Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"Peanut."

[. . .]

Chapter 1

In Essence, it Begins

[. . .]

There is absolute silence when Shadow Hokage Uchiha Sasuke wakes from what he likely considers the most painful physical experience he has had in his life, second to the sensational equity of losing an arm a decade or so back after the tremendous battle between his best friend and his long-gone persistence to be alone.

The flaming prickles slither across his flesh in biting agonies that put a horrifying climax in his left eye similar to creeping lightning; right where his Rinnegan rests. He sits up with a suppressed gasp, his lungs desperately inflating with air through a rough inhale of his nose that sears the purple visionary shut with blood. His head swirls and his stomach pumps enough to warn his mouth of upcoming digested food, but much like every other pain scorching his insides, he represses it supremely until he can gather his wits—all in ten seconds.

His eye registers a green ceiling—a room? A room found only in his memories—in Konoha. Before... Before he had left. The thrown blue covers of an old bed, the charred balcony window, and the half-burned scrolls plastered on the beige walls are all the same, down from the coloring to the very smell.

Numb colds caress his limbs briefly just as he moves, and they flare into action when he realizes that this room shouldn't exist or make him feel physically there (not burned, not smelling of smoke and lavender either) and like a lightning strike, he chitters his heavy head to move with a terrifying snap toward the surroundings he feels eerily familiar chakra circulate.

(Fire dances at the edges of his sight but he pays little attention to such insignificance.)

While killing isn't so far off his game in his thirty-two-year-old mind after Naruto's restless Talk-No-Jutsu chastising him to learn of someone before action is entailed, it scintillates anyway for a fleeting moment because of both the pain that's slowly receding and because the last thing he remembers is fainting.

His first thought is that someone attempted to kill him. That's the quick logic he manifests because he has yet to compartmentalize just what the fuck bestows this heavy ache that feels like receding poison. Therefore, it's only fair that when he raises his arm, summoning three collective shurikens between his steady digits; they release in an inhumanly concise direction to the target's head—only for them to falter the second they hit an invisible barrier that he slowly registers with his opening Rinnegan.

A chakra barrier.

Around two faces that look extremely familiar.

Without his consent, his body freezes in absurdity—gauges the shock of a boy that bears his old Genin clothes and the incredulity subdued alertness of another with an attire he usually feels embarrassment toward within his guilt-ridden memories—and ponders.

Ponders in what feels like an hour, but in actuality is ten seconds; his eye bursts with chakra that creates a vibrant air that whisps their hair back, checking for a Genjutsu, and then leaves him unbelievably disconcerted when nothing happens.

What is this?

He uses another spurt of chakra to remove what he thinks is a Genjutsu.

They watch him, waiting for a fight, with one sweating visible bullets and the other making an effort to keep it together.

They still don't disappear.

Baffled, his blank face contorts to omnipotent suspicion and he stands tall, immediately peering directly into the eyes of the poised boys he dares not entertain in the fathomless void he calls his deluded mind.

His body settles easily, regained in strength, thus causing erratic infusion of (it couldn't be) his chakra within them.

Before he can demand answers, the older (him? Is that him, truly?) boy jumps back and sneers but with repressed admiration (bewilderment) and his Genin self (because what the fuck, there is no other way to fucking explain it) breaks the killing intent with his voice.

"I-I'm you," He stutters out, failing to hold back the awe in his eyes and the shake in his hands as he raises a measly kunai in defense.

What.

He pauses, perplexed at what's just said as if he can't see it for himself.

Impossible, he almost spits, but he holds himself from doing so. This wouldn't be the first time he wound up in precarious situations.

At his silence, his Genin clone composes his face with determination and continues talking, although still breathless with conflicted fear. "I summoned you through... through a scroll," He swallows, contracting his eyes into a weak perseverance of power, "A time-jutsu scroll." His voice becomes like steel.

Sasuke's already narrowed eyes narrow further.

"It's true," Interjects his teenage apparition when he doesn't easily fall for whatever trick this is. The (fake?) body of his Genin illusion looks to the left, wide-eyed.

Sasuke snaps his head over in the same direction, still emitting his sinister killing intent. He finds the teen posed with his sword at a subtle angle in his direction, struggling to keep his composure but nevertheless doing so. "I came here an hour before you," He continues, mouth set in a grim line. "I didn't believe it at first." He shoots a growing glare at the Genin not-so-likely imaginary version of himself, "But I've already tried to dispel any Genjutsu. There is none." He looks like he wants to say more, but his lips simmer shut when Sasuke moves intimidatingly in acknowledgment.

"Time travel?" He mumbles, and he really does take a second to think: what the fuck.

It's not impossible. He's been in the past with Boruto before.

But this? Multiple versions of him?

This sounds like a mess of interdimensional timeless nonsense.

Sasuke straightens, quietly calculating. A sense of wrongness prevails through the air, and his gut swirls in expectation, waiting for the farce to break as his eye relentlessly continues to break apart something that isn't there. The iron building up behind it shrivels away from the influences he takes to get rid of a mockery Genjutsu.

Nothing happens.

"Explain," He then demands lowly, stepping back to give them a safe sense of distance. As a precautionary measure as well, just in case this entire thing is a ridiculous attempt to catch him off-guard with a knife to the gut. Not that they could, presuming that the fallacies of the past versions of himself are meant to keep the same skill level.

The teenager turns to look at his Genin self expectantly, who grips his kunai tight in a strangling grip. "My... My team came back from the mission in waves a few days ago. While I-I was there—" He seems to hate himself at that moment for the sputter, and then Sasuke realizes he's still releasing killing intent. He turns it off, watches the visible relief of the two, and waits for the Genin to proceed.

He does so, less afraid. "I saw a scroll with the Uchiha Clan Emblem in a shop. I bought it, taking the chance that it was possibly authentic, and waited until I got to my apartment before testing it."

Sasuke watches the boy with carefully guarded eyes as he brings out the tiny wad of rolled paper from his pocket. "Before I left, I was told the scroll held ancient secrets. I didn't believe it," His mouth moves to the side in slight frustration when he notices that Sasuke has yet to change his scary facial expression, "But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to know. I decided to try it out, half expecting it wouldn't work..."

He trails off, looking at his Teenage self leaning on the wall with crossed arms and an angry countenance that swears revenge against the child. "But it did," He harshly spews.

"Without any conception of the effects the time trajectory might've caused," Sasuke includes just as severely, grabbing both of their attention.

The Genin looks away. His features harden. "I wanted power."

To this, Sasuke is no fool.

"And..." He clenches a fist and brandishes it close to his chest, raising it from the emotion that sparks a litter of reminders for Sasuke.

Reminders that he doesn't want to take any part.

"I wanted you to give it to me. To... To train me," He tries, anxious when Sasuke angles his body slightly away, thus confounding the adult and creating a knowing look from the teenager. "Maybe he won't help me but you—" His Sharingan manifests with rage, pinpointing him with desperate loathing that makes Sasuke frown further at the abrupt change, "I summoned you with the intention to help me kill that... that man—"

The Teenager shuffles, "Do you really think he'll do it?" He sneers, and the kid glares back at him. "If he's me, if he's the future me, us, I don't care—if he is, he won't." He looks sure when he says this, and even goes to look at the adult, challenging.

"Are you?"

It's a damn question that Sasuke can see the effective doubt littered between sore hope. He doesn't need to answer to see the bitter victory in the hormonal youth's eye a second later.

"No," His twelve-year-old self refutes, temperamental, "I used my chakra to—"

"I don't care. Neither does he. He won't train you," The teenager nods his head at the only adult in the room. "And now we're both pulled from our time for no fucking reason. You weren't thinking. You were foolish—"

"Quiet," Sasuke immediately declares, and the room enters a haunting silence. The Teenager glares at him and the kid looks over, unable to hide the fervor coiling around his expressive face. But they silence.

Seconds pass while Sasuke takes the time to stew about this unexpected situation. This time, there is no turtle involved, nor a Boruto creating a faulty seal that could've convoluted this risky mess. He was on his way to call for Sarada when he felt weak, a burn behind his eyes, and passed out. Before blacking out he hadn't seen anyone but Sarada's alarmed expression coming out of the forest bushes.

Now he's here, hearing his twelve-year-old memory declare that he was summoned to kill a brother he longs to reunite with—along with a face that carries the peak of his regrets.

He doesn't want to believe he's here, surrounded by two important years of his miserable existence.

But the chakra he senses and takes a careful look at with his Rinnegan does not lie.

It doesn't help that hearing himself berate the foolishness of a child anchors a bitter melancholy inside him that he shouldn't be feeling, especially considering that this could all be some top-notch fake world trying to trick him. Though there is no one, besides probably Sakura and Naruto, that could put him in a Genjutsu this elaborate. He would have seen it by now.

Sasuke eases his expression into a vexing understanding that seems to confuse the two of them (because, surely, a calm Sasuke is a scary one). Or, one. The other looks like he hadn't expected him to look less threatening after that declaration. The twelve-year-old appears a little more hopeful and internally the adult winces.

"I can't do that," He says this, assuming that his teenage self hinted at the denial of a demise that he can't quite forget about before he roused.

If he relents that this is indeed time travel and bases his befuddling theory that the missing-nin of his past has already killed off his brother (the eyes are a dead giveaway) and learned the truth, then he has slightly less to worry about when it comes to angry, traumatized youths fucking up the timeline. It explains why the Teenager looked so triumphant when he initially became quiet.

What has him sad, nostalgic, and aggravated all in one is his past genin self. (Not taking in the fact that he's also aggrieved more so from the seventeen-year-old.)

The pestering side of him strains when he scrutinizes the child—him, because if he's somehow gone through these types of lengths to achieve this... A dangerous, random seal with disastrous potential...

Seeing this, from a different perspective now that he has had years to heal the bits and pieces torn from his heart, truly allows him to notice what Naruto might've seen. Being called by his past self just by the chance that he used a scroll is uncharacteristically something he might've done, but the problem lies in the fact that he does not remember any of this. Regardless, it's a harsh reminder.

Because he understands.

He's lived this. Not this moment, but his life.

And maybe years ago he might've been heartless to that fault—a fault that he clearly sees within his teenage past right in front of him, because in truth he's made too many mistakes, hated himself (and to some degree still does, because Sarada and Sakura deserved better than his absence) but he's grown to heal. He doesn't feel as angry as he used to.

But this 12-year-old version of him? The one that's yet to have had a proper hand give him help? A child?

He doesn't have his years of atonement. He doesn't have anyone, hasn't allowed anyone in to do so, and therefore has no concept of what lies beneath so much pain.

He's a child that's just begun the path he long regrets.

He's not angry at the request the child beseeched from him. Upset, more like, because this is a mockery of what he had been.

He knows now, after a decade and a half, that he was a hurt kid with nothing else to live for besides the death of a brother who couldn't have been more than 13 years old when crimson became the floors of memories.

He's here, in the past, facing the start and the climax of the festering hatred he's let go of... A hatred his brother formed—had broken him in doing so, leaving him resentful, bitter, and yet accepting all in one.

A brother he killed. And now, he faces an old photograph of a time before he had dealt the final blow to his heart—

His soul lurches at a sudden realization.

Itachi is alive.

Hopelessness hollows into the child when the man simply stares at him with no further projection. "What... Why!?" He hisses, wide-eyed and helpless, and steps forward with twisted fists. He acts like this isn't the first time he's been denied, and in a sense, it isn't. Sasuke is inclined to believe that his teenage self refused the offer, and likely hurt the boy because he looks to be on the verge of setting him on fire. "You know what he did! How... You would want revenge! You're me!"

It's a cry for help that he's cruel for refusing.

Sasuke's expression harshens. "Hand me the scroll," He says instead of giving the upcoming mental breakdown a response, unmoving and ignoring the snort from the teenager a few steps away. (He cannot entertain his objections. He knows what he'll reveal if he does.)

Itachi is alive.

He can...

He falters, hearing his younger self desperately reverse what cannot be undone.

Would it be wise? Would he want to change history?

Every part of him screams yes. His heart, especially does so, renewed with profound sadness that leaves him stunningly breathless because—Kami, his brother is alive.

He can reverse every wrong he has done. (He can save his younger self from all the pain that came after his delusion.) There's a chance now, that he can live. (Where he won't be alone, if only.)

But would he dare so? Would he dare change the flow of time more than what it is doing now, just for Itachi? Probably not. Sasuke isn't stupid. He's not that desperate Teenager anymore that'll do anything he can to see his brother one last time. He's already accepted he's gone even though he yearns for another moment.

But what of this young version of him? He can change that. He can give himself a resentful, but healing ending instead of the cards he'd been dealt with.

It's better if he tells his younger self the truth if he decides to. Better to rip the bandage off than prolong the inevitable.

Unexplainably, the two young Sasukes watch his expression morph into exhaustion.

He has to, he decides resolutely. His Itachi is already dead. But in this timeline, he is not.

(He feels like a Hypocrite. Boruto had wanted the same. He had denied it.)

"Please give me the scroll," Sasuke speaks in a dull tone, and they blink at him incredulously, "Summoning the both of us here was a great risk that can destroy this reality and likely multiple others. I need to see what you did and check if there's any lasting damage. Messing with time is a perilous fault I'd rather not cease to exist from." His ending comment is bland.

In truth, he's not sure the same rule applies this time around. Again, there is no stupid time turtle or jumping Ōtsutsuki on his trail.

The kid pales slightly and reluctantly hands him the tube after several minutes of suspicious staring.

The Teenager moves closer, curious. "...Can you reverse it?" There's yearning in his voice but there's also a hint of something else. Something more sinister.

Sasukes eyes him, knowing exactly what's going on in his brain. "Probably," He admits, and the two versions of him look impressed. "I've traveled through time before, though it was under different circumstances." He holds it from the edge and flicks the object, unraveling it. "I don't recall ever buying this."

"Really..." The teenager murmurs as his eyes drift to his left side. A startlingly empty left side.

The kid isn't so quiet about it. "Your arm..."

Sasuke ignores that and reads the instructions in the fine print.

It details the pedagogy on how to trigger it; a ring made of charcoal that characterizes the imprint of the Rinnegan, candles serving as the tomoe, and enough chakra to cover the lines in an invigorating blue conduit. A cross of blood within the center is also recommended for more power...

Sasuke lowers the scroll and turns around, looking back to where he woke up. A circle of fire inflames in a messy spectacle, threatening to catch the light on the ashen wall because of its large size. There, in the middle where the candles are knocked over, sits a smudge of blood. Miniscule, but enough.

He looks at the scroll again, turning on his Sharingan and memorizing all of it; including the strange exposition at the end.

Jikkan Rewritten

Multiple Eyes Of All, Bounden Truth

In Essence, it Begins

and starts the Endings of Yogen

A Ghost of Mine.

