hair instead of clamping itself over his mouth; Gai, standing before them in a power-pose, with Lee mimicking his position; and Sasuke, to the right of it all, and Sakura, who’s not close enough to touch, but – almost. If Sasuke shifted his weight, just so—

He tries not to think about it.

“Yes,” Jiraiya says, grinning at Gai. Sasuke has a sudden flash of dismay that this might be a vision of their future: Naruto and Rock Lee, ancient and decrepit, having impromptu surveys in the middle of the village about passion while Sasuke, Sakura and a handful of others observe unwillingly.

(Ancient and decrepit? echoes Shisui in his head. Gai’s barely thirty.

Jiraiya, at least, is in his fifties, Itachi-nii concedes. But decrepit is hardly what comes to mind.

And I awoke the Mangekyō at seven, so if any of us gets to drastically mess with age scales… Shisui adds on.

Fine. Whatever. Maybe not decrepit. Sasuke’s point still stands.)

“We’re trying to decide between flowers and food,” Naruto explains. “As the path to Gaara’s heart.”

Jiraiya hums. “Have you considered the bath house?”

“The—ero-sennin!!” Naruto splutters. He’s gone lobster again. Wonderful.

“Your advice cannot be to leer at the Kazekage! In the intimate sanctity of a bath house!” Neji hisses, evidently so appalled that his entire forehead is pinched.

“Young Naruto,” Gai says the way he says everything, meaning a proclamation to stand before the stars. Sasuke’s not really sure how he puts up with Kakashi’s relative lack of energy. “Why must you choose?” He sounds genuinely confused.

Naruto, clearly still recovering from Jiraiya’s single sentence, just blinks at him.

“You are in the springtime of your youth,” Gai continues, nodding sagely. “Food and flowers!”

Everyone pauses.

“Huh,” Sakura says.

“Oh…” Hinata murmurs in realisation.

Sasuke wants to step on an explosive tag. Did they all really waste half the day on a false dichotomy?

“That was not the original question,” pipes up Sasuke’s saviour: Rock Lee, of all people. “Chouji suggested food, as the stomach is a very noble and well-established route to one’s heart.” Gai nods, like, of course. “Ino was not as convinced, and the ensuing debate led to me throwing down the gauntlet of challenge.”

“There was also a side discussion about whether flowers were only for the purpose of impregnation,” Sai puts in. His serene expression is at odds with the collective choking that occurs in the wake of this statement.

“Mostly we’re looking for advice,” Sakura says quickly, before anyone can pick up that conversational thread once more. Sasuke is more at ease with her being his saviour in this terrible, terrible impromptu council. At least she is not wearing a green bodysuit.

(Sure, Shisui says. That’s it.

Itachi-nii elbows him in the side so Sasuke doesn’t have to.)

“Yeah, though we probably don’t need to sweat it this much,” Kiba says, shrugging. “I mean, Gaara’s got, like, what, three friends? It’s not like he’s going to know if Naruto’s being a weirdo about it.”

Sasuke almost chokes on a lung. Neji looks a little like he’s staring into an abyss. Konohamaru even pauses in his attempts to dislodge Jiraiya’s hand from his head.

“Kiba-kun!” Hinata scolds. It’s like a butterfly trying to tell off a wolf.

“Huh,” Naruto says.

If that’s what inspires Naruto enough to end this insanity, Sasuke’s going to throttle him.

“Weren’t we meant to do this in teams?” Tenten murmurs to Neji.

“Do not remind them of this,” Neji whispers back. Sasuke agrees.

“Well,” Gai says, rallying impressively. “You now have many options! And, as befitting a student of my dear rival, the endless spirit required to make any or even all of them reality!”

Sasuke and Sakura exchange a glance. Whilst Naruto’s indomitable spirit is not in doubt, Sasuke wouldn’t attribute that to Kakashi.

“You should pick soon,” Sai says helpfully. He glances up at the sky. “I believe Temari is due to arrive soon. I suspect you don’t want her to overhear your schemes to seduce her sibling.”

Everyone blinks at him.

“Why do you know that?” Sakura asks. “I don’t even know that, and Lady Tsunade—” She pauses, but Sasuke can guess how that sentence would end if not for Sakura’s loyalty to her mentor. After all, it’s hardly unidirectional. The whole village knows how much the Hokage trusts Sakura. It’s only reasonable to assume Tsunade normally tells her this kind of thing.

