Chapter Text
Sitting around in his empty apartment had very quickly lost its appeal. During his post massacre academy and Genin days, a younger Uchiha Sasuke had blasted his white noise generator to the max, drowning out the pervasive silence that had become his new normal. Sitting around his empty apartment, an older Sasuke feels a brief flash of longing for the old device, now probably locked up in T&I as evidence for his many crimes.
Heaving a sigh, he gets to his feet, body uncharacteristically heavy and mind sluggish. He pads over on silent feet and opens his empty fridge. Having subsided off of an unsteady diet of chakra pills and past the date but not really expired food, even Sasuke can admit to himself that he’s not doing too great. His stomach sends another pang, a repeat of the last few hours he had spent lying on the couch, too lazy and bored to eat. Just his luck that now, today, at this exact fucking moment his fridge really had finally run dry when he’s this hungry and irritable, forcing him on a grocery run.
As it is, the anger hits Sasuke with the level of bad timing the universe usually reserves for him. Standing in the middle of Konoha’s marketplace, pretending to care about the quality of the tomato he’s holding in his hand, he suddenly feels a wave of rage. Although not abnormal, the level of anger he’s suddenly imbued with does feel a bit out of place for the setting Sasuke thinks absent mindedly. He sets the tomato down, shuffles his feet a bit, and takes a careful step away from the vegetable vendor. He’s mindful to keep his chakra steady and for his face to remain in its usual state as he walks away. After all it wouldn’t do to give the trigger happy anbu that tailed him another excuse to accost Kakashi about the dangers of Uchiha Sasuke Traitor Extraordinaire.
The wave of rage slowly dissipates as he moves through the market, weaving through wary civilians and on edge shinobi. Sasuke knows no one noticed his brief surge of rage, his poker face is better than that. The one person who would have noticed is too busy serving the fucking village to even see him—Sasuke stamps down on that thought as well. Avoiding his emotions, avoiding thinking of Naruto and the tangled mess he’s made of his life is an art form Sasuke has perfected over his depressing young adult life. He continues walking aimlessly through the bustling marketplace, peering disinterestedly through shops and avoiding eye contact with glaring vendors.
An image of young Naruto flashes in his head, lonely and shaking before civilians before Sasuke can smash the thought down. The old unfairness rears his head up from his chest again, wailing uselessly at the goddamn pointlessness of it all. That fool, despite the enduring hatred of Konoha civilians, had preserved and won their love. Sasuke on the other hand had somehow accomplished exactly the opposite, starting off with their love and admiration and now ending up like this. Not that Sasuke really cared though. Not that Sasuke really cared about anything anymore.
Sasuke is tired. No, weary, no…he’s tired. After the war, after the fight with Naruto, after his stint in Konoha’s prison he’s tired of the village and the constant reminder it represents. What’s the point of it all? He looks around, taking in the ebb and flow of the village, civilians bustling around him, anbu lurking on village rooftops, the village that his entire clan died for. No, Sasuke chastises himself, no thinking about his dead clan, dead parents, dead family, dead traditions or dead brother. No homicidal thoughts in the middle of the village. No lurking on the writhing, itchiness of his spirit trapped under his skin or the roaring unfairness of it all screaming inside his chest. No. Bad Sasuke, he thinks. No no no. He stomps on the rising whirlwind of thoughts with a practiced ruthlessness. He promised Naruto he’d try and trying meant not thinking about all that he’d lost.
The breeze shifts slightly, and without conscious thought his hand snaps up the scroll the messenger pigeon lobs at his head. Great, really great, exactly what Sasuke needs today. Another meeting with Kakashi, or with the elders, or any power hungry old, controlling asshole thinking they should have a say in the Last Uchiha’s life. He unfurls the scroll while thinking longingly about his rogue days. Sage knows Team Taka had been a headache and a half, and the less said about the Akatsuki the better, but Taka, annoying as they were, had never pissed him off to the levels this goddamn village did.
Withholding a sigh his ancestors would have been proud of, Sasuke summons all his dwindling patience to look at the contents of the scroll. Wow, who could’ve guessed? Another summon to the Hokage’s office for a meeting with the elders to once again discuss the future of the Uchiha Compound. Kakashi’s words, though brief, did contain a lot of information between the lines that Sasuke was grudgingly grateful for. Sasuke can extrapolate the unsaid from the said well enough. The elders want to take the sprawling land the Uchiha compound rested on and seize it for the good of the village or whatever the shit. Of course to the elders it's not enough that Sasuke spared—or was half coerced into sparing—their old worthless lives, but they want to take the Uchiha Compound from him. Apparently the fact that he was a “terrorist” or a “traitor” or whatever was enough reason to take his tragically dead family’s property. When they’d first proposed the idea, Sasuke had genuinely contemplated Amaterasuing them all and fucking off via the window. But now, months after the initial request they kept pushing and pushing. Sasuke might have earth shattering, sky destroying power, but of course politics was the thing that brought him to his knees. Godlike power notwithstanding, he didn’t exactly have the patience to explain to the elders for the hundredth time that no, the Uchiha compound's W2 forms had not been filed for over a decade. Why you may ask? Because they all got murdered by the power of Itachi's enduring, suffocating love for Sasuke. Why did Itachi do this, you ask? Because you old windbags bastards ordered him to, so really, it's your fault the extinct Uchiha clan's taxes aren’t in order. However if Sasuke really did let loose and say that, he’d also probably end up screaming at them on behalf of said brother and end up driving a chidori through all their chests.