His eyebrows furrow.

Whoever created this jutsu must've done so to either warn them of a future that backfired—if the old splatters of blood on the edges are any indication—or an attempt to go back in time to change a period of events without repercussions. It speaks of prophecy and eyes. This screams Uchiha Issues.

The weight of the chittering scroll doesn't feel distinctly Uchiha, however—if anything, it carries Hyuuga and Uzumaki chakra. There are three lines on the outside cover of the scroll; two with distinct smear marks that end with the stench of death, and one that's empty. It seems to have only needed Uchiha...

His Sharigan expands and he considers burning it, but ultimately decides on putting it away in the pocket of his pants. As angry as he is that he suspects a stupid Ōtsutsuki is behind this issue yet again, he can't remove the evidence. There's an obvious much that he's not seeing.

The Genin looks against him taking what he originally owned but is also too blanched by what Sasuke warned him about to object to it.

He ignores the elevated stink eye from both occupants. "It's a miracle you didn't die." His voice is placid.

To the boy, it sounds rugged and cold.

Sasuke continues as his Sharingan disappears. "The scroll is heavy with chakra. I assume two others before you attempted to use it. They were killed."

The boy momentarily appears stricken.

Sasuke, in that second, remembers why Kakashi kept asking him if he was okay in his own shitty sense while he was a boy. He makes it too obvious when he feels emotions of extreme intent, and he wonders how he ever managed to get where he is now with that erratic weakness. Again, however, he can't and won't blame the kid. It's not as if anyone was around to train him properly.

It's a lamentable disclosure that has him wondering if Naruto chased after him because he saw enough of what he desperately kept hidden.

"And you know this how?" The teenager interjects, curious. His gears work to match his pace, and Sasuke is half-surprised that the teen doesn't seem overly suspicious of him. I'm him, he reminds himself. Still an incredulous concept, but Sasuke isn't known for his obedience, so he doesn't know what's making the juvenile so complacent.

He finds he does not care. "The scroll sucked in all their chakra," He theorizes, "There are two foreign signatures that make it heavy. Hyuuga and Uzumaki. They both hold the same amount as a regular Jonin's worth. The different blood confirms its earlier use."

The genin sweatdrops but his expression hardens. "Then why wasn't I killed?" He demands rather weakly, swallowing and hoping to stop the annoying way Sasuke keeps looking at him.

"Your reserves are low," Sasuke acquiesces, "And I'm missing a small portion of my chakra. There's a chance the scroll took bits from all of us thus preventing you from meeting an early demise."

The teenager agrees, flexing his hand. "I'm missing a decent amount." His glare is back on the nervous child.

Sasuke thinks back to the cryptic words, questioning if the ancient Uchiha phrasing similar to the stone is hinting at it. In Essence, it Begins, he recites mentally, affirming his short-lived theory. It seems to have meant Chakra, or maybe the blood his younger self used. Either way, he can clue back and use that to see if there's a chance to reverse it. He's not that well-off with seals. That's more Naruto's job.

If portal jumping won't work, he'll need to look for Jiraiya.

He feels himself grow tired the more he realizes just how dire his predicament is.

"Are you able to send us back?" The teenager asks again blandly, stopping him from creating a portal to check things out.

Sasuke pays no heed to that. "I don't know," He says candidly. "The scroll contains a recitation that hints at a way back, but it's cryptic. It mentions Jikkan."

"Our fortune?" The teen grumbles. "What fortune. We're stuck here doing nothing."

Genin Sasuke doesn't speak up, but he can relate to how both of them refused.

Curious, Sasuke studies the teenager's impassiveness. "You've yet to leave," He tells him boldly. He knows by now that this version of him knows that Itachi is alive. Sasuke had been desperate to have another second with his brother; he would've left to go find him by now. So what keeps him around?

The teen stiffens. "That's because we're bound by a Chakra string," He expresses vehemently. "I would've been long gone by now. I'm wasting time by being here. There are more important things to do rather than babysit." His eyes implore him meaningly.

The child glares hatefully at his older self. There's a hint of hurt in his gaze.

Sasuke frowns. "Bound?" He mumbles, and now that he mentions it, he can feel something wrapped around his heart. He thought it had just been the discomfort at seeing relics of his past, but it does seem uncompromising...

Multiple Eyes of All, Bounden Truth

He curses internally. Of all fucking things... Bound in Truth, he surmises, likely means that they're together because everything isn't out in the open yet. To release it, they need to let the truth of something come to light. Maybe he's wrong and it means something else, but that's the sole rationale he can come up with for now.

The only thing that comes to Sasuke's mind is Itachi's undoing. But what if it's something else? It mentions their fortune and their eyes; likely the Sharignan. They might all need to see something before they can be set free. Or they might need to unlock the Mangekyo...

It's probably a way to go back, seeing that he can't even use a portal to see if he can overwrite the jutsu himself now with that information circling about.

The teen crosses his arms and doesn't say anything else, waiting to see what the adult has to say to him. He imagines it's nothing good.

Sasuke narrows his eyes and turns full-body to the blank-faced missing-nin. "From what period do you come from?"

He sees his jaw clench and the grip of his chokuto's handle tighten. "I assume you would know," He replies bitterly.

"No," Sasuke admits. "I've worn one attire for the duration of some of the most life-threatening moments in my life," He explains, eyeing his clothes and the ridiculous purple rope, "I imagine you already know the truth."

The teen's face contorts with wrath and drops the instant it arrives. "Yes." It's spoken through gritted teeth.

"Good," Sasuke then takes a moment, thinking. He doesn't know for sure if the teen already attempted to kill the man behind the Uchiha Oppression. "And Danzo?"

He sees his Sharingan manifest. Minutes tick by, and Sasuke watches with boredom as the teenager openly sneers at him. "...He's dead." There's a challenge in his eyes.

Behind the teen, the child version of him looks between them in confusion.

"I see," Sasuke grows quiet, monitoring the bubbling anger. He sees it, lives and has lived in it, and can't help himself from sighing at the open display of hatred. He understands this too. He still despises Danzo for the preposterous condemnation of the Uchiha. He just wishes his past self didn't look so deep into all the regrets he'll eventually come to know. "Good," He expresses neutrally and turns away before he can see the teenager dampen in suspicion, surprise, and loss.

"You."

The Genin, who has been waiting with a traitorous, confounded look, is ready to demand answers, and Sasuke doesn't blame him. "What?" He spits.

"You mentioned you just came back from The Waves Mission?"

The boy nods.

Sasuke squints at him. "What happened?"

For a moment, the two younger versions of him look confused. "Don't you know?" The kid asks. The Teen watches him closely.

"Enlighten me," He brushes off.

The child tells him without much thought: They escort a man named Tazuna, encounter Momochi Zabuza, witness the fight between his sensei and the missing-nin which later renders the Hatake unconscious, take themselves to The Land of Waves, recuperate for a week while they watch Tazuna build his bridge, and then fight Zabuza once more.

"...Zabuza dies next to the Kiri Assassin," The Genin finishes, avoiding Sasuke's eyes. His story is vague, but enough.

"There's no change," Sasuke tells him. "The only difference was Team 7 stopping for a shopping spree on their way back to Konoha." Somehow, he wouldn't put it past Kakashi to do something like that.

"Yeah," The boy mumbles.

Sasuke regards the moody teenager again, "Do these events correlate with your own?"

The Teen nods. "I didn't buy a scroll," He adds.

Interesting.

Engaging with the youngest in the room, he forms a plan. "Do you know where the store is?" Sasuke questions the boy, and the boy rubs his elbow, looking unsure.

"Yes," He answers.

"Good. We're leaving." He brushes past them and toward the door.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"We're leaving," He repeats, angling his head to look at them over his shoulder.

"That shop doesn't belong in this time."

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"It's not the future I dream of anymore. Only the Past."

[. . .]

Chapter 2

The Shoe, The Step, and The Shadow

[. . .]

To say 17-year-old Uchiha Sasuke is shocked is an understatement.

No, saying he's stunned into impossible levels is a miscreant epitome that gives his state of mind no justice; he's livid.

Bewildered mostly rather than completely outraged, and vexingly floored by what he's been forced to see and experience for the past two hours he's been involuntarily thrown back in time.

At the time he had woken up, he had reacted much the same as his Older Double had—except with more viciousness that would've ended with a dead 12-year-old had an invisible wall not caught his thrown amiable the first time. He had attacked the boy he believed an imposter first, and then dwindled his impulsive edge when he heard the boy shakily declare that he was him.

The notion had effectively disoriented him into a cruel pondering that he quickly pushed himself out of because he wasn't going to believe something as ludicrous as that.

What came to mind was an elaborate Genjutsu an enemy must've placed him under to deceive him, and he had endeavored numerous times likely as his older self had to break out of it, threatening the concise imagery of his past self all the while. Nothing changed.

He had almost laughed too when his past self insisted otherwise and then did so when the boy had uttered the sinister ambiance of murdering the man he loves the most minutes later, accompanying it with such a ridiculous demand to be trained that Sasuke had almost tried killing him again on the spot.

(He had seen the boy look petrified, astonished that he was laughing. At him, no less. He had become desperate in the following seconds, confusing Sasuke's laughter with his disbelief that he was truly in the past. He had not realized that Sasuke was laughing at the disgusting ideal the boy asked for, had not realized that his broken soul had poured out of him without the consent of his long list of regrets.)

He later tried to leave after listening to the childish assertion of revenge from the idiotic child.

He had cruelly denied and dismissed him, had ignored the sight of helpless disbelief on his past self's face, and summoned a hawk to leave. It broke some of the furniture of the apartment but Sasuke didn't care, not when it already looked like a shambled mess.

Except, the moment he opened the balcony window of this (cursed, shameful) apartment while disregarding the protests of the kid to leave, he was pulled back by a rope in his heart once in the sky and left wheezing for breath. The result of it wasn't pretty. He had been alarmingly roped back and slammed into the walls, managing one lucky break of the glass door and thankfully nothing else. Though, while the broken glass was just that, broken glass, it had managed to penetrate enough of his skin for it to be a bother.

Needless to say, Sasuke wasn't happy.

And he still isn't.

This entire experience is a mock of epic proportions to the nth degree of horrible cosmic satire. He's dreamed of nothing more than to change all the mistakes he's come to unfold, and now that he's here, he can't even leave and do what he needs to achieve that. Humiliation burns his insides and especially his heart because now that he can do something, he's bound to the thing he hates the most; himself.

And what's worse, it's not just the Genin version of who he had been.

Traveling through the trees just a little ways behind the Genin is his Adult Self, unknowingly asserting a penetrating longing into Sasuke's otherwise aching heart. When he first saw the smokey appearance of the close-eyed figure laying unceremoniously on the floor, he had been stumped. He had turned to the 12-year-old, harshly questioning what he did, only to be told that he had done nothing.

When he woke up, Sasuke had never felt such bone-chilling killing intent—not one that felt so much like his brother's, except worse.

To say it was a trip is an understatement. And now?

Now the man is calm.

He moves, elicits, and talks like a man who has his life put together, and while Sasuke is initially covetous of that, the hope he despises more than his hidden care for his old team is unfathomably tinkering with his dwindling sanity all the more.

The physical expectation of a future he never thought to be is right in front of him, giving him something other than the eternal anger he wants to feel for the rest of his days. He has convinced himself that nothing after his brother's death, not even Naruto's useless efforts to bring him back home, will give him peace.

He has chosen his cruel path into nothingness and has made it so by killing off the one person that has ever given him meaning in life.

And to see... to see the revolting way his Older Self carries himself; with vehemence, with decisiveness, it enrages him.

It angers him because he dares hope for more. He dares hope that there is more than all this pain.

One day, that person will be him.

Someone, who, as far as Sasuke sees, seems infinitely further confusing than he can ever hope to understand.

(Because he is infallible. He is certain that nothing but abhorrence is waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. And he knows this, feels this like the drop of tragedy in his destiny, a destiny that he chose.)

It hurts. It hurts him to see.

It makes him feel like a fucking child. It makes him feel like he has something else waiting for him, too. That he won't be alone.

Childish Fantasies.

That perhaps all this hatred and bitterness is just the tip of the iceberg for something better.

And he wants to believe that. He can. The truth is right in front of him.

But he's spent so long expecting nothing more...

It confuses him. And he detests that. He loathes that he feels disconnected. He shouldn't be. His fears for a future he doesn't see himself in mock him by just the sight of the man alone, and he has no idea what to think.

Should he feel grateful to know he lasts that long? Is he assuming his future self is well put together because of how he portrays himself?

Will he be okay?

He feels like puking. He doesn't know, and yet he does because the act of a stupid decision he doesn't remember making gives him that peek. His Future is written, and the book opens to reveal a man that has his face but he cannot recognize it.

Is his older self alone?

Is he happy?

Thinking has been the enduring pastime as they all venture slowly through the nightly escapade, and Sasuke hasn't said a word since they left, unlike his older self. He speaks, questions almost softly for the directions to his Genin self, and Sasuke observes it all, lost.

How can he speak so gently? How can he be so patient?

He's furious. He can't do anything. He can't go see his brother, he can't go and change something that he once thought inevitable—

How?

(How can the man look at himself and not hate?)

Questions upon questions pile up in his restless mind. Flickers of horrid memories of blood and the loving face of his brother edge him closer to a delirious dissociation that he's not even aware he's slowly succumbing to and he lets himself drink the sanguine of his torments until he drowns. He begs for answers, begs and hates and confuses himself all over again, and he wants to leave.

He doesn't want to be here. He wants to go to his brother. He wants to hug him again, wants to cry and beg for his forgiveness because he cannot do that on his own.

He can't.

How is his future self not jumping at the chance to see his brother again?

(His frustrations build, and they fester, coiling around his heart and squeezing the depressing emptiness dry. He wants to shout. He wants to cry like a little kid. It doesn't make sense.)

He's only known his future self for a good half hour and not once has he mentioned him. Not even when his past self detest-fully beseeched another juncture to get rid of the man of his sufferings.

But, calmly, the adult does not give in. He is implored but he doesn't seem to care for it. The Genin is foolish for asking.

(He is foolish for wanting something so unworthy.)

Sasuke hides this all behind an impassive limbo that becomes irritation whenever the Genin does something stupid.

(That's him.

He cannot stand it.)

Unwelcome feelings char his otherwise beaten heart, rising exponentially when the older man casts furtive glances in his particular direction. He catches it almost every single time because he's looking too, and captures the lingering pulp of something raw and nostalgic in his eyes. Eyes that do not belong to him.

(That's him.

He wants to claw his eyes out.)

It annoys him. He wants to disappear, burn down Konoha and their stupid fucking council, and be done with it. He wants nothing to do with himself. Not this unexpectant mission, not the intricacies of the flow of time.