“Ino told me,” Sai says. “She says Shikamaru’s in a ‘state’ about it.” The awkward way in which Sai pronounces state gives Sasuke no doubt about Ino’s tone when she relayed this to him.

“Wait,” Konohamaru—of all people—suddenly pipes up. “Nii-chan, isn’t Temari the cool one? The hottie with the cool jutsu? Didn’t you say she’s the Kazekage’s sister? That’s who you like, right?”

“Right,” Naruto says faintly. He looks at Sakura, at Sasuke, a little – nervous.

“He might not be coming with her, Naruto!” Tenten reminds him, clearly going for encouraging. It is not very convincing—less a fault of Tenten’s ability to tone-correct, and more that one of the three things everyone knows about the Hidden Leaf is that the Kazekage pounces on any reason he can to visit. One time, Sakura told Sasuke last week, Naruto had made Kurama so mad that Kurama let him get sick for the first time, and Naruto was so pathetic about it that Gaara ran all the way from Suna to bring him a desert plant that the Sand considered a symbol of prosperity and health. Sasuke had stared at her in disbelief until Sakura prodded Kakashi awake from where he was napping on the Hokage desk and he’d vouched for the veracity of the claim.

“But even if he is…” Sakura says, then looks at Naruto. Smiles, that bright thing that always used to pick up Team Seven’s moods way back when. “You’ve got this, right?”

Sasuke says, looking at his best friend and smirking, “No backing down now.” He arches an eyebrow. “Unless you’re scared…”

“Fuck off,” Naruto says, but he’s snorting, and Sakura is rolling her eyes even as a fond smile creeps at her lips, and Sai is doing his half-moon-eyed smile, and Gai and Lee are proselytising the Power of Youth (Sasuke can hear the capital letters in their voices) to Konohamaru, and Jiraiya is mumbling something about an axis of perverts (Sasuke does not want to know), and Tenten and Neji are sighing at their sensei, and Hinata and Kiba are ribbing Shino about something or other, and it’s –

Good. This moment, despite all the absurdity that led to it, is good.

“Oi, Sakura!”

The group had all dispersed: Naruto to take a shower (Ino’s orders, once she investigated the commotion and discovered the rest of the Konoha 13… and then some) and find his wallet (a reminder from Kakashi, one of the aforementioned and then some), half of them to go bother Shikamaru because Ino said it would be funny, and the remaining few scattered in pockets of gambling on Naruto’s outcomes (nobody doubted his success, Sasuke had noticed; only how much he might embarrass himself on the way) or arguing the possible meanings of offering someone flowers (when Lee brought up knocking someone up and Kakashi followed that up with musing on how Gai delivered him flowers upon his ascension to Hokage, Sasuke had swiftly stopped listening)—and now Sasuke and Sakura are milling around the entrance to the village.

If anyone had asked why they’d ended up here, Sasuke would – probably not have answered, actually, but if he were to be pushed for one, he’d likely have said something about keeping an eye out for their incoming visitors.

The truth, he thinks, is maybe closer to this: a bench with more cracks in it than he remembers, but still strong enough to hold a young girl’s weight and not falter; a path leading out of the village, where only one person had known to try stop him; and steps he had taken that he cannot regret, not when it brought him back his brother, but. One path taken always means another left behind.

Perhaps that’s what he should have said to Naruto earlier. That whatever happens with Gaara, Naruto should take the path he can live with; he doesn’t have enough brain space for regrets, so. Naruto would have squawked at him, and swiped at him, and after some scuffling more suited to their genin days (though, technically, Sasuke supposes, they both still are), he’d have grinned at Sasuke, satisfied and ready.

Sasuke doesn’t know Gaara very well. He’s fought with him a few times, and at this point, Gaara might have done more to defend Sasuke’s own home than Sasuke himself, but – they haven’t really had much chance to chat. But Sasuke recognises strength, and he knows Gaara has it; trust, he’s less adept at recognising someone’s worth with it, but Naruto loves him, and Sakura and Kakashi at the very least like him, at the very least trust him, and that’s important too.