Therefore, Sasuke continued to play along, pretending that no, he didn’t blame them for the culling of his clan and culture and that the Itachi sized secret that lay between them didn’t exist. Sasuke had sworn to cooperate with Konoha in a spurt of homosexual weakness for Naruto, so, as a man or his word, he sat through these meetings doing the mature thing by only visualizing shoving a chidori through the elders chests. Really, his character growth was phenomenal, Naruto should be proud or he would be if he ever came to visit Sasuke—okay. Sasuke shut down that line of thinking again.
The anbu tailing him has grown uncharacteristically shifty and Sasuke snaps back to himself, realizing the scroll is now crumpled in his hand. Ah. That’s probably not good for his village friendly, rehabilitated, former crazy enemy of the state image. Emphasis on the former. Hmm, yes, happy thoughts Sasuke tells himself as he begins to take small steps in the direction of the Hokage office. Happy thoughts. No thinking about his family’s eyes in Danzo’s arm, or Itachi’s short, painful life, or the spectacular way the village he lived in had failed every single man, woman and child of the Uchiha clan. Sasuke is distinctly reminded of Sakura’s snort of laughter as she declared him of sound mind. Well, Sasuke’s rarely in the business of lying to himself. He knows he probably does have a few screws loose—losing your entire family and then being tortured—what the hell Itachi—will do that to you, but really, he’s been holding it together pretty well.
A sunbeam between the buildings strikes his eyes perfectly and wow Sasuke hates this village he really does. Just the cherry on top, even the sun is attacking him. Why is he even here dealing with this shit? The answer, as it always is, is Naruto. Naruto who looked at him with his bright blue eyes and asked him to stay. Naruto who never gave up on him. Naruto who followed through and brought Sasuke back to Konoha, Naruto, his living, breathing shackle.
Sasuke brings his pale arm up, shielding his eyes, squinting slightly at the sun. Sage, was it burning brighter? Even thinking of the idiot made the sun brighter was that it? Fuck him, really. Why is he still dealing with this shit? For some reason, as he climbs up the stairs to Kakashi’s office the thought sticks with him. Why is he dealing with this? For Naruto? The old, tired voice in him whispers yes, but a new roar drowns him out. It sounds oddly a lot like his mother’s voice. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to haggle about his family’s land in the same office that ordered their extermination. He doesn’t want to live in the village that turned his back on him and the Uchiha. He doesn’t want to be here. His foot freezes on the top step. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to do this. So why the fuck is he doing this?
Sasuke’s lived what seems like his entire life doing things he doesn’t want to do and with all the power he’s obtained, with all that he sacrificed, why is he back where he used to be? So that brings him again to the question of why the fuck is he here?
He feels vaguely light headed as he brings his foot down from the top step. Ugh fuck, his head pulses a little and he can feel his temper flaring. So many things were wrong in his fucked up life and he was still hungry on top of that. Sasuke’s mind feels like it's moving through sludge. He doesn’t want to fucking do this, he doesn’t want to fucking be here. His foot goes down another step. Feeling like he’s in a dream, or maybe even Tsukuyomi again, he turns, no longer facing the door. He doesn’t want this. Seconds pass, his feet move.
He’s outside. His feet continue moving. There’s houses and vendors again. His feet continue moving. In a few blinks, he’s looking at Konoha’s gate. He feels like he’s viewing life through a filter. A vague sense of amusement filters through as he senses the anbu’s collective panic and uncertainty. It’s okay he thinks sourly. He’s not going to lose it and attack the village. Probably.
He wonders, with an unnatural calmness, if he’ll be branded a traitor for this again. Ah well. Treason might as well be another Tuesday to him at this rate he thinks a little hysterically.
There’s probably some foreshadowing here for what he’s about to do Sasuke thinks. A parallel even. He feels the fluttering panic of the anbu and smirks a little as he takes his first step out of the village in close to two years.
Sasuke walks and walks and walks, unburdened by the setting sun rays at his back. He walks and passively meditates, feeling the tickle of overgrown grass on his ankles and seeing the blue settle into the world around him. He walks so long that night hits, dark and misty and Sasuke keeps on walking. He doesn’t think about the family he’s never getting back, the revenge he failed to take, or his goddamn joke of a life. He just walks and walks and walks until he hits the mountains. He blinks up at them, feeling nothing and everything at once, and then walks up then down, then up again.