He wants nothing to do with anything. He just wants to see his brother. He wants to help his brother.

He doesn't need anything else.

(And yet still, he feels for something that has not yet come to be.)

As the minutes pass, they come to a gradual pace that begins to anger him. The Genin can no longer travel through trees because he's tired, and Sasuke would've told him to suck it up if not for the adult chiming in that it'd be better to take a stable tread through the woods before he can pass out and become a liability.

He holds his tongue because it's true.

"You're weak."

The voice is almost enough to make him flinch, but he doesn't. He looks over, half expecting the Adult to be talking to him, but finds that it's his younger self that the hidden question is directed to. To that, he scoffs internally, curious to see just what made the adult speak out like that.

"No," Says the child, scowling. "I'm fine. I'm just... looking around." The answer isn't convincing to either of them. There's a stretch of sweat on his forehead and a white-knuckled clench of his fists, shaking slightly with every step he takes. He looks like he's on the verge of a fever.

"By shaking in place?" Inquires the adult, and Sasuke snorts. His snort earns a vicious glare from the kid. The child isn't fooling anyone. He doesn't know why the adult gives a shit.

That's another thing Sasuke finds completely baffling. He looks like he cares. (Is that really so alarming?)

It's absurd, and Sasuke doesn't know what to think about that either. Does he become soft? Is that really how he'll be?

(It hurts.)

"No," Spits the child.

The conversation stops. The adult looks like he wants to say more but dutifully keeps his mouth shut, resigned.

Sasuke would add more if he cared. He has no problem leaving the Genin behind. He's useless. The fact that his older self seems willing to help him makes him want to set this entire forest on fire. The two of them already have the information they need to get to where they need to be. The boy said to follow along this path just straight until it appears. They don't need him anymore, and keeping him here will just slow them down. The kid should stay at home and rest.

Yet he doesn't express this. He honestly doesn't give a shit enough to.

They continue walking.

Sasuke doesn't like walking. "We could've been there by now," He mumbles, glaring at the nightly trees.

"He's chakra-exhausted," His older self informs as if Sasuke is stupid, "We shouldn't rush. We don't know what we're getting into just yet and he should be recovering in case there's an altercation." It honestly sounds like bullshit. What will his younger self do? He's impotent.

Maybe it's the look on the adult's face or maybe it's the situation that's getting to him, but he fractures the dead mask he holds. "What, you think a shop lady will get the upper hand on us?" Sasuke demands, issuing a dry look in his directive. He doesn't know where that impulsive response comes from when he knows better. He's acting just as badly as his younger self.

And by the looks of his older counterpart, he knows it too. "You never know," He says, and it sounds too bland to be a joke. Except the man looks at him expectantly, with a glance of something weird in his visible eye, and he stops.

Is he trying to joke?

"You're serious," Sasuke states.

His face remains unchanging.

Oh, Kami. It really is a joke.

He just stares at him, and he notices out of the corner of his eye that the Genin does too, incredulous.

The quiet stretches, awkward as hell, and Sasuke makes his cringe apparent. "That wasn't funny," It's heavily acidic, and the child looks apprehensively at the adult as if expecting a harsh blow. Sasuke wants to see it, wants to see him angry. Anything is better than that disgusting act of calmness.

But he doesn't get angry.

Instead, he looks away. "It wasn't supposed to be." He sounds tired, now.

What the fuck.

Sasuke can't stand it.

They don't speak for the rest of the walk. The trees grow thicker as the moon slowly maneuvers at the hour, shining upon them with an everpresent glow. He hears the slightly rough breathing of his younger self but elicits to ignore it, thinking it's deserved. He has no sympathy for idiots who choose to put themselves in wary situations.

(A mirror tells him the same thing.)

A minute becomes an hour and just when Sasuke is about to break, he hears the awaited inquisition.

"We're here."

They arrive at a deserted area free of trees. Bushes stretch vines across a pebbled road, and Sasuke lines up his vision to take in what his younger self claims to be the shop.

Except it's not a shop.

It's a dump.

"What is this?" He deadpans, glaring at the kid who looks just as confused. There are no lights and no indication that someone inhabits this place. The house looks broken down, smelling of decades-old smoke.

Worse yet, nobody is here.

"It... It was right here," The kid implores, frowning. "It..."

Sasuke opens his mouth to say otherwise, but the adult beats him to it.

"I believe you," He says, and Sasuke looks at him like he's stupid, "Something or someone must've vanished it from existence. There's no trace that anyone was ever here." He walks to the door and opens it, scrutinizing the area with a single step. He turns around with nothing of interest.

"And yet he remembers it," Sasuke points out quickly, staring down at the boy who crosses his arms, challenging his stare. "If it vanished from existence, how come he remembers? His memories would've been whisked away with it."

"Except we're bound together," The adult replies.

Sasuke is so over this. "I don't need a reminder."

"It's not. I'm saying that the reason he remembers is likely because the scroll works as a time checkpoint. It's a conduit of the chakra our younger self used before it might've disappeared. Chakra holds memory. There is also the matter of blood, plus the scroll itself. It's physical evidence of existence. If my theory is correct, then we're the only individuals who will remember any form of anomaly, if not all because we completed the ritual."

His speculation isn't so far off. It makes sense. There's a polarity that the scroll has that reeks of their chakra and he can sense it inside his older self's cloak. That might prove a problem because it's a damn beacon, and he's surprised it hasn't roused anyone yet. Upon its completion that's a gathering mix of multiple forms of chakra, it presumably reset whatever didn't belong in this timeline so that there wasn't any prospect to invert the jutsu used.

Working as Fate, the scroll's usage determines his fortune. The question is: how will they go back, if at all?

"Does that mean that if everything is reversed, will we be the only ones to remember?" The Genin asks.

"Probably," He answers.

Sasuke looks over at the worn shack. "Wouldn't that implode reality itself? How is it possible that a shop is completely erased from the timeline without any repercussions?"

"Upon activation, it might've deviated into a separate timeline," The adult answers, and Sasuke quiets. "It explains why we're still here and why we remember. It also elucidates why neither of us has a memory of buying the scroll. This just so happens to be a different aspect of time. A different timeline with the same flow, until we came along."

"That's why you asked us if we had different memories," Sasuke realizes, looking at his older self with a calculating gaze.

He nods. "Everything up to this point must've been in tune with our experiences. We haven't disappeared because either there aren't enough differences yet to make it so, or this timeline is separate."

Something capricious glimmers inside him. "Then we're free to make any changes," Sasuke states not as a request but as a fact.

The expression on his older self's face is hard to read. "I suppose," He admits.

"What now?" The twelve-year-old adds in, peeved at being left out of the conversation. "We checked here. We could check the area if there is anything of value too."

Sasuke looks around promptly while the adult acknowledges his suggestion. "We could. But I don't see how we'll find anything. The land looks corroded. My eye can't detect any leftover residue of chakra, either."

The boy frowns.

Sasuke looks at the adult, knowing. "There's no need for any further action just yet. I've already sent a message to someone who can help. We can wait until they reply."

"Who? Is that why you sent a... a bird earlier?" The genin asks, confounded.

The 32-year-old blinks at him. "Have you? Already?" He questions. There's a weight to him that exudes in the air; not quite a warning, but not a fallacy either. "With a copy?"

"Of the scroll? Yes." He nods. Before his older self came along and after falling on his ass in a failed escape attempt, he had studied the scroll and quickly rewrote it in one of the scattered papers the Genin had around. He had sent it away on a hawk later while dismissing the kid's perplexity, rethinking if he should've added something else, but ultimately conceded with what it had.

(He had not penned his life's soul on the paper. He had spilled some, blanketed half of his words in hellish remorse, and sent it away with yearnings to see him again.)

"Who?" Pipes in the kid again.

The adult examines him and Sasuke turns away, dismissing the demand. He has no time for that.

"Someone important," The adult speaks. "If they reply, I will tell you who it is."

The kid looks annoyed that he can't know immediately, but thankfully he quiets down. He seems more willing to listen to his adult counterpart than him.

Not that he cares. That means it won't be his problem.

(Except it is.)

"I'll contact someone else," The adult says, and Sasuke whips his head, eerily calm.

"There's no one else," He refutes.

"Who?" The boy insists.

"Kakashi," The adult exposes, and Sasuke considers this. The man elaborates further, "It would be hard to explain why there's three of us arriving for training tomorrow."

That's... true. In his sparking dilemma, the notion to inform Kakashi bypassed his mind. After all, he wouldn't consider going to him for any help. His betrayal lies fresh in his mind, unbearably bitter. "Hn."

"Oh," The genin mumbles, just realizing. It wouldn't be good if he suddenly went missing, and considering that the three of them can't exactly separate from one another, it serves as a genuine issue. Sending just a message wouldn't work either. It'd be hard to believe notes on a paper, for one. For another, it would assumably initiate a chain of speculation among the Council that would lead them into deeper trouble. Though, that's inevitable. Sasuke is already aware of what he wants to do when the situation comes to it. "Wouldn't it be better to tell him in person...?"

"It would be." Sasuke conforms.

The adult sighs, looking highly reluctant. It seems his notch to avoid people still hasn't gone away. (He won't admit to himself that this relieves him. He can see himself in his future self a little, now. Not the stranger.) "Fine. Let's go. I can teleport us there."

"Teleport?" They say at the same time. The Genin glares at him as if he's committed a criminal offense.

"Yes," The adult dismisses simply.

"Now?" The Genin follows, looking at the sky to gouge the time that Sasuke can bet he doesn't know.

Both Sasuke and the eldest of the group regard him dryly.

"Unless you want to wake up at an ungodly hour in the morning, it's best we do it now," The adult advises.

The Genin takes a second to decide—a second too late because the trees rustle, a branch breaks, and four ANBU guards abruptly surround them.

Sasuke thinks he hears his older self curse and immediately takes out his Chokuto, shooting a chilling glower at the first one he focuses on. The 32-year-old grabs the youngest and pulls him to a side that hides him within the confines of his cloak, his own weapon out and pointed in a deadly warning at the ANBU closest.

"Halt," Speaks the one behind him, and Sasuke calmly angles his head to look over, "Unknown Shinobi on our borders are prohibited. Surrender now or face the consequences—" The feminine voice unexpectedly chokes and then goes silent, spasming before passing out. She hits the floor and there's a quick inhale and a surrounding gasp that tenses the atmosphere.

Sasuke snaps his head to look around and see what caused it, half anticipating for all of them to attack now that one of their comrades is down. His muscles seize to prepare to block but he's not worried—except when he does they're all on the ground. Confounded, he faces his other selves to see if they shared a similar fate. They're both standing, with the eldest holding the youngest close to him, protective. Sasuke then notices that a red glow coming from his older counterpart's eye slowly recedes to normal.

Had he—?

"I put them in a Genjutsu," The adult answers his unaired question. "We're leaving," He says, turning around and creating a silent reprieve of whipping chakra. A purple, swirl-like vortex tears through reality mere feet from where they stand, and the two occupants gape.

Sasuke watches the oldest grab the child and haul him through, before facing him and nodding his head. He steps in, and the Teenager quickly follows, not one to be left behind.

They leave four bodies on the floor and a shadow sneaking through the abandoned wreckage.

[. . .]

Kakashi is in the middle of heading to bed after closing his beloved Icha-Icha when he hears a thundering collapse coming from his living room, followed by a wave of monstrous chakra that has his single eye widening and him scrambling out of the warm covers.

He grabs the kunai under his pillow he keeps because he's a Shinobi trained through and pulls the door of his room open, rushing to the area of speculation. Under normal circumstances, he would have snuck by to see who in their right mind is invading his specific apartment in the middle of the night, but there's something unbearably different that has him thinking on auto-pilot.

That chakra—it's Sasuke—

He stops short from the doorway.

Trembling he finds his student, on his knees, accompanied by a cloaked figure that reaches to set him upright—

Something closes and a third figure emerges, setting a balanced line from tallest to shortest when they all straighten upon seeing him.

They all wear the same face with different emotions filtering through and aged skin becoming more prominent as his eye follows the line.

"Sasuke?"

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"I hate a lot of things, and I don't particularly like anything."

[. . .]

Chapter 3

With Brushes of Memory

[. . .]

Consoling as it may be, Kakashi doesn't look as distraught as he first pictured him. Then again, 12-year-old Uchiha Sasuke hadn't been paying attention after the fun walk in the woods he just had with his two older selves.

It starts off like this:

The moment all three of them entered through the chilling portal that sizzled lightning across his skin, Kakashi sprung into the room, unlike his usual opaque self, staring directly at him—him being 12-year-old Uchiha Sasuke—with a look of panic.

Sasuke had clenched at nothing but the wooden floors after falling on his knees from the perilous action, unable to see his sensei's expression until he felt a strong arm effortlessly lift him into his standing poise. His body had wobbled from abrupt weakness, and he had unintentionally sought the hand of aid for balance until he realized who it was and snatched it away. Embarrassed, he had shot a glare at the grown-up Uchiha who wasn't even looking at him anymore, but at his sensei. Sasuke hadn't even troubled himself by looking at the teenage Uchiha who he was sure was glaring at him right now.

(The teenager couldn't care less.)

Just looking at him made him wanna gouge his own eyes out.

(Ironic, isn't it?)

It was at that devastating moment that while taking a step forward so as to not fall behind the walking copies of himself, he felt his vision sway, and then he landed (with utmost elegance) on his bottom.

The 17-year-old had looked vexed and Sasuke shrunk in on himself but had done his best to match the glower shining behind his sunken eyes.

(He hadn't noticed how exhausted his older mirror looked.)

The adult, on the other hand, gave nothing away except for the barest inches of what seemed to be a concern, for he had reached for him. Sasuke, to save himself the humiliation, forced himself up and sat on the couch. He would've preferred standing, but he couldn't and he wasn't going to risk falling and hurting himself more.

(He was getting weaker and weaker.)

"What..." Came the weak murmur from his sensei, and Sasuke looked at him then, unable to adequately hide his distress and fatigue. It didn't mean he hadn't tried to. It was one thing to come in here weak as hell, and it was another to continue looking like a dying pig while resting. He needed to keep some of his pride.

"Kakashi," The Adult Uchiha greeted, though it sounded bland. "I assume you have questions."

The panic displayed on his sensei's face fell away to something resembling a deadpan.

"...What."

What a fucking way to start.

Sasuke looked away.

And he continued to do so, even now.

He sits, but the words tune themselves out.

There is ease, there is exhaustion, there is shock, and most importantly, there is—

Sasuke. Just Sasuke.

Because he pretends like he doesn't care for what's going on right now—not with what just happened, and not with how tired he is because surely the child is too tired to care.