He hopes Gaara will be nice about whatever embarrassing confession Naruto whips up. Sasuke will hardly begrudge him some teasing—it’s probably necessary for balance in the universe—but anything more… Well. Sasuke already owes Kakashi several years worth of apologies, for all that neither of them ever acknowledge it. He guesses it’s fine if he has to add one for punching the head of state of another nation.

“Sakura!” the voice says again, and they both turn to face the entrance to the village: Sakura, going on her tip-toes to see what leaves she can reach of the tree beside them as she tells Sasuke about the time Kiba’s aunt challenged Kakashi to a tracking hunt; Sasuke, one arm outstretched, ready to offer Sakura balance if needed, as he listens and snorts and hums as the story requires.

“Kankurou!” Sakura says, startled. “Temari! It’s good to see you both again.” She raises an eyebrow. “Just the two of you?”

“What, you wanted us to bring all the bowing foot soldiers again?” Kankurou asks, scoffing.

Temari elbows him in the ribs. “Hey, Sakura,” she says, rolling her eyes at her brother. Her gaze finds Sasuke next: curious, a little wary, but not – apprehensive. Not afraid. “Long time since I saw you last,” she remarks.

“Hn.”

Sakura’s expression is exasperated, but Temari just snorts. “I guess Naruto talks enough for the both of them, right?” she says, looking to Sakura.

“He talks enough for everyone,” Kankurou grouses, but there’s no heat to it.

“Sasuke-kun says more than you’d think,” Sakura says. He glances at her—meets thoughtful eyes, lips quirked up in one corner. “You just have to know how to listen, is all.”

He looks at her for a long beat.

“I see,” Temari says. “Gaara is sometimes the same way—he can talk a lot about some subjects—” and here, she exchanges an exasperated look with Kankurou, “—but other times it’s like drawing water from stone.” She huffs, amused but fond, the way of an elder sibling: someone born into this world to wait for you, to love you. “This journey was not one of those times.”

Sasuke blinks. Sakura clarifies, “This journey? He came with you?”

“Like he’d miss it,” Kankurou says, rolling his eyes. “When have you ever known him to skip out on a trip here?”

“So…” Sakura trails off. Sasuke has no such patience.

“Where is he?” he asks, frowning. They’re a little ways into the village, but Gaara’s not exactly visibly subtle. It’s not like he could be camouflaged.

They shrug. “I don’t know,” Temari says. “With Naruto, I guess? He got excited and went ahead.”

Sakura’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline. Sasuke feels a headache forming.

Luckily, the familiar bickering noises of Ino, Shikamaru and Chouji—mostly Ino—fill the air, successfully diverting the siblings’ attention. Temari shifts, rearranging her travel pack on her back, and Kankurou snickers.

While Temari is jabbing him in the ribs, Sakura says, “Right. We’re gonna – go. Um. Finish our errands.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and Sakura huffs at him as she tugs him by the wrist, but neither sibling objects to their departure, too busy focusing on the incoming Shikamaru-and-co.

“Where do you think they are?” Sakura asks as they turn the corner.

Sasuke shrugs. “His apartment?”

Sakura looks horrified. “I think Lady Tsunade would kill him if he took a Kage there,” she says, harrowed. “Hm, Kakashi-sensei sent him to collect his wallet, right?”

With a hum, Sasuke switches direction, heading toward Ichiraku Ramen and brushing against Sakura’s fingertips as he does so. They’re – warm.

“You just missed them,” Teuchi calls when he sees them. He raises an eyebrow. “Assuming you’re looking for Naruto and his friend, that is.”

“Aa,” Sasuke assents, then looks at Sakura in askance. She’s got that look on her face, the one that means her mind’s going a mile a minute, and he knows better than to interrupt.

“So he’s got food,” she says. “He’ll want flowers, right?”

“We live in the Hidden Leaf, Sakura,” Sasuke points out dryly. There’s no shortage of foliage. She swats him lightly, brow still furrowed in thought. Then she snaps her fingers.

“There’s that patch of coreopsis he likes near the top of Hokage Rock,” she says, eyes lighting up.

Sasuke nods. “Let’s go.”

He’ll never tell Naruto this, but it’s actually… really sweet.