He comes back to himself when he sees a cabin perched precariously in a strange half cave half overhang part of the mountain. He peers placidly at the sign stating the rules for rent and follows the directions to another small cabin. This one differs from the second in the clear signs of life littered around it. A sprawling green garden, candle lights hanging from trees, the soft glow emanating from the inside. He raps his knuckles almost gently against the wooden door. He hears slow shuffles from the inside and an old man opens the door. Sasuke feels awkward all of a sudden, standing there on the porch, hip almost bumping against a set of chairs. He’s too well trained a shinobie to fidget, has been since the massacre, but the urge does make itself known.
He clears his throat, uncomfortably reminded that the last time he heard his own voice was two weeks ago where he had nearly gutted the village elders for their casual disregard over his family’s burial grounds. Fun times.
The old man raises a white eyebrow at him and Sasuke is abruptly reminded of the time his father had caught him sneaking in a cat. He clears his throat again. “I was wondering, if I well I saw the rent instructions on the cabin door over there” he flaps his hand in the general direction of where he came. His voice trails off. Fuck, Itachi should’ve taken him out along with everyone else.
The man squints at him grumpily and Sasuke is brutally reminded of exactly how dark and late it is. He drags up a small smile and hopes it doesn’t look like the painful grimace it really is. He practically sees the deadness of the man’s eyes. Fuck, he’s so screwed. Maybe he can bully a mountain goat out of its home for the night instead. The man seems to take in his bedraggled appearance and unfairly greasy hair and appears to throw all caution to the wind, deciding that it was too late and he was definitely too old to even play at giving a fuck.
“500 a month, 200 deposit, don’t destroy the place” the old man rasped. Thank sage. Sasuke recognizes a fellow introvert when he hears one. He takes out some crumpled bills and shoves it at the man who grabs it and closes the door in his face. After a few minutes he reappears and drops a key into Sasuke’s palm before once again slamming the heavy door shut.
Sasuke stands on the porch for a long time, staring at the cool bronze of the key on his palm. It’s strange to have and to see and he realizes this is actually the first home he’s picked out himself. After the massacre and his subsequent forced relocation, his academy apartment had been hokage issued. His stay with fucking Orochimaru certainly hadn’t done him any favors with hone decoration. The less said about his time as rogue ninja and Akutsuki member, along with his year long stint in jail the better. Then, with his Kakashi issued apartment, which looked eerily similar to his old Genin apartment, Sasuke really hadn’t experienced this before.
The bittersweet realization swept over him and he curled his hand around the key, stopping only when its prongs threatened to break skin. He turned around, carefully keeping his thoughts away from his past and picked his way back toward his new house.
It’s quiet as Sasuke picks his way through the overgrown green grass and onto his own sadder cabin. It’s still late, or more accurately early and most animals were still sleeping, dead to the world. Sasuke, living off of a rice ball he bought from a street vendor from the side of the mountain, feels the weight of his eyebags and the emptiness of his stomach. Judging from the shadows, the sun still isn’t set to rise for another hour, the world is still dark enough that with or without blackout curtains, he’d be able to sleep.
He takes a deep breath and inhales the scent of wood around him. A homeowner at the bright and early age of twenty. Who would’ve thought. He staunchly pushes away the thought that this should’ve been a celebrated milestone, one he thought would be shared with his mother and father standing behind him. His six year old self in all his fanciful dreams of the future had even tossed in a surprise party Shisui dragged Itachi into. Not for the first time Sasuke stomped down the knowledge that all those who had known and loved him were six feet under. No need for such depressing thoughts during this moment. Afterall, who needed a family when he had just run away from all his responsibilities and promises in order to rent a cabin for an outrageously low price? Not Sasuke that’s for sure.
He shucks off his shoes, and fully walks into the middle of the cabin. It’s a cozy thing with bamboo floors and wood walls. It’s furnished too, with a patterned blue and brown rug in the middle. A soft, plush looking couch sits there as well, paired with a lamp sitting on top of a polished wood table. Branching off there’s a minimal but well stocked kitchen, small bedroom and bathroom, and another separate room with a washing machine. It’s nice, cozy, quiet. Sasuke is nowhere near where he thought he would be in his twenties but maybe that’s okay. He’s not the shinobi hero his childhood self envisioned, or the vague image of himself he had outlined as an angsty tween. To be completely honest, Sasuke really hadn’t had a plan beyond killing Itachi and rebuilding his clan at that age. He never really thought he’d make it this far anyways.
He strips out of his clothes and collapses on the bed, stubbornly avoiding thoughts of the Uchiha or Team Seven or even Team Taka, his piss poor hail mary attempt at a family. He’s tired of thinking, of wanting, of being sick with fury and longing over the knowledge that what he had once he can never have again.
He purposely keeps his thoughts clear as he drifts asleep to the distant sound of birds waking.