12-year-old Sasuke sits on the opposite end of his teacher's couch, ears attentively (attempting, desperately) taking in every word that comes out of the three individuals in the taut room with him despite the lethargic rustiness crunching his bones and muscles. Palliative, deceiving exhaustion coaxes his body to lie and shut down but he refuses. Instead, he brutally centers the last of his energy into remaining awake, saying not a word, as his eyes dutifully guard the pristine floors that harbor the anklet of the adult version of him that ignores him.

The adult talks with his sensei that keeps glancing at him like he's on the verge of death or something and Sasuke would have found it aggravating if it weren't for the fact that he's just too tired to care. Care in the sense that mingles his sensei's pesky, eyeful habits with every trouble he's (admittedly) put himself into in the span of two or so hours.

This situates him into a contradicting loop: he, Uchiha Sasuke, 12-year-old Genin of Konohagakure, wants to be tired enough to not care, but mentally cannot be because he needs to hear this.

(He does not care for Kakashi's constant attention. Let him be ignored. He just needs himself.)

((Ironic, isn't it?))

Sasuke can feel his eye occasionally and he hates it.

He can't keep his hands from shaking, and can't keep his eyes from burning either; he's so tired, disconnected, and furious. He wants to sit still. He needs to.

(They'll see his weakness.

He is not weak.

He... he isn't.

Is he?)

This is nothing, and it is, and he knows it, and he doesn't care but he does but he doesn't.

He's so, so angry.

(He's so, so sad.)

"If not, I'll call for Jiraiya," The eldest Uchiha in the room voices, and Sasuke doesn't turn to look even though he's madly curious. He doesn't know who that is.

Nobody is telling him anything.

(He listens. He wants to say something, but no one has tried to hear him out this entire life. Evening. He meant evening.

He just wants to know.

He needs to know.

He is not a liability.)

"Jiraiya?" He hears the Teenage version of him mumble in controlled perplexity. He always sounds mocking. Why? "Why?"

"He's a seal master," Kakashi quips, and though Sasuke can't see, he can feel the eye of his sensei on him again. "Besides Tsunade."

He drowns out the rest of the conversation, slightly drowsy. But he can't sleep. He doesn't sleep, even. He won't.

He needs to listen to this.

(He repeats this to himself until it mingles with the background noise of chattering older males. He swears he hears Kakashi choke, his adult self sigh, and his teenage self scoff. To what, he's trying to figure out.)

"I've already contacted someone. There isn't a need to bring him into it," The juvenile grits, and Sasuke tries not to let himself bristle.

He dislikes him.

(Why does his own soul reject him?)

He feels so many things at once. He wants to cry, he wants to beat someone up, he wants to scream until his vocal cords rupture.

"Even I don't comprehend the full intricacies of this seal. It's best we take measured precautions and use what's available in this timeline." The most senior Uchiha expresses impassively.

He's just so angry.

Why? Why didn't either of his future selves want to help him? They know just what he's going through and they deny him?

(What has he done? He can't even listen to himself.)

He took a risk bringing them here and then they... they just don't... they don't even care.

They haven't even mentioned that... that man. They don't care.

And Sasuke doesn't understand.

He doesn't.

He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't, and he fucking doesn't.

He doesn't understand why both of them look and act so much like Itachi does. Did.

Sick.

Sickening.

His breath catches, but nobody notices it when he needs it. His heart accelerates and his vision swims but he forces himself to sit fucking still.

The teenage version of him—cruel and dismissive—looks at him coldly, like Itachi had after killing everyone he loved.

But...

(It makes him nauseated just thinking about it.)

The grown-up that he will become looks at him like he's seeing something sad. There is something in his eyes; life, melancholy? There's something. And he looks—he looks like—like how Itachi did before—

His stomach rolls and he swallows down the bile. Acid burns his throat and he almost throws up entirely at the taste of a rotting corpse, but he doesn't and sits still. He shouldn't feel like this. But he does, and he hates it, and he wants it all to stop.

(All the riveting emotions he's been attempting to pastedown overflow, moving the waves of sentiments over the edge of the already cracking dam. His shock, his fear, his exhaustion for it all—)

His eyes...

Sasuke recognizes his own eyes. He sees them almost every day, and though he is Itachi's brother, they do not look like his.

They don't. There is a resemblance that he's forever going to deny even though he knows it's there, but that's it.

But them...

His older selves don't have his eyes.

They have Itachi's.

(Hateful. Merciless.

Soft.

Kind.

Kind, kind, kind.)

Well—it looks like his. The same, dull grey shade enraptured by outer ebony encapsulates perfectly on their faces, and while the oldest Uchiha has only one—the teenager has them.

But the warmth is not there.

And he—

His stomach feels like it's rupturing when his abdomen flexes and his throat constricts with a burning, fetid, gurgle.

Despite himself, he pukes. Rancid, fast, and without warning, he heaves and splatters his earlier meal onto Kakashi's clean floors.

The chatter comes to a stop and Sasuke can suddenly feel everyone looking at him.

But at that point, he's shivering, doubling over, and promptly passing out from chakra exhaustion.

The last thing he sees is Itachi's eyes.

[. . .]

When Sasuke wakes up, he's sore but marginally better. There's that headache he gets after overworking his chakra system, but it's a pleasant welcome that buzzes with his chakra—but it's foreign too. It's lighter. Something is slowly feeding into his body, bordering and balancing the pain with a heavy freshness.

It circulates through his bloodstream in a pleasant hum, and the comfort is so great that it takes him a minute or so to realize that his body is moving and cold. He doesn't smell anything but the dirt of Konoha and... vomit, but he hears cradling breaths near his hair.

It's then that he jumps away from the dark shoulder thinking he's being kidnapped and falls onto the ground.

"You're awake," A deep voice states.

Sasuke looks up with squinting eyes, sore and alarmed, finding two shadows standing in front of him, watching.

The adult Uchiha gazes down at him with a disappearing purple hue that he can't help but transfix on, confused. To his right is the asshole adolescent.

"You're still disoriented," The man says, flickering his eyes about his sprawled form.

Sasuke, perplexed, turns his head onto his Teenage self who stares blankly. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks away, uncaring that Sasuke is on the damn floor.

At that, Sasuke can't help but scowl lightly. "Where am I?" He demands, looking around. He holds his head for a second, getting whiplash. He tries his best not to grimace.

The other two don't care to mention it.

"Your apartment," The man answers.

Sasuke blinks and slowly stands on thankfully steady limbs. Rubbing his head, he scrutinizes the entranceway of the apartment, noticing that his door is on the floor, broken off its hinges. He looks at the adult, expectant.

"Couldn't find the key," The oldest Uchiha informs.

(The two of them don't say that they could've crawled through the broken glass of his balcony door. Or that they could have opened the door from the inside out.)

Sasuke frowns. "Where's Kakashi?"

"Home," The teenager says before turning a corner and leaving the oldest and youngest alone.

Sasuke watches him leave, disgruntled, until his attention is caught by his adult version speaking again.

"Kakashi went to go inform the Third Hokage of our situation," He says, walking past him airily.

"Why?" Sasuke blurts.

How long was he out?

What time is it?

What did he miss?

"To avoid problems similar to the one we had in the forest."

He disappears behind the same wall the teenager went past.

Ignoring the pulsing ache in his head, Sasuke hurries after him.

"So?" He demands, glowering at him. "What else? What happened?"

There's a moment of silence before the man speaks again. "After you passed out we discussed what the scroll signifies and means. We came to the conclusion that it was another archaic Uchiha secret that had been found under intentional circumstances, seeing that Kakashi had questioned the woman at the shop where she got her wares with subtle hinting at time travel. Apparently, she calls herself The Last Uchiha Antiquarian," He angles his head at him, and Sasuke rubs his head, trying to remember. "She has no name and I have no memory of ever meeting a black-haired woman with red glasses."

Sasuke opens his mouth to speak, but the Uchiha isn't done.

"We also conversed about the matters of the scroll. There are several methods by which we could return to our time, allegedly. Kakashi recommended Tokubetsu Jounin Shiranui Genma, as he was part of the squad that learned how to use the Fourth Hokage's teleportation technique. He believed using it, combined with my portal jumping, would likely have the desired effect if done right."

Sasuke blinks. He hadn't expected him to answer nor of a potential power he may inherit. "Oh," He says lamely. "...How long until... until you go back?" He asks. The rage from earlier simmers down to contemplation, despite spiking for a second in bitterness when he remembers that they said no to him.

(Why is he being nice to him now?)

But the most aged Uchiha is being... cooperative with him. Conflict decides to flirt with his betrayal and confusion, and he has no idea how exactly to feel. Exhaustion is also pushing and pulling at him relentlessly, and so, momentarily, he has to concentrate on not falling into his embarrassment again. There's a lot he's thinking about, leading his thoughts into overdrive that is feasibly causing his disorientation. For example, why every time he chances a glance at the older male's inexpressive features, he sees the subtle aging lines beneath his eyes that are all too hauntingly familiar.

This sucks.

The two of them stop in front of the ridiculously dressed teenager gathering a hammer and nails. Sasuke stares, bewildered as the boy five or so years his senior straightens with attention. Why is he...?

The door.

Oh.

"It depends," The adult answers vaguely. "It'll take Jiraiya two weeks at most to get back to Konoha. If he's back before the designated time, we can begin working on a conceivable seal that will take about a week to perfect, including planning."

"A month," The awful adolescent surmises, clenching his jaw.

Sasuke frowns. "But why can't you do it?" He tells the grown-up, calculative and accusing. "You... You're strong, right? Don't you know...?" He trails off, grimacing when the man shakes his head. Why did he say that?

"It's dangerous. Severing the Chakra string that binds us together can be fatal. He attempted to cut it using his chakra because only ours can touch it," The man shifts his eyes to the gritty teenager, "And you passed out."

What.

Sasuke looks disbelieving at the teen who appears like he doesn't care. "What?"

"He thought breaking it apart could work," The adult looks at the oddly dressed youngster rather coldly, and the traumatized 17-year-old has the gall to scoff. "I had to feed you my chakra."

Sasuke scowls. "You tried to kill me to leave?" He demands from the juvenile, and he doesn't even bother looking at him.

(All he can remember is the mocking laughter echoing like a chanting misfit of sinister cruelty inside his ears. He had asked, had been denied, and had realized that if the barrier had not been there, he'd be dead.

He'd be dead.)

Angry, he opens his mouth to childishly remind his potential murderer (himself, of all people) that the chakra string is not something to be messed with, but he stops himself because the cloaked man holds a hand up to silence the room.

"He won't do it again," He says to him, and Sasuke thinks it's slightly threatening if not protective. "It was dangerous. What it did achieve, however, was to extend the capacity the string has. By giving my chakra to you, you fed into it. You're the source. This extension is likely another reason why you fainted. You're going to be experiencing a lot of chakra exhaustion throughout the weeks we'll remain unless I give you my chakra on a daily basis."

Sasuke eyes the shuffling teenager with disdain. "So we learned something?" He mumbles, rubbing his temple. "Is there anything else that might prevent me from... fainting?" He grinds his teeth at the word.

"There is one alternative. I'll see if I can transport the source to me. Otherwise, suspend from using your chakra too much," He tells him. It's said somewhat softly with a stern tone, and Sasuke freezes, being reminded of his father.

He's not my father, he spits vehemently inside his aching head as soon as the disgusting thought comes to the forefront.

Sasuke crosses his arms. What is wrong with him?

(Has being alone made him this pathetic?)

The 32-year-old inclines his head, likely thinking he's upset by what he's just been told. "That, or we could go at it the way the scroll wants us to get back to our time earlier and thus prevent this unnecessary hassle."

Both heads turn toward him.

Sasuke feels a wrong sense of dread. "What?" He asks, glaring at them. He clenches his hands onto the fabric of his shirt.

The cloaked man continues to stare. "I have one theory. The truth."

"The truth...?" Mumbles the confused child.

"Yes," Said man states. "About Itachi."

Sasuke's blood goes cold and he almost throws up again. His fists clench. "What... What about him?" He snaps.

Are they finally agreeing to train him? Are they finally getting it through their senses that Itachi needs to die? But the phrasing doesn't make sense if that's the case.

The truth?

What truth?

He knows it all. He's seen it firsthand. They probably haven't—

"But we will discuss this when you're less unstable."

Anger flares inside him like a volcanic tantrum. "Then let's do it now," Sasuke hisses. He's sick. He's so sick and tired of people pressing him down, stomping on what he needs to do. He's not... he's not a stupid kid! He's doing the world a favor by getting rid of Itachi! What if his brother tries to come back and kill his frie—his teammates? What if he tries to go back and finish him?

The entirety of Konoha isn't safe if he's still around! Why doesn't anyone understand?

Why don't they understand that he needs to avenge his clan?

Why don't they get it through their thick fucking skulls that this is something he needs—something he promised to do!?

The death of his clan and the empty walls full of blood-ridden memories are all the cause of the man who betrayed it all!

Sasuke won't give up. It may kill him, but he's going to do what he's meant to do.

The adult eyes him gloomily. "You're still recovering. You're in no condition to talk."

Bullshit. He's fine—

Just then, a dizzy spell provokes his body and he sways slightly. He catches himself on the wall, holding his head.

"Just tell him," The Teenager says, bored. He's gathering screws.

"You and I both know how erratic our minds were at that age," The adult says, giving the 17-year-old a berating look that he doesn't like.

Yet, as Sasuke reorients himself, he finds that the bitchy juvenile doesn't reply. Instead, the teen walks away, "Whatever."

It's too bad Sasuke can't gloat because he's already sliding down the wall, losing consciousness.

"Sleep," He hears the man say.

And he does because he can't fight the exhaustion off.

[. . .]

As nightfall becomes morning, he hears voices whisper and rouse him at random intervals as he slumbers his exhaustion away.

"Why tell him anything?"

"We both would have appreciated not being left in the dark."

Sasuke furrows his brows slightly. Who...?

"He's learning nothing."

"What he's learning is not to trust himself."

Sasuke breathes out, cracking his gooey eyes open.

"You know what I mean."

"I do know. You're being childish."

"Tch..."

Sasuke shuffles and the room becomes dead silent.

The 12-year-old squints past the illuminating pools of sun entering through the covered balcony window of his apartment, focusing on the two conversing Uchihas who pause when they notice his body angled to the side.

"You're late," The man stares blankly at him. "It's half past ten."

At that, Sasuke springs awake. "Wh-What!?" He says, hurriedly getting off his bed while rubbing his eyes. "Why didn't—"

"You were tired," The adult speaks. The teenager stays helpfully silent.

Sasuke has no time to actively figure out why the sight of the two of them together brings an immense, conflicting sadness. He gathers his wits and glares at them instead, quickly going for his closet to change and start for the day.