After some silent debate from behind a tree trunk—deciding whether it was safest to stay behind the trunk and peer from there, or chakra-walk up to the branches to watch from above, but risk rustling leaves—Sasuke and Sakura had, after spotting Naruto and Gaara’s extremely distinctive heads, crept up a large tree overlooking Naruto’s set-up and ensconced themselves amongst the branches.

Naruto’s got a blanket down over the grass, one that makes Sakura’s back straighten and her eyes shine.

“That’s his favourite one,” she whispers to Sasuke. “He put it down for me and Kakashi-sensei to sit on, that first time we were at his apartment, after…” She trails off, tilts her head. It’s okay. Sasuke knows. “Anyway,” she says, hushed, husky. “It’s important to him. The nicest thing he owned, back then.”

They glance back down, taking in Naruto’s spread: the blanket, upon which Gaara is sitting seiza and Naruto is cross-legged; a wicker basket that looks like Naruto borrowed it from the vegetable-peddler in the town market with three moles on her left cheek and a soft spot for Sakura the size of Suna; and from the basket, Naruto retrieves—

“Of course,” Sasuke mutters, but he’s smirking. He casts a sidelong glance at Sakura, watching as she visibly suppresses her giggles at the sight of the Ichiraku Ramen container being proudly brandished.

“The very best food in Konoha!” Naruto declares. He busies himself with the basket again, so Sasuke almost misses it when he adds, a little shyly, “For the very best company in Konoha…”

It’s a good thing they’re shinobi, Sasuke thinks, or else they’d probably miss the quiet, “Oh…” that escapes Gaara’s lips. His eyes haven’t left Naruto once, not even to examine the view he’s probably never seen before, and it’s like—

Sasuke wasn’t worried, all right? He doesn’t know Gaara as well as some of the others, but he’s met him enough times to know how much Naruto has changed him. His affection is quieter than Naruto’s—bright, too obvious, generally obnoxious—but no less earnest, no less clear. Even if Sasuke didn’t have working eyes, Sakura’s clear faith would have been enough for him, especially when backed up by Kakashi’s surety; and even if he’d had none of that, he’d still have bet on Naruto, because it’s Naruto. The only person who’s ever managed to not come around to his way of thinking eventually is Sakura (who’s just as stubborn as Naruto, Sasuke thinks, and ignores the way his knuckles itch and his cheeks burn; when they set their hearts on something, they’re unlikely to budge), and even with that, she’s still going to be at his side forever, just not the way a twelve year old Naruto had wanted.

So Sasuke wasn’t worried, but. If there were any phantom concerns left, they’re exorcised completely by the way Gaara’s eyes stay intently on Naruto, like he’s the only thing worth seeing.

“And! A-ha!” Naruto says triumphantly, bringing out two cans of terrible fruity soda with a wide grin. “To complement your meal.”

Gaara is smiling. An actual, visible-on-his-face smile. Wow.

(You understand the irony here, right, Shisui drawls in the back of his head. This is a glass house.

Itachi-nii doesn’t say anything, but he smiles that way he always did, when he agreed with Shisui but didn’t need to say it out loud for it to be known. Sasuke had found that expression so annoying when he was a kid, mostly because Sasuke usually disagreed with Shisui at the times of its employ. All these years on, turns out it’s still annoying.)

“Thank you,” Gaara says, accepting the proffered can. “This is a very pleasant outing, Naruto.”

Naruto’s ears are pink. “There’s flowers too,” he says, pointing behind Gaara to a copse where a concentrated patch of plants adorn the base of the trees within.

Obediently, Gaara looks. Naruto’s eyes catch on the small expanse of his neck displayed by the motion, and Sasuke has to try very hard not to rub his forehead in exasperation at the audible swallow that emerges from his best friend’s mouth.

“I see,” Gaara says, turning back to Naruto. “They’re lovely. Are they native?”

“Hmm? Oh,” Naruto says, snapping back to attention from where he was definitely being embarrassing about Gaara’s neck. Sasuke rolls his eyes. What is he, a vampire? Get it together. “Kinda,” Naruto says, then launches into an explanation clearly parroted from a Yamanaka that Sasuke loses interest in paying attention to approximately 0.3 seconds in, but Gaara’s attention never strays. He nods, hums, and tilts his head ever so slightly as he listens. Sasuke sort of feels like he’s watching the mating rituals of a puppet.