The two of them wait for him after he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and ready to leave.

"Let's go," He spits.

He opens the fixed door, stares at the decent handiwork, and then steps outside.

He's not warned when a purple haze emerges in front of him, and he withholds a yelp as he falls through, landing with surprisingly steady legs on the other side of a forest as he blinks past the dizzy wave that is brought upon the random portal. He whirls around with (suppressed) awe and anger, staring scorchingly at the two who step in line behind him. "You couldn't have warned me?" He demands, sulking, and the adult says nothing. Sasuke swears he sees something sparkle in his visible eye.

An eye, he notices again, that looks so much like Itachi.

He turns away, repulsed.

When he does, his eyes land on his team. Naruto, who sits with crossed arms and a furiously pouty expression, and Sakura, who lies by a wooden post with her knees pressed to her chest, reading a medical book. He hears his blonde-haired teammate grumble inconsistencies on Kakashi's lack of presence while the smart rosette shushes him from time to time. She even waves a threatening fist in his direction to make her silencing more effective, which renders Naruto quiet the next second.

They sit, calm and with nothing to worry about except the blazing heat.

Meanwhile, Sasuke has other particular shit to deal with. (Things that he put himself into.)

The three of them hide behind the rouse of several trees, a ways from them.

Kakashi, as usual, isn't around.

"Here," One of his other selves speaks before Sasuke can wonder what exactly went down the previous night in his sensei's presence.

Sasuke's scowl returns and he looks, only to be met with a brown paper bag that smells suspiciously like onigiri right in front of him.

He doesn't take it. "What's this?" He questions, bewildered, looking up at the stone-faced adult. (He doesn't see the juvenile version of him hanging back, watching his teammates with what seems like nostalgia.)

"Food," The man replies blandly. "You didn't eat. You'll pass out if you don't."

The gesture is... surprisingly kind.

But also extremely weird.

Taking the bag, he furrows his brows and opens it, looking inside. Just as he suspected, two triangular rice compacted with dry seaweed reveals themselves. Perfectly bound.

Why? This is the first coherent question that takes priority. Why is he giving me this?

Logic reinstates second. I didn't eat, he tells himself, grabbing for the item. It feels just right in his hands.

He doesn't want me fainting again, he advances with his rationale suit, eyeing the carefully prepared food. He feels a slight, ridiculously unreasonable sting inside his chest when he bites onto it, chewing heartily.

It tastes like mom's.

I'm a liability right now.

His two conflicting thoughts clash and he has an unexplainable urge to cry and hide at the same time.

His abrupt, vulnerable emotions make him angry the next moment.

Why am I sad? This is stupid.

He swallows. He bites again. He chews.

Furious at his unwarranted melancholy, he consumes the bite he took harshly enough to hurt on the way down. He hopes it's enough to repress the rawness beginning to form. He forcefully finishes the first one and then the second, quickly so that he doesn't have to deal with the absurd sentiments brought upon by a damn onigiri dish made by someone who makes it obvious they want nothing to do with him.

Then why make this?

Sasuke bunches the bag in further anger.

They don't need me being stupid and skipping meals. If I pass out again, I'll be carried like an idiot.

"I see you three made it."

The Three Sasuke Uchihas dart to their (former?) sensei perched mundanely on a tree above them. "Yo!" He throws up a two-finger salute when they notice him.

"Hn," The adult makes a reminiscing noise, and the younger Uchihas glance at him expectantly. "Anything to report?" His voice of authority merely causes Kakashi to crinkle his eye in joviality.

"No. Besides that our Lord Hokage wants to see you three, there's nothing else to say."

The air somehow becomes suffocating. The adults notice, and Sasuke certainly does too, but none of them say anything when it leaves just as suddenly as it came. The killing intent felt... felt like... Sasuke subtly looks at the teenager who gives nothing but utmost tranquility away.

Sasuke should've expected the Hokage to call them in at some point. Summoning his future selves is a warranted buzz to his office, after all. These things don't usually happen, especially not out of the blue. Or at all. What he hadn't expected is for the malignant energy to pierce the air.

It leaves him feeling sick.

"But!" Kakashi breaks the tension with pressure of his own, "We can get to that after training today."

And just like that, the focus is brought back to the original intention for waking up today.

Sasuke, confused, looks at the old Uchiha with narrowed slits. Questions bounce and he opens his mouth to ask why exactly his other self is so on edge because he knows that if he asks the teen he'll just refuse to answer, but that refuge in seeking knowledge is dropped by a noise of indignation rising to the left of him.

Naruto's accusing exclamation of "Kakashi-sensei! You're late!" is vertebrated across the entire training ground, and the four occupants not-so-hidden in the shade of various tall trees bring their regard toward the running Naruto heading their way. Sakura follows closely behind, and then—

Sasuke watches both his teammates freeze just a few feet from them.

Naruto's pointing finger falters, bewildered. "Wha..."

Sakura stares just as shocked that borders on confused, turning her head from him to the others.

Sasuke almost grimaces. Today will be annoying...

"You didn't tell them," The adult Uchiha voices aloud.

"I forgot," Kakashi chirps.

The resulting eye-twitch he receives is the first Sasuke sees of his adult self being annoyed.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"The only thing that remains for me... is to believe in them!"

[. . .]

Chapter 4

The Sun, The Earth, and The Moon

[. . .]

When 12-year-old Haruno Sakura stands from her comfortable position on the floor at Naruto's known holler, it's to glare at her sensei for being late and leaving them to cook under the sun's heat. Never mind that she could have rested in the shade or—or just went home. She has a lot of unpleasant things planned and is specially prepared to deliver a piece of her mind to the sadistic Hatake, uncaring if the repugnant terms are unladylike.

This is the last damn time, she promises vengefully, stalking with coiled fists toward where Naruto went.

Except, all of that goes down the drain when she discovers that her beloved—pest, more so—teacher isn't alone.

When she steps into the cool cover of leaves in the forest, her eyes halt mid-way and rove over to the two indistinguishable newcomers. She freezes.

"Ah," Her sensei's eye crinkles—curse him, "Naruto! Sakura! I didn't expect the two of you here so early."

Never mind her sensei's stupid comment or that he's three hours late. Sakura doesn't bother engaging her attention with him. Instead, her eyes land on an older boy with a white, open-chested shirt staring at her with a deadly impassiveness that has her pinned into the rubble of the upcoming afternoon. He's the most visible, the one that speaks out to her first with just his very being, and the sensation of something malignant yet frail pours out of him. But she's not paying heed to that feeling, not when it's his eyes that capture her very essence.

He looks like...

Instantly, her jade hues switch to the love of her life. The 12-year-old boy with his constant, blue attire and effortless forte to brush her away.

Uchiha Sasuke, in all his glory, stands as he usually does; with a stoic air to him that comes with his characteristic scowl directed her way. His arms are crossed and there's something hidden provoking her to study him more, something that starts to pull at her gears into a connection.

Familiar. Of course, though, it's her Sasuke-kun. She's seen him almost every day of her life.

An ever-present moon, because he is not the sun, but her lunar breeze on lonely nights. Excluding the fact that he never truly bothers to interact on a deeper level with her but...

Anyway.

The first thing that articulates in the girl's mind is how handsome he looks. Obviously. She'll never pass up a chance to check him out.

The second, and the most prevalent, is: Is that Sasuke's brother?

Something else beckons her to look at the tallest of the bunch, and the breath is knocked out of her when she finds that he's already staring at her.

Though, unlike the possible-Sasuke-kun's-brother, this one has something opulently benign to him. His hair, while not long to qualify as such, reaches barely past his chin that the soft breeze (that she's sure isn't there) moves it about. His left eye is obscured by the strands, but his other is visible. His body resides within an enclosed, long cloak, and if it were not day, Sakura would have not seen him. His chakra is hardly anything, but it's there.

He's so pretty.

And also looks a little bit like Sasuke.

Could he be...?

"Wha? Kakashi-sensei, who're they?" Naruto voices her clogged question, effectively breaking the trance of silence that unfortunately does little to tear away Sakura's analysis—that gradually develops into something decidedly amorous when her attention is once again brought to the older-looking boy.

While she can't see Naruto, she can feel him next to her, equally as entranced as she. He seems completely confused.

She's sure that for the time, she and Naruto can tell there's something more to these strangers than what meets the eye.

"They're... hm." Kakashi pauses, holding onto his chin in mocking thought. "Who are you?" He asks them, turning to the two strangers Sakura can't help but call beautiful in her head.

They're as pretty as Sasuke-kun! She blushes at the bold thought that arrives without consent into her head. Her heart beats wildly when the one in white blinks at her.

The two strangers stare at Kakashi, and she's too busy admiring them to take note of their irritation.

"...You never change."

The statement that comes out of the tallest is gauged with incredulity by Sasuke and his maybe-brother when he says it with an almost resigned sort of vexation. The handsome cloaked man pinches his nose with his soft assertion in following, and the hot older boy that looks a lot more like Sasuke regards him silently, with something that Sakura quite can't...

Sakura can't tell what he's feeling. He's so...

She blushes when she exchanges her eye candy with the boy she loves, hoping his engagement is on her. He's not looking at her anymore which sucks, and the look of doubt on his face is new. Still, she takes it to memory and looks at the pretty middle one now scrutinizing her (but really her and Naruto) with inexpressive reprieve.

She hears Kakashi-sensei clear his throat. "...Is that a compliment?"

Sakura watches the loftier, cloaked man narrow his eyes. "No," He answers plainly, and Kakashi-sensei looks a bit sulky at that.

Sakura has no idea what that means. It's confirmed now, at least, to her, that Kakashi knows them. Is this Sasuke's extended family?

"I told you to tell them," The man says blandly. His expression holds a mild ire, but it softens when he looks at her, and Sakura resists the urge to swallow her tongue on accident. When her training is over, she's going to tell Ino and rub it in her face.

An unexpected twinge asserts itself in her heart when she remembers that she and Ino had a falling out.

Peh! Inner scoffs, Who cares!? You've got sexy guys around you!

Right. Duh.

"I was busy," Her sensei articulates with no remorse.

He's not replied to.

Naruto decides he's annoyed and states the obvious. "They look like the bastard!" Naruto speaks out, once again, her innermost thoughts, scratching at his head.

Before Sakura can whirl on him and hit his head for insulting Sasuke and the strangers through Sasuke, Kakashi chimes in gleefully. "Good guess! They're the same person."

A beat of silence follows.

"Huh?" Sakura blurts after the rising muteness in the air stifles her lungs. Did I hear that right?

Naruto scowls. "Hah?! Liar! Sasuke's right there, datteba'yo!" The boy declares heatedly, looking at his sensei as if he thinks he's stupid.

Kakashi shrugs.

Meanwhile, Sakura is slowly succumbing to insanity. Her sensei's words ring in her head like a hopeful, unbelievable, echo, scratching at her eardrums. There's no possibility they could be—she's not—she's not stupid! Sasuke's right there, and—

Baffled, she stares imploringly at the two strangers with a new light, desperately searching for her love in both of their faces. Naruto's muffled noises of indignation against Kakashi go over her head as she lets her vision consume itself on them and only them, locking tight when her eyes bore into theirs.

Their eyes... I could get lost in them.

Focus!

A frown marks her face. The eyes don't look like Sasuke's.

They're not, because...

Well, they're just not. Even if they're both not exhibiting any form of sentiment that could give them away, their eyes look soft. The one in white that appears too much like Sasuke—oh, Kami, is Kakashi-sensei not trying to prank them right now? Her eyes widen—has them sharpened, more possessive, and yet they just don't look like his. Sasuke's eyes are... They're more passionate, more... fortified.

But the boy in white... his look empty.

And the cloaked man...

His eye is different too. Even if it's the only one she can see with an accurate portrayal, it doesn't match Sasuke's. But his is not devoid of sensation.

It's warm. It has passion, but it's mild. Gentle, somehow.

Cha! They have his nose and lips, pay attention!

She's so dumb.

But that's impossible!

Her breath hitches.

They...

Familiar, frizzing chakra reaches out for her and she stiffens.

No way.

Naturally, Sakura is the first to get it. Disbelieving, she laces her hand together in front of her like a hopeful schoolgirl, calculating. "Sasuke-kun...?" She breathes. Her vision sparkles with rose-tinted mirrors when the two of them look at her properly—she neglects that their expressions hardly change with that, because every conundrum she's been aligning into an answer stretches taut, offering her results that couldn't be true but are.

Her entire world shifts to the left.

That's...

"Wait..." Naruto stops indicting Kakashi-sensei as a psychopath as she processes the absurdity of his mystifying assertion of being who she guessed, "You're saying... You!? You're this bastard, datteba'yo!?" The sunshine boy screeches, eyes wide and pointing accusingly at the smallest Sasuke as he darts his head back and forth between the sneering pre-teen and him.

"We both are," The adult continues, steadily ignoring the eyes of Kakashi drinking him in. The other stranger, the teenager Sakura never stops looking at, doesn't say anything to confirm or deny it. (And to think she thought that it was his brother. They look almost exactly the same!)

"You..." Her voice is soft.

All the attention is on her, again. Naruto's mouth is left gaping, and they must make a sight; Sakura understands they're both waiting for her.

This... That's Sasuke-kun!?

Her entire face blooms into a cherry red.

Kyaaa! He's so, He's so—!

Her body annexes deeply as her pupils blow wide.

Her ears fail to capture Kakashi-sensei's explanation. (She manages to grasp time, the future, and how they came to be, but it's inevitably lost. She's completely absorbed in them.)

The concept of these men being Sasuke's from the future hasn't set in just yet, but it's slowly intermingling in the back of her mind.

"I think you broke her," Kakashi wisecracks.

She almost melts.

Almost.

The crushing reality of Naruto's exclaimed screech of 'WHAT' is what breaks her out of it.

Comically, almost at the same time as her idiot blonde teammate, Sakura blurts out, "How!?"

[. . .]

Shadow Hokage Uchiha Sasuke wonders how his former sensei is feeling. He can't get an accurate read on him, unlike the previous evening when he'd been rightfully suspicious of them. While Sasuke isn't one to care for someone else's feelings, he gives an exception to this Kakashi because he's still the man who has issues with keeping secrets close, seeing that he has already blathered to his Hokage; ever the loyal man.

The action of splattering out the situation to the Hokage hadn't made Sasuke angry. It settles his unease somewhat, mostly because at least now he won't be attacked by an ANBU guard out in broad daylight (though that remains to be seen considering Danzo is still out and about) and risking his younger selves into jeopardy (though he knows the eldest of the two can handle himself rather fine). He is extremely vexed, however.

Last night he'd done his best to let his former sensei know of the situation and hoped, with how his teacher relaxed, it had eased some doubts.

(Perhaps it's why he's acting as he usually did in his Genin days.

But Sasuke isn't stupid to disregard how tense he appears.)

It turns out it hadn't. Now the Hokage wants a meeting with them and he's going to have to deal with a broken fuse of a teenager that might attempt murder and cause ampler chaos than needed. If Konoha is attacked by his past recklessness, there's no telling what might ruin the coming time for his youngest self. He also doesn't need the Genin finding out more than a little at a time about Itachi and risking potential dissociative shock. Now as an adult, he's frankly too emotionally stunted to deal with a second angry teenager in the mix. Compared to him, Sarada is a damn angel.

Sarada.

He exhales softly through his nose. Usually, thoughts about his daughter bring him pride and joy, but now, far away from home in a potentially different timeline, her image brings stringent distress.

This entire damn thing is a mess he'll need to figure out a solution fast. He hopes his time hasn't been erased. He hopes his wife and child still exist.

He hopes that it's not too late.

Talking about it isn't helping either, but he knows he must do this because he's going to develop a bigger headache if the younger versions of his teammates relentlessly devote themselves to being irritating.

Ever his annoying confidante that shouldn't ever be considered as such, Sasuke watches dispassionately as his sensei makes him do all the work in explaining to little Naruto and Sakura that he's not from their time. He delivers it quickly and to the point, taking a brief five minutes that leaves the area silent.

They gaze upon him with incredulity.

That's another thing.

When he'd seen the younger face of his sensei, it hadn't affected him much. Sure, to see the man he'd once called a mentor younger than him was an awkward experience, but it's nothing compared to seeing his teammates. His tiny, child teammates.

It's complicated when the company of his Blonde best friend and wife is nostalgic. Melancholic recollection incorporates nicely with the delight of childhood because this Naruto has yet to have a friend abandon him for selfish causes. This Naruto, the knuckle-headed idiot that inspires many with his endless shenanigans, is so different from the tired man he's come to know.

His expressions are more pronounced. More hurt.

And Sakura...

Sakura has come far from the girl he once knew. This Sakura, the bashful, kind 12-year-old is an eye-opening revelation. She's nothing like the woman he now calls his wife, who's confident, compassionate, and headstrong. This is just the start, he knows. The start of who they will become.

And yet it's all the same.

Everyone is.

It's why he voiced as such earlier with Kakashi because he couldn't help but realize that his precious people never truly changed. It was him that changed, and thus caused them to do so, spiraling a domino effect that Sasuke is thankful didn't ruin everything.

Seeing them here, acting as he always remembered them, is a sucker punch to the gut.

But it's not so bad, he muses as he watches Sakura gaze at him with the world in her eyes and Naruto with idolizing shock. He knows them well in his own time. He knows that they loved him, and still love him. They always have. He's not alone anymore. He never was.

(He supposes that uneasy feeling is his past guilt he's come to atone as best as he could that he has ever hurt the people he loves most.)

"I'm confused!"

Sasuke allows Naruto to tug on his black cloak, scrunching the fabric. "Which one is who? You can't be Sasuke. You're not... short!"

"Idiot," His Genin-self quips heatedly, "We're all the same person. They're just," He gives him a look and Sasuke isn't blind to notice it. "Older." It seems that whatever disturbance the youngest Uchiha has with him hasn't gone away. Whatever he might have seen on his face must've been a trigger—his eye is his best bet. Anyone can tell that his eye is much more temperate than that of his younger counterpart. It doesn't belong to him. Neither do.

In fact, the evening prior, Kakashi had asked him the same thing. Obviously, the teenager had shut him down, but Sasuke conveyed an earnest regard that had his sensei looking positively distraught for a second, before masking it with his usual indifference.

Knowing that his student achieved his goal of killing a brother is a haunting confirmation that Sasuke won't blame his Sensei for feeling squeamish.

"I know you're all Sasuke! I'm not stupid, datteba'yo!" Naruto enunciates scorchingly, obviously. The sunshine boy pauses. Wait...

Sasuke tries to strive off the headache he feels coming up. "...You can call us by different names," He suggests with disinterest, understanding little Naruto's dilemma quickly. He's had enough years of Naruto's stupidity to comprehend the language of Moron.

Everyone stares at him.

"Huh," Kakashi seems to agree, "That's not a bad idea."

"You're nice!?" Naruto's mouth is open in disbelief.

Sasuke's eye twitches.

"Either address me by my name or not at all," The teenager grouches. Nobody even asked him, but Sasuke keeps that comment to himself. It's not very adult-like of him. He wonders why the urge to disparage his younger selves is prominent. Is this what Itachi saw? Internally, he feels admittedly unsettled. He's not this indulgent, is he? Has Sarada been subjected to his funny side, before? She called him annoying, though, so probably not.

Visibly, he slightly dampens. It must be karma, he mopes.

"Oh, oh!" Naruto beams up at him, and it takes Sasuke everything in him not to flick his forehead, "I know, I know! I can call you Uncle!"

What.

He stares. He then realizes everyone is waiting for a reaction from him.

The kid Uchiha looks wary like he expects him to get angry while also appearing downright, unrepentantly offended. The juvenile looks dumbfounded until he realizes Sasuke's staring at him, so he dutifully composes his face into his careless facade. Kakashi is surprisingly disturbed, Naruto's beaming at him, and Sakura looks like she wants to argue against it.

The name is horrific. Why Naruto abruptly came up with such a dreadful thing is beyond him, but he's not keen on finding out. At this point, anything works. It's not like he's going to die from it.

(He totally doesn't feel tender-hearted at the notion that Naruto thought him close enough to address him with such a liking correspondence.

He also totally doesn't feel like he wants to hide. Seriously, what the fuck? He is nobody's oji-san.

Boruto comes to mind.)

"...Fine." Every fiber of his being denies his affirmation. His heart, however, is the only organ whooping with something akin to joy.

Pesky shit.

"Wh-you're letting him?" The Uchiha 12-year-old hisses at the same time as Naruto's whoop of joy.

I know. He agrees internally.

Sasuke can't help it, to be honest. These are the people he cares about. And seeing them so tiny... It reminds him of their kids. Sarada, Boruto. Himawari too, but he sees that more in the Hyuuga than anything.

Still, to put on a veneer (because despite it all, he's still Uchiha Sasuke, Naruto's rival) he explains his leniency with, "That way he can address you as Sasuke, and you," He looks at the teenager, "as Uchiha-san." It's somewhat of an excuse. The fooled youth contemplates the answer but it seems the grumpy one is less than amused.

Naruto moves his coat around erratically in refusal. He swipes his hand off. "Those names are boring—"

"Perfect!" Kakashi interrupts gleefully, clapping his hands together. "Now we can begin training. We've wasted enough time. It's almost noon!"

"And who's fault is that!?" Sakura, Naruto, and even his Genin self proclaim at the man who shrugs.

Sasuke is glad about it. "We'll wait by the trees," He states and moves toward the woods before they can answer. He's had enough. If he spends any more time with them they're going to find out he's actually a fucking softie. Not that they would realize it. Being around them is causing erupting migraines of the nth proportion and he's likely to get his blood pressure up and concoct a trauma-inducing exercise so they shut up if he's not careful.

The teenager gladly follows suit, and Sasuke doesn't need to look at him to know that he's grateful to get away.

It's a little funny that he still harbors his younger tendencies.

When he sits on the grassy shade facing them, they're already engaged in their own world. Still, he sees the lingering shine on Naruto and Sakura that distracts them every few seconds. The youngest Uchiha too, also sneaks passing glances his way, and whenever he's caught he glares. Like it's embarrassing.

They're such kids.

They were.

Life sped by too fast.

Unintentionally, his mind ventures back to his time. How must Sakura and Sarada be doing, he wonders? Is Sakura expecting him home for dinner? Has Sarada already informed Naruto? And Naruto? Is this situation placing more stress on him now that he's lost the second hope of the Shinobi world to unexpected circumstances? Has Kakashi been comforting the new Team 7 after his absence? In truth, he doesn't know if time continues when he's not there.

He doesn't know if it even exists anymore.

His chest gives a sharp twist.

He won't know what he'll do if that's the case. He has grown too much from the hateful boy he once had been. As unfortunate as these aspects are, he knows in his heart he won't condemn the 12-year-old he had been. If the Kakashi of this time is right in his theory declared the previous evening and the scroll implies that his time might have shifted into something he may not recognize when he returns, then he's probably going to go insane.

But he won't be angry. He knows.

Angry at the bad luck he always carries yes, but never at the boy who thought it had been his last hope.

He tries to rid his mind of his pessimistic thoughts.

He'll find a way to fix this. He has to.

Jikkan Rewritten.

That's the line Kakashi had said felt off. He couldn't read it with his normal eye so he had to use the Sharingan, and Sasuke had been speculating the same thing. Does that phrase correspond to this timeline, the teenagers, or his own?

Frustration builds and he clenches his hand. Who the hell would do this? Why him specifically?

"I couldn't get a good look at her face," Kakashi confessed, handing him back the scroll.

Sasuke furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?" He demanded, searching his face.

Kakashi frowned, thinking. "I mean, her face was blurry. At the time I could see it, but when I try to remember, nothing accurate comes to mind. As if she never existed," He prompted and then rubbed his closed eye. Like it was irritated.

"Genjutsu," The teenager gritted out.

"Then I wouldn't remember her at all, would I?" Kakashi said, and that had the three of them thinking.

Something clicked in Sasuke's head. "You must be tied to us somehow, which is how you remember," He theorized, studying his former sensei's taut poise. "You're right. When we searched the area, the cabin was in ruins. There was no evidence anyone had lived there recently. As if there was never anything there, to begin with."

"Or it's because he touched the scroll," The teenager inputted.

Three pairs of eyes looked down at the small thing in Uchiha's hand.

"Was there anything distinct about her?" Sasuke asked carefully, tucking it back in. White shreds of chakra bubbled but disappeared. Had it tried sucking in Kakashi's chakra?

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "Glasses," He revealed. "Red."

Something sinister told him that whoever had given his younger self this scroll was fundamentally, irrevocably, tied just to him.

Coming back from the memory, Sasuke sits with a disturbed feeling flooding his veins. He knows two people with red glasses. The first is a highly culpable subject, but the second... The second doesn't want to be considered at all.

But it makes no sense.

Neither Karin nor Sarada would be behind this fiasco. Unless Sarada was coerced by Boruto to indulge in stupid forbidden-scroll activities, and then did this by accident. Or Karin had been messing with Orochimaru's research and fucked something up. But then again, why would they go through the trouble of giving his younger self something as complex as this?

"A woman," Kakashi said. "It was a grown woman."

It can't be Sarada, he surmises, feeling cold. She's too young.

It can't be Karin either. She wouldn't go through all this effort. Not even with him, anymore. She knows he belongs to Sakura now.

"It's a time scroll," Kakashi observed. "That much is obvious."

Time...

Unless that is Sarada. Just not from his time.

(His soul gives a lurch but he passes it off as the thought being too terrifying to him.)

He feels sick.

"You still care about them." He senses the second oldest lean against the tree two hours later, where he still resides watching them train because there's not much else to do but wait. Wait and drown himself in theories.

His presence was long detected so Sasuke isn't startled. What it does do is break him away from his wayward train of subconscious thought, and he's reminded that he's still in the past.

The teenager waits for his response.

Sasuke's not surprised that he's searching for answers. At his age, he was trying to get the remaining members of Team 7 to stop giving a damn about him. He was trying not to care about them in return. He must think he's alone in the world. "Why wouldn't I? There's no one else." He answers smoothly, and it's true. While he may have made amends and could ask for the other Rookie 9 or Kage should serious worldly concerns arise, it's not the same with them. He can't ask others for help on personal things.

Who else is there if not them?

Beside him, the youth goes quiet.

Then, "Are you going to stop me?"

Sasuke side-eyes him. That was fast. He has been waiting since this morning when they talked about his Genin self's right to know things for the angsty teen to bring it up. "That depends on what you do," He answers indifferently.

The teen's eyes harden. "You know what I'm going to do."

"I do."

"But you're not saying anything. You're not making an effort to stop me."

"Should I?"

"You should." The teenager glares at him with warning. "I'm going to destroy Konoha. I'm going to get rid of the Council, the Hokage, and that piece of shit Danzo. They're a fucking stain."

Sasuke's not surprised by the news. He's been detecting the not-so-subtle fluctuating chakra of his adolescent self ever since Kakashi mentioned the meeting with the Hokage. He shrugs, nonpulsed at his promised threat as he casts a quick genjutsu to hide their incriminating conversation. "Then I will intervene. But solely because it should be done a different way," He pauses a moment, gauging the teenager's abrupt capture of attention. "...Danzo can be killed. I don't care about that thing. But there are other ways."

"If you're talking about replacing the council and the Hokage, then you're a fool if you think that'll be enough for me," The teenager snarls, "That's not enough. Not for what they did."

He's too emotionally tired to deal with this. With the stacking risks and the constant reminder of his past, Sasuke'a patience is starting to dwindle below the positives. And it isn't the verity that his past self is talking about his vengeance that's doing it. It's because he's doing so within what is meant to be a safe vicinity. He's talking about destroying Konoha when he knows well that he's looking at kids who don't even know the full extent of the unforgiving Shinobi world.

And this, this angers him. Because the guilt he's spent eons trying to repent for is resurfacing (a small amount, but enough because even after everything, even if he has prioritized remaining positive for the future, he had made such a negative impact on the world. On his loved ones), and if he doesn't say something now, he knows the teenager will hurt the people he cares about.

His sadness, always, manifests into anger.

(Sadness for the sins he's done. Sadness, because he knows he needs to help his younger self, see a better path. A path better than grief and suffering.)

He is still Uchiha Sasuke, after all.

Sasuke sharpens. "And then what?" He demands, making the youth subtly flinch at the abruptness of it. His voice is softly elicited, but his tone is similar to the jagged end of a knife. "After you destroy Konoha, then what? You'll go look for Itachi? You'll live your happily ever after, leaving behind thousands without a home?" The knife cuts.

The teenager's chakra spikes dangerously, and he opens his mouth to refute, but Sasuke cuts in before he can.

"You're being foolish. Raging Konoha to the ground won't achieve anything but another mess to fix. Your quest for revenge is unfounded on the populace. Naruto and Sakura had never realized the entire extent of it. They were both children, as were you." Earlier stresses bite at his heart and he curses at himself for letting his anger get the best of him. The way the teenager is looking at him... with bitter contempt and disbelief that he would deny him... His intention had not been to harm. All he wants is for him to see that his shot at making a difference is only going to make everything worse.

(Karma, he thinks, follows him at every stage.

It's so difficult being him. It's so difficult to make years of pain see a reason beyond hate.)