He glances at Sakura. She’s peeking through her fingers—he understands the sentiment; this is simultaneously a necessity that he watch, for Naruto’s sake, but also absolutely excruciating to sit through, because it’s Naruto—but her eyes stay fixed on them, partially-obscured as her vision may be. It reminds him, a little, of Sakura at twelve: desperately wanting to be involved, to belong, but too shy of her own abilities to really go for it. Then the Forest of Death happened.

It’s not like Sasuke misses the girl she was before that—she really improved by leaps and bounds as a shinobi during their disastrous exams, and somehow managed to keep her stubborn heart—so much as it is that the sudden flash of memory aches. They’re all a long way from where they were at twelve. It’s not a bad thing, mostly.

It’s just – strange, maybe. To think about how far they’ve all come, and the seeds of who they were at twelve, still buried deep within their ribs.

“Sasuke,” Sakura murmurs, and he blinks, refocuses.

“Mm?”

She’s looking at him now, biting her lip like she’s trying not to smile. Her cheeks are pink. Sasuke doesn’t need his clan’s eyesight to have the splash of colour burned into his memory. She doesn’t say anything further – just shakes her head, then juts her chin out, indicating where Naruto and Gaara are picnicking. The ramen container is between them, which Sasuke supposes might be considered romantic in most settings. He can’t imagine anything more dangerous than trying to share a bowl of ramen with Naruto, but – maybe that’s the trick.

Sasuke’s not sure he can imagine a more unshakeable demonstration of devotion from Naruto than being willing to share a bowl of Ichiraku Ramen. Even in the worst of his infatuation with Sakura, he was more likely to try finish her leftovers than offer her equal share of his own bowl.

Naruto is clearly steeling himself to say something. Sasuke recognises the tell-tale signs of a loudmouth amping himself up, and rolls his eyes. He can’t believe he’s missed even this part of the idiot’s personality.

“Say, Gaara, you know Sakura-chan?” Naruto eventually goes with.

Sasuke blinks, then looks at Sakura. She’s quietly groaning into her hands. “Why would he start like that?” she asks, exasperated.

“He’s a moron,” Sasuke says. Sakura reaches over and jabs him in the thigh, but not very hard, so she obviously doesn’t disagree.

“Indeed,” Gaara is saying below, eyeing Naruto curiously. “We’ve met many times. You were there.”

Sakura’s muttering against her palms grows more dismayed.

“Right, right,” Naruto says, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, so. Sakura-chan’s super smart, right? And I was having this problem—actually, she kinda gave me the problem, now that I think about it… huh… Sakura-chan, that’s sneaky…”

Sasuke reaches over towards her branch and puts a hand on her elbow, lest she be so tempted to scold Naruto that she jumps down on him. That, he suspects, could be considered an act of war, at least while Gaara’s in the firing line.

“Anyway, Sakura-chan’s totally sneaky but she’s also super smart, and she helped me with this problem. She was like, just talk! You always say the right thing!” (She did not say that. She’s not a good liar. Sasuke would have remembered.) “Believe in yourself! Follow your heart! Which, like, wow, that’s a lot of pressure, right? Like what if my heart’s bad at reading maps? But it made a lot of sense when she said it, so maybe it’s okay? Anyway, Gaara, I’ve been thinking about what it’s like when you come over. Like, the sparring.”

“I do enjoy sparring with you,” Gaara says, apparently unruffled from the rest of the deluge Naruto’s poured on his ears.

Naruto perks up. “Yeah?” he asks, preening. “Me too! Sparring with you is the best! I even thought those girls were trying to steal you as my sparring partner, which, no—”

“You don’t have to worry,” Gaara reassures, patting Naruto’s knee. “I wouldn’t let them.”

That puts a beam on Naruto’s face and in his voice and probably in his chakra too. Sasuke would need a Hyuuga to tell, but immediately dismisses that thought. Two of them in a tree trying to make sure Naruto doesn’t doom himself to a life of depressed ramen-eating is bad enough. A third—a Hyuuga, especially, with their intense sense of propriety—would be too much to cope with.