The 17-year-old flickers his eyes across his face, searching for what he doesn't know. He had been too unpredictable at this age. Too emotional.

Too hurt.

Groaning, Sasuke pinches his nose. "Look, whatever it is you're planning to do, it won't work. Hurting people for our benefit is impractical, not to mention cruel." He's too old for this. He's spent his time mourning and atoning. The universe must despise him for sending him back to rectify what he went through once.

The teenager looks away with crossed arms. "Why?" He hisses, "They didn't care when our people were slaughtered."

Sasuke sighs, annoyed. He doesn't remember acting so childish. Then again, when he had been seventeen, he had nobody to act out on. Nobody to divulge his emotions to, except with violence to shinobi who were already attacking first. Naruto, ultimately, had been the one to unlock that receiving end. "Not everyone hated the Uchiha. Not everyone wanted the massacre. Believe it or not, some people had disagreed and condemned our brother for his actions forced upon by Danzo."

That only made the adolescent angrier. "Then they should die for disrespecting his name!" He spits his words with such raging conviction that Sasuke can't help but sadden. Red eyes of fury pinpoint into his tired ones.

He knows how this feels. He's been in that position before, for Kami's sake. He knows.

He knows, and that's why he can't let him go through with it.

"They don't know," Sasuke says candidly, turning away and hinting that this conversation is over.

"They should have."

"How?" His eye coils with exhaustion, watching the slowly diminishing teenager curl into his impassive countenance. "If we didn't until it was too late?"

As soon as he states that, he bares witness to the contortion of the teen's face before he jumps into a tree not that far from him, facing away. His chakra ripples. And then quiets.

The sound Genjutsu dispels.

And, again, Sasuke is left to wither in things he knows are necessary.

(He doesn't fail to acknowledge that the boy did not attack.)

[. . .]

Sakura can't stop staring at him. She stands off to the side beside a wooden post full of shuriken—ignoring Naruto on the opposite side who argues with Kakashi-sensei meaninglessly about being taught something else other than the taijutsu he desperately needs coordination on—starry-eyed and with her hands hugged jointly in front of her.

Sasuke—her Sasuke, the 12-year-old—is busy with his own target, shooting dirty glares in her direction to make her look away from his future selves, and she does with a blush when she realizes she's been blatantly staring, but the tallest Uchiha Sasuke makes no indication he's annoyed at her invasive eyes.

He looks like he doesn't care. She's been trying to show off for the past few hours, hoping she could impress him (because approval from Uchiha Sasuke makes her feel cool) but he hasn't said or done anything that gives off praise. Understandably, she sulks when she doesn't get what she wants, but it doesn't deter her from continuing.

She even tried on the quietest Uchiha she thinks gives off the cutest aura, but he was not even looking at her. He's sitting up on a tree, looking somewhere else. The wind blows through his white baggy shirt, so instead of him paying attention to her she's seized in his perfection, which, if not for the help of her angry Uchiha teammate telling her to concentrate, would have kept her distracted.

How she hasn't passed out from so much blood reaching her brain is a shock but she's far too invested in the prospect of having three Uchiha Sasuke's around her environs.

When she throws the last of her ninja stars and lands them in the center, she smiles to herself at her progress. Then, like a moth to a flame, her attention shifts from her celebration to the sitting Adult Uchiha for the approval she expects to be overlooked. Shockingly, he's looking at her.

When she notices, she visibly jumps and plasters a big, bashful smile the next instant. He nods at her, and she withholds from screaming like a fangirl.

(Which, she is. But. After the waves mission, she's been left realizing that loving a boy in her superficial way will get in her way as a ninja. Still, she hasn't let go, because the horrors are absolute, and loving a boy is a comforting distraction from it all.

She's... She'll acknowledge she's scared if she keeps thinking about how rotten the ninja world is.

She doesn't want Sasuke to know.)

In her joyful recognition, she raises a hand and waves before ducking it back down. Surely, this Sasuke won't find it nice that she's bothering him. Waving is too much!

To her surprise and absolute glee, the man waves back.

Cha! She internally glees, unable to hide the wide open-mouth grin that transcends onto her girlish features. He noticed! Any attention from Sasuke is... amazing! It gives her enough confidence to act on what she has wanted to do since she found out who they are, and with a skip in her step, she drops her training and focuses on her chance.

Sakura, quietly, walks to the tranquil man. "Um... hi!" She squeaks, smiling all bright and bashful.

"Hello," He expresses politely, inclining his head. There's no trace of a smile or anything congratulatory, but that's fine! He spoke to her!

She looks across at the boy in the next tree over for the same but is dismayed when he looks away the moment their eyes meet.

"Did you need something?"

The geriatric Uchiha's question startles her and she whips her regard back at him, flushed. "U-Um..." The question wasn't harsh. "I... um! I just wanted to say hi! Hehe..." She rubs her arm, swinging from left to right. She bites her tongue from asking if he saw what she did. He nodded his head earlier so she knows he acknowledged it. Asking would probably make her seem like she's fishing for compliments, which she totally isn't doing!

He says nothing to that. It's a bummer, she thinks because his voice sounds so pleasing to the ear.

Nervous, she tries smiling. "Um... How... how are you?" Her arm twitches for a facepalm. She could do better than that.

He remains silent and she deflates. Maybe Sasuke doesn't like talking to her still, in the future? The thought alone makes her heart hurt. It's okay, though! Sakura won't push him to talk. They can sit next to each other in silence—

"I'm okay," He answers finally, and she perks up. "And you?"

"I'm great!" She blurts eagerly and then clamps her mouth shut. Her blush pronounces itself more when he just stares at her.

Stupid, she curses at herself.

Thinking, she looks at the one in white. "And... And you?" She shyly asks with a louder voice. She doesn't want any Sasuke feeling left out!

He doesn't reply. He doesn't even look at her.

That does hurt more. But, that's okay. Sakura won't push. Again, they can be together in silence if he prefers—

"He's tired."

Sakura snaps her head at the oldest Sasuke. "Tired?" She inquires curiously. Is he okay? Does he need sleep? She'll leave if she's bothering him—

The man nods. "He's had a rough day."

Movement on her right has her looking at the teenager again, and to her surprise, she sees him glaring at the tallest Sasuke. But he doesn't say anything.

"Oh," She says lamely, rubbing her elbow. "M-May I ask why?" She bites her lip. The cloaked man stews over her question and she hastily adds in, "Nevermind!" Because she's not going to butt her nose in business that isn't hers. Even if she really, really wants to know. She can give him medicine for it if he needs it! Or, she could give a massage because sometimes muscles are strained and he looks like he trains a lot...

He doesn't say anything to that either. She swallows.

Unsure of how to proceed, she takes a few moments to collect herself. She came to him for a reason (multiple reasons besides ogling) and she's going to accomplish it now that she has the opportunity, damn it.

"Are you really... Sasuke from the future?" She meekly asks, staring at him with deep novelty.

"I am," The oldest replies. The teenager doesn't bother, but he does pay close attention, now. She's not directly looking at him, though, but she can feel his eyes.

(The gaze is intense.)

"Do you um..." She looks away, "Are you strong?"

Dumb question!

"I would like to think so," Comes the response.

So humble!

When she turns, she finds a teasing glint in his eye. She can just... tell. His face is otherwise blank.

Before she can think, she blurts out her second question. "Are you married?"

The entire ground falls silent.

Sasuke, her Sasuke, stops (why does he look like he's pretending?) collecting his metal batches, and stares at her like she's insane; Naruto is baffled, Kakashi raises an eyebrow in nonchalance, the Teenage Sasuke narrows his eyes, and the Adult Uchiha...

The suspense arouses the area that seems to have been spying on her conversation with the hot man. Were they searching for any malice? Were they expecting him to be mean to her? Did they expect her to start freaking out because hello, Uchiha Sasuke has tripled!? "...I am." He finally answers after a hesitant pause that took three agonizing minutes.

The training ground erupts into constipated chaos.

"What!?" Naruto shouts, dropping his kunai and dislodging his jaw from how wide it becomes while gaping.

Sasuke has turned white, looking nauseous, Kakashi is mildly impressed and knowing, and the teenager composes himself before he can fall from his position on the tree.

"To who?" Naruto and Sasuke shoot out at the same time. Sasuke catches himself and backs down slightly, but his prominent stupefaction remains.

Sakura is appraisingly shocked.

(Married!? So he's actually married!? To who!? Oh, Kami. It better not be Ino! Maybe... Maybe it's her! Maybe!?)

Her breathing picks up dangerously and she can't tell whether she's going to throw up from excitement or atrocity.

"Take a guess," The adult Sasuke says. He appears annoyed.

"Naruto," Kakashi quips unhelpfully.

"No," The adult deadpans.

All eyes land on Sakura.

She flushes from head to toe. "Wh-Wh... Really!?" She exclaims, jaw hanging out.

Oh, Kami. This is it. This is where she dies.

Does... does her dream come true!? Oh, oh—she feels dizzy.

"I'm not going to confirm that," The Adult says passively. But. It's too late. It's too late because Sakura isn't stupid, and Sakura is also a little insane and she can't believe that—

Her mind goes blank.

There's... Is she!? She...

She faints.

"I think training's over," Kakashi drones, putting his book away and staring at Sakura's sprawled body with exhaustion. He darts to each of them with a serious aura about him. "Hm. Naruto, make sure Sakura makes it home safe. I'll be busy this afternoon."

The Golden Child shakes his head and then starts wrangling his sensei's flak jacket. "Shouldn't we talk about this!?" He exclaims, horrified as he meets his sensei's careless eye. The Hatake even lets him throttle him around like a ragdoll. "And where ya goin', anyway!? This—Didn't ya hear, datteba'yo!? This bastard is married! To Sakura-chan!" Naruto clamors, and then he gasps in horror. He runs to the Uchiha, "Why are you married!?" He growls.

The 12-year-old Sasuke struggles against his teammate's crazy manhandling. "What the—let go of me, you dumbass!" He shoves him but even he is rightfully spooked by the news. He can't even muster a proper glower at the boy who continues screaming about it being impossible that an unfeeling loser like him somehow gets a girl.

Am I really married? He thinks, shaking in place. To Sakura?

Kakashi, of course, ignores all of this. "See you at the Hokage Office!" He says with a jovial wave at the brooding Uchiha and body-flickers away from the mess.

Naruto yells at the sky.

The only adult left is forced to take matters into his own hands—well, hand. He stands and goes to Sakura, lifting her easily into his arm. "We're leaving," He announces indifferently, checking her pulse to make sure she's okay.

Naruto whips his head to him, eyes wide with surprise. It quickly becomes something challenging. "Hey! Are you lying!? Wait!" He stumbles up and goes to him, "Who gets married first!? Me or you!?"

The place is silent.

"You do," The adult surmises with no emotion. "We need to go." He hands Sakura to a dead-silent Naruto contemplating life. "Make sure she gets home."

"Wh... I'm married..."

The adult hums and turns away. He leaps into the trees, and the other two follow after him after the pull of their chakra reminds them that they indeed, still exist.

[. . .]

"Are we really married?"

32-year-old Sasuke looks at his Genin-self blankly, leaping easily onto a steadier surface. The boy looks nervous, but he's pushing desperately to hide it.

He feels a little bad. "...I'm not going to say anything," He decides, but apparently it's too late on the matter.

The boy almost slips and falls in the next jump and he sighs in defeat. Of all things to come up... And he can't even complain because it's his fault. He should've just lied. "If I tell you yes, will you stop stumbling?" He deadpans, waiting for the boy to right himself on the rooftop. He does it slowly with a shallow breath like the news has knocked the wind out of him and left him to die. His face is also a prominent red.

"We're married."

The teenager looks disturbed when he turns to him, speaking up on the matter. A rare conjunction Sasuke finds, but honestly doesn't want to give too much engagement. Is the potential of marriage so terrifying? He halts, staring at the two waiting boys that are clearly struggling to find purchase on the mind-boggling news. Well. Maybe being married to Sakura for so long has made him forget that the oldest of the two boys never thought there would be someone who loves him, and the youngest is too appalled that he's somehow up and married a girl he might find annoying.

(He's not dumb. As a Genin, he's had a crush on Sakura that was stuffed into the deep reserves of his sane mental state for the power he craved. As a teenager, he had been forced in his hormonal pretenses to forget about Sakura's strength which he found too pretty. As the main girl in his life, Sakura had been a visage of both beauty and willpower, and he honestly couldn't help it.

Nobody knows this, though. He never told anyone, but his wife insists she knows his secrets he might have blathered once when he had drunk with her underneath the forgiving stars.)

Sasuke ignores that comment anyway. "When we get to the Hokage office, behave," He warns, and the teenager is quick to flash a warning red-eyed stare.

But just as his malice hints across his expression like a promise, he's fast to compose himself. "Hn," Is all he says, which neither confirms nor denies his allegation of temporary good conduct.

It'll do, for now. If not, he knows what he'll need to do. His Sharingan can override theirs. If push comes to shove, he'll force him to behave. (Though, if Danzo is in the room, he won't be so forgiving to let the man stand.)

When the child Uchiha is stable, they continue, and Sasuke ignores the questioning glances from the tiny boy that looks close to chakra exhaustion again.

That gives him pause. "Wait," He declares, and they attend him questionably. His body fully turns to face the Genin, and his hand latches onto his arm. "I'm going to give you a bit of my chakra. Your reserves are nearly close to rendering you with chakra exhaustion."

The child straightens, almost like he forgot. He might have. And because he's so stubborn, he wouldn't have said anything about his tired state until he collapsed on the floor.

Carefully, he remembers Sakura's instructions and regulates a decent amount of his energy to his palm, which then struggles to penetrate the pores of the boy's skin. It breaks through with a slight sting, connecting with one of the running strands he can see with his Rinnegan. Because this is his own chakra it won't hurt the boy. It'll just break apart the foreign density until it smooths out into the stream.

Ten minutes pass after pumping his chakra steadily (because if he goes all at once it'll burn his coils) when the boy talks. "Your eye..."

Sasuke doesn't disparage his concentration. One wrong move has the potential for injury.

(He will never understand how Sakura does this so easily.)

"What is it?" The boy asks.

Sasuke exhales. "The Rinnegan." He answers plainly.

"I thought it was a myth," The teenager murmurs from his side.

"In my time, it might as well be," He answers him, switching to another circulatory vein of chakra before he burns the first one he used. His wife's instructions were very clear. Every couple of minutes he'll need to switch areas or else that specific region would become inflamed and damaged.

The boy eyes it with wonder. "Why?" He questions.

"I'm the only one who has it," He says. He doesn't add the instances between the aliens that arrived carrying further powerful dojutsu.

The boy looks like he wants to say more.

"Spit it out," Sasuke demands.

Perking up, the Genin does as such. "...Are we the strongest?"