“You’re the best, Gaara, did you know that?” Naruto enthuses. He’s so busy prattling on that Sasuke is unsure if he realises how pink Gaara’s cheeks are; how endeared his smile. From the coo Sakura’s stifling on the branch beside him, Sasuke knows she didn’t miss it, at least. “Anyway, yeah! So. Sparring with you is basically my favourite, but then eating with you is also my favourite, and watering all the half-dead plants outside Kakashi-sensei’s apartment is always good but it’s best when I get to do it with you, y’know? I bet even paperwork would—okay, that would still be really bad, but I bet it wouldn’t be so bad if I got to do it with you!”

Wow.

Sakura’s eyes are shining, fist pressed against her mouth, like she’s holding in her heart. Sasuke kind of gets it. Naruto’s always been a persuasive guy once he gets going, but he might have outdone himself this time.

Gaara’s eyes are wide. He looks more like a tanuki than usual like this, the dark rings around his eyes making them even more striking against his face.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Gaara, is…” Naruto trails off, voice going a little raspy. Gaara offers him a can of soda, which Naruto takes and drinks eagerly. They’re so close, Sasuke notes. One of Naruto’s knees is almost touching Gaara’s, separated only by the ramen container between them.

There’s a thoughtful look on Gaara’s face as he examines Naruto. Then, with the sort of solemn sincerity Sasuke imagines is usually reserved for religious altars and proclamations of the daimyō: “Is this a date?”

Naruto promptly chokes on his soda, his knee knocking into the ramen. It would have spilled over them both if not for Gaara’s sand, quickly moving to steady it, soaking up any excess broth. At the same time, Sakura had gasped and even Sasuke’s breath had hitched; luckily, the sound of Naruto hacking up a lung was loud enough to disguise both.

“Gaara!” Naruto wails once he finally gets his breath back.

“Naruto,” Gaara returns, significantly more evenly. His ears are pink again, though.

“I was going to totally knock your socks off,” Naruto bemoans. Gaara’s feet—unsocked—twitch visibly. “You were going to be so impressed, you’d forget about sand, even!” He descends into mumbles, “Though Shino didn’t have faith in that…”

Gaara doesn’t have eyebrows—something Sasuke had been appalled by at twelve, because they were the second-most important facial feature for expressing disgust—but something about his browbone shifts: incremently higher as he tries to follow Naruto’s yabbering, and then lower, settling.

“I am impressed,” he says earnestly. It’s so sincere, even Sasuke’s breath gets dislodged in his lungs. Sakura looks like she’s watching one of those dramatic love scenes from the movies she and Ino chatter about sometimes, and Naruto—of course—looks three seconds away from becoming a blubbery mess. “Perhaps sand even slipped my mind for a moment,” he says, a little smile glimmering at the edges of his lips. “Sakura was right,” he says, then looks suddenly shy. “While I cannot comment on the worth of where your heart’s map has led,” he says, looking at Naruto through his eyelashes—Sakura reaches over and grips Sasuke’s hand, clearly overwhelmed with cuteness aggression, and he shifts a little to make it easier for her, “—if I’ve approximated its destination correctly, then I am – very happy.” The pleasured flush coursing through his cheeks is so deep, they resemble his own hair more than Sakura’s.

Sasuke is his best friend, so he’s allowed to say this, but Naruto’s pretty dumb sometimes. So he’s not shocked to watch his friend visibly buffer as he tries to make sense of what Gaara’s saying, but once he does—

“Gaara!” Naruto wails again, but this time he throws himself forward and tackles Gaara against the blanket.

“Oof!” is all Sasuke hears as Gaara goes down, but he watches red-clad arms hesitantly reach back around Naruto’s back.

“This is totally a date,” Naruto declares. “I mean, if you want it to be!” He configures them back up into a mostly upright position, but somehow he’s finangled himself beneath Gaara, and Gaara’s half on his lap. The Kazekage’s face is almost exactly the same shade as his hair now, but there’s no mistaking the pleased quirk to his lips.

“Yes,” he says. “I… would like that.” A beat. “I like spending time with you,” he says, and Sasuke can’t see the boy who almost killed them all once, nor the boy who convinced the Sand to follow him, nor the boy who threw the entire weight of his voice as Kage behind the Leaf when Sasuke came back, standing alongside them as they slowly convinced all the other Hidden Villages the danger was gone.

All Sasuke can see is Gaara, a boy who likes plants and making weird friends and Naruto, so much that his face can’t contain the force of his affection. All Sasuke can see is a boy who makes his friend so happy it’s embarrassing, and who likes him back just as much.

“I really like you,” Naruto says earnestly. His fingers are clumsy as they make their way to Gaara’s hairline, sweeping over his mark (love, Sasuke remembers; love, Sakura mouths, her eyes following Naruto’s fingers with the kind of giddy pride Shisui used to have when Sasuke landed a kunai correctly after Itachi’s coaching; love, echoing in Naruto’s blazingly fond expression) before pushing back some of his hair, but Gaara tilts his head, leaning into Naruto’s palm anyway.

“You’re so pretty,” Naruto marvels, and Gaara blinks at him. Something clearly occurs to Naruto then, because his lips twist up at the side, the way they do when he’s trying really hard to think but he’s being distracted. Eventually, he manages, “Y’know, Sai asked something earlier.” He waves his free hand, the one not tucked in Gaara’s hair, before resting it on Gaara’s waist. “If… if it would be a – I don’t know, political scandal? National incident? If I … kiss—”

Gaara knocks him down, pressing their lips together, kissing Naruto so affectionately that they fall backwards, Naruto flat on his back with a lap full of Kazekage. He gets with the program very quickly, though, kissing Gaara back with an enthusiasm that makes Sasuke avert his eyes. Then he’s meeting Sakura’s gaze, and she’s – blushing, presumably from Naruto’s activities, and that’s – not better, actually. Everything is terrible. Naruto is making kissy noises and making out with a leader of a foreign nation and Sasuke is staring at Sakura, and she’s blushing. Pink, he thinks. Pink, pink, pink.

“Maybe,” Gaara says, finally breaking apart.

“Wha?” is Naruto’s intelligent, kiss-whammied response.

“I’m not sure the answer to Sai’s question,” Gaara elaborates. He sounds breathless. Sasuke glances down just long enough to determine they’re still clothed and he’s still on Naruto’s lap, then looks back at Sakura. He’s not sure it’s safer, but certainly less risk of scarring his psyche. “But…” He sounds shy, then – a little cheeky, maybe. If he’s even capable of that. “I am willing to find out.”

The happy little growl that escapes Naruto’s throat at that is pitched low enough that Sasuke wraps his hand around Sakura’s wrist, inclining his head behind them. He does not want to stick around for whatever follows that sound.

They make a break for it—descend the tree swiftly, silently, the sound of Naruto’s laughter and Gaara’s low murmurs interspersed with shy kisses being traded in their wake—and don’t stop running until they’re halfway across Konoha.

“Wow,” Sakura says when they come to a stop. His hand is still around her wrist. “That went – better than expected.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You started this,” he says dryly.

“I knew it would go down well, I just didn’t expect—” she starts, before cutting herself off, flushing. She looks back towards Hokage Rock, washed in pinks and golds by the setting sun. “Anyway. I’m glad it went well.”

“Mm,” Sasuke agrees. Then—semi-mortifyingly, but mostly infuriating, as the reason it’s been so long between meals is this nonsense—his stomach rumbles. Sakura bites back a laugh, then looks thoughtfully at the sky once more.

“Wanna get something to eat, Sasuke-kun?” she asks. It’s not a loaded question. There aren’t strings attached. It’s just a question. Still.

The silence stretches between them for a long moment, her expression not – faltering, but settling. He thinks about Naruto’s stumbling earnest efforts, his willingness to put himself out there over and over, and he thinks about Gaara cutting to the heart of it, his quiet smile, and he thinks about Sakura in the tree, squeezing his hand so tight the bones almost cracked, so happy was she for their best friend.

“Not ramen,” he says. It’s the smallest declaration anyone’s made all day, but you wouldn’t know it from her bright smile. Haruno Sakura, with her brave heart and easy forgiveness. These are rare miracles, see, to someone like Sasuke.

“Sure,” she agrees, falling in step with him as they head towards the village centre. The setting sun stretches out overhead, leading the way. “That sounds good to me.”