The question is so innocent. It's such a childish thing to ask even though he can see the dark intent that hasn't quite manifested fully. He pulls his arm away when he surmises he's given him enough. "No," He says truthfully. He doesn't dwell on how sad that question makes him. Despite it all, and even though he knew, he really had been just a child.

A greedy, lonely child.

The two of them are within his sights and even though one of them hardly changes his expression, he can sense their disappointment. He continues. "There's only one man who is stronger than us."

The child looks confused. "Who?" His scowl returns at not being told.

The teenager's eyebrow twitches. It better not be who I think it is, is written across his face.

Sasuke turns around before they can see his poor excuse of a smile.

[. . .]

The transient sociable mood plummets as he stops right outside the Hokage Tower's entrance, enunciating the problem that is now at hand. Killing intent begins to leak from the missing-nin Uchiha to his right immediately, and Sasuke gives him a sharp look of warning. "Don't," He threatens, but the teenager doesn't care for it. He hadn't expected anything else.

At this point, he'll need to ask Kakashi to reschedule.

It just delays the inevitable, he grumps.

"I'm going to kill him," The teen rejoinders and Sasuke notices the white-knuckled grip on his chokuto because his facial features are deadly calm.

"Control yourself." He leaks some of his own merciless ambiance, which makes the teenager stiffen. His muscles clench, rendering him speechlessly useless, and for a moment, the adolescent's expression flickers with wrath, but he drops it, exhaling roughly. Complacency dances like a smug promise that Sasuke can see is a farce.

They both turn it off when Kakashi lands in front of them. "I sensed some angst," He intones humorlessly, eyeing them with cautious consideration. His single eye then moves to the shortest of the bunch, and Sasuke thus checks on the boy. He isn't surprised when he bears witness to the tiny tremors and blanched questionable gaze that darts between them.

He withholds from sighing. He's already resigned for what's to come. Warnings have never been enough. Hell, if he had the balls to invade the Kage Summit back then, his auguries lands on deaf ears. With one last portent glance at the narrowed-eyed Uchiha, Sasuke nods in Kakashi's direction to proceed.

The man shoves his hands into his pockets and leads them inside.

They walk in, and Sasuke first witnesses his old Academy teacher sorting out papers before any of the old walls that have not been reconstructed after Pain's attack in the future. The scarred man pauses when he senses them, and he looks up, instantly souring when his eyes land on Kakashi. "Have you come here to finish off your missing mission reports, Kakashi-san?" He admonishes, glaring.

Kakashi is unaffected. "Ah, no," He moves to the side to allow Iruka a good look, casually revealing the most spread rumor currently stretching to meet the ends of this village. "I came here for a much more important thing."

Iruka's expression falls into shock. "Sasuke?" He breathes, wide eyes brimming with disbelief as they shift from one to the other.

All three of them stand awkwardly together. The smallest is looking at him boldly, the teenager is as impassive as usual, and Sasuke stands in the middle as the conspicuous leader. None of them return a greeting. To save them the trouble, the grave (and now that he realizes, early) Hatake involves himself again. "So. The Hokage?" Kakashi brings up, bored.

Iruka swallows, unable to keep his bewildered orbs away from them. "Right..." He mutters and searches around for a particular paper. "Go on in. I'll-I'll take care of it." He knocks some pencils over, and he's quick to fix them with a burn to his cheeks.

Kakashi walks by without another stolen glance.

Iruka's eyes then land on Sasuke's. They're somewhat soft if otherwise astounded as he slowly deposits the last writing utensil in a neat pile. "It's... good to see you so grown, Sasuke-kun." Iruka gives a small, hesitant, but genuine smile.

Sasuke inclines his head respectfully. The sight of his delight is different from the man who seems scared of him now. Of course, there's still that teacher kindness lingering about in the older man of his time, but he'll never forget the fear he saw in the following years after the 4th Shinobi World War. He doesn't blame him. He had tried to kill his adoptive son more than once.

He treads on, catching up to his former sensei. His thoughts forgo his and Naruto's shared academy teacher. His attention never strays from the murderous teenager he knows is waiting to unleash whatever built-on (rightful) wrath onto this place.

The stairs build, they move on, and then Kakashi opens the door for them when they arrive.

Sasuke enters first, landing his sights on the awaiting Hokage puffing smoke through a pipe more worn than he is. He keeps a careful hold on his chakra, disappearing without a trace to the ANBU he senses by the trees as he silently ventures off to the side to give ample room for the other occupants to come inside.

After situating himself beside him, the 12-year-old comes in next and poses much like Kakashi does. Kakashi enters at the same time but decides to stand on the opposite side.

Last, the 17-year-old missing-nin steps in, and he suppresses a tired huff when the atmosphere descends into something detrimental.

Immediately, the sitting Hokage narrows his eyes. "...It seems the stories were true, then," The elder murmurs neutrally, giving each of them a good look and boldly ignoring the elephant in the room that fluctuates dangerously.

Clashing, defiant, and with sinister intent, the teenager makes himself known.

And he reaches for his weapon.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"For me, revenge is everything. And failure... is nothing."

[. . .]

Chapter 5

Jikkan Rewritten

[. . .]

Rage.

Rage. Rage. Rage.

That is all 17-year-old Sasuke feels as he steps into the room, sickened at the very familiar chakra he never got the chance to snuff out before in his timeline.

Looking at it—the thing that had agreed, had let that fucking useless waste of meat slaughter his kin—makes him want to spill the guts it doesn't deserve to keep.

The same, rancid smoke of his youth pervades the air within this poorly sculpted office, and Sasuke doesn't hold back his sneer when he meets his dangerous eyes head onto the Hokage who stares back with no regard for his life.

Smug, even. He sits there, senile and useless, emanating an aura of hostility and confidence, as if he's sure he won't do harm because they are present before company. The thing about that, however, is that Sasuke couldn't give less of a fucking shit who the hell is in this room. Be it his older self or Kakashi or ANBU—he'll fight them all, and he'll win because he has one sure trump card in his regard.

(He cannot muster the lessened pride to admit that his one and only trump card is himself.

Is it so bad that he trusts the man he will become?)

17-year-old Sasuke isn't stupid.

He knows exactly what he will get into right now. And he doesn't care. His Older self could warn him all he wanted, but Sasuke won't be stopped. He will never cease his beliefs until his family is avenged completely.

(Never mind that he lost his purpose back home. Killing Itachi, killing Danzo, planning to rev up Konoha and burn it to the ground—all those plans except the last have been done. If his use is to destroy, why does he feel so tired? If his purpose in being born is to grieve, why does he continue living?)

Out of reflex his hand inches for his trusty weapon, gripping it tight from his shaking wrath. It's so hard not to spit out everything he wants to say, things that he's sure will come out in incensed, snarling sputters. His vision is sure as fit with aggression that none has seen, not until his time. His Sharingan manifests itself, pinpointing hatefully and with brutal intent to end the thing that calls itself the Hokage.

Everything. Everything has ultimately come with the help of this man. Danzo had been the fucking source and this...

This pathetic excuse of a Hokage could have denied it. He could have done something to elude the transgressions done to his people if only he could have accepted them.

But no.

No, he had done fucking nothing.

He grits his teeth and opens his mouth to execrate all of what his dead brother could not as his thumb slips the hilt of his chokuto out—

"Why have you called us here?"

—and then he clamps his lips shut tight enough to sink his teeth against the inside and draw blood as he snaps his head toward his oldest double, who stares down at the Hokage with the same animosity he does. Disrespect is clear in his gaze and the curling distrust of indifference, and Sasuke doesn't miss the sharpness of his tone.

In an alarming, uncertain sequence, an ill satisfaction drops to his stomach, forming an acid of jealousy and acceptance.

Either the adult version of him is trying to dissuade the tension, or he's just as annoyed as Sasuke is.

Whatever it may be, it's enough to settle him just an inch before he takes the chance to stab the old man through his throat.

The brief moment of silence makes Sasuke itch with the sensation of the elder's blood.

"An interesting altercation happened while I was unawares. It seems that Young Sasuke here has come across a forbidden scroll," Hiruzen states at a poor beginning, looking down at the scowling boy. Guilt is etched all over the child's face.

What altercation? Sasuke hisses to himself, grinding his molars. What will the Hokage do to his youngest self for using a scroll that is clearly the property of the Uchiha? Punish him?

He almost laughs out loud. He tastes iron on his tongue. They won't do fucking shit.

(They will never hurt him again.)

"It seems," His older self concedes disinterestedly. His facial muscles do not twitch. "I ask again: Why have you called us here?"

"The situation you are in provides that I do," The old man expresses with barely hidden snark, keeping a stoic glance directly at the billowing cloak. "We must find who has given Young Sasuke this scroll. Whoever it may be must have had access to the Uchiha filing, which concerns the likes of you all. If it is true as Kakashi says, then the source came from outside of Konoha ground. There is—"

"And you would know that the scroll is Uchiha, how?" Sasuke demands, seething.

That's enough proof.

It's enough.

How dare he?

Had this old fucking fool searched his Clan Compound? Without him knowing? Without his damn permission?

He knows the ANBU are ready to spring an attack from the outside. Even his former sensei is on edge, bookless, and staring at him.

Sasuke brings out his sword and the atmosphere plummets into something treacherous.

(One glance to his right.

That's all it takes.

But Sasuke doesn't know that.

The Rinnegan is mysterious, after all.)

"The copy we have given him," The Older Uchiha stately says. He has not moved since he came inside.

Sasuke dwindles somewhat when he's reminded that yes, he indeed reluctantly (forced) agreed to give consequential information to the Hokage. He makes sure to never keep his eyes away from the Hokage even as three ANBUs fall in front of the wooden desk.

Of course. He almost forgot they had given the Hatake Traitor a copy.

He exhales roughly, furious.

(There are so many things reverberating in his core.

Hatred.

Disgust.

Impatience.

Exhaustion.)

The decisions of his older self should've never—

"Regardless," The Uchiha Adult continues, unaffected, and Sasuke withholds from smirking when he notices how close the Hokage is to spring an attack. He hopes he does initiate an assail. Sasuke will show him just what power he has forsaken in this village. "That's still no reason to call us here. Are there any proceedings with Jiraiya of the Sannin? Or have you found a solution that may return us to our original time?" The man presents, vocally addressing the main concern.

The Elder scowls. It's clear it's hard for him to take his eyes off the teenager. Sasuke exults that he, out of all three, is at the center of attention. He will be heard whether or not this timeline goes up in flames. He'll save his youngest self the trouble of ever living on in this vicarious, diseased world. "No, we have not. But—"

"Then we'll be leaving," The Adult says, turning his way.

Sasuke is prepared to lash out because it's not fucking enough. This man should not be sitting in such a high position of power. He will remove it, just as he will kill Danzo and the rest of the vile elders. They do not deserve to live—

"You would disobey your orders to present yourself upon your Hokage?" Hiruzen abruptly execrates, and it's a bad fucking idea.

Unbearable, gut-wrenching wrath takes him over.

As immediate as that pretentious remark begins, Sasuke can't help but stiffen when another source of killing intent is known.

He can't move his tongue. He can't scream what he wants to say.

He can't do anything.

A cold so pure burns his insides.

The already shifty ambiance of the office becomes deadly.

"You're not my Hokage." The Adult Uchiha surmises quietly, almost softly. His back is turned to them, and Sasuke cranes his neck as best as he can to see the side of his expression, finding it the same when he does. He wills his bones not to rattle from fear and attempts to desperately counter this sensation with his fury. He can't do anything. A reaction like this is unprecedented and unacceptable, but he allows it as much as he can hide it. This is his future self.

The power he holds...

It's enough for Sasuke to wonder just how he goes at achieving it if he has already renounced his intention to live.

(He tries not to think that there had been more meaning for him to turn out that way.

Power, to him, is absolute. It means he can protect. It had meant that, once upon a time.

So who is he protecting now?)

He can't say the same for his younger self. The kid is shaking, sickened. His skin is pallor in appearance, and he knows the child is about to stumble on his knees. Sasuke makes no move to hold onto him as he watches him fall to one knee because he's farther away.

At this point, Kakashi is just as shockingly unmoving as the rest of the ANBU. The Hokage is standing now, clenching the side of his desk in what Sasuke hopes is fear.

The sweat forming on the crinkled features rushes an exhilarating loathing in his empty heart.

"I will say this once and only once. I have everything handled. I do not want Konoha interfering. Your work is not enough to give aid to the graces of matters between the Uchiha," The Uchiha angles his head, narrowing his eye. "Out of respect for a man better than I, I will not harm you for your impudence of now and the past."

Sasuke is sure a crazed smile forms on his face when he visibly sees the Hokage labor with fright. The crack of wood resounds in the room, belonging to the man far too old to govern a nation.

The hidden meaning is known to him, his older self, and the only other man involved in the Uchiha Massacre.

Beg, Sasuke laughs internally, staring the old man down. Fall and beg. Beg.

He can almost cry.

The Hokage doesn't beg. "Insubordination—"

A kunai embeds itself in front of the Hokage, resting on a paper with Danzo's signature.

The area silences and the ANBUs twitch when the sound hits. They had been too slow to see it.

"Make no mistake of this..."

Sasuke makes no move to reach for it. The killing intent is far too strong for Sasuke to act out on his wishful desire to burn the paper along with the Hokage's face.

"My mercy is not to be taken for granted. My Hokage isn't around to stop me from doing something drastic. I will not harm you in any way if you keep away from me and my past selves," The Adult Uchiha explains leniently. "If matters of the scroll are discussed, that's fine by me. But only call us when there's progress on the issue. Otherwise don't bother. It won't end well."

He pauses, reading the room as he walks back to his original position. Everyone has yet to move.

"...I will be coming for a talk in three days' time." The man acquiesces finally. What? "We will discuss everything there then."

Before Sasuke demands to know why in the hell they'll all be willingly meeting with the damn Hokage again, the killing intent vanishes. His body gives a tiny lurch and he breathes in fully, taking in the settling dreadful atmosphere just as a firm grip handles his shoulder. He turns to look at it, seeing purple.

What—?

And they're gone.

[. . .]

Sasuke keeps himself from toppling forward from the dizzy spectacle, grappling with his chakra.

The image of the office changes drastically into what looks like the grand settlement that is Konoha under a swirl of shades of red and purple.

It's the same.

Though he supposes it's because it is. He catches his ongoing illusion, focusing past what doesn't quite feel right. Regardless, his attempt to brush it away doesn't budge, so he doesn't say anything as the air of the Old Konoha brushes past his sweating face. His heart lurches instead because this must be real enough. Looking at a place he once lovingly called home must be unpretentious.

He's...

On the edge.

(There isn't enough time.

Nothing will be the same, anymore.

Dangling at the edge of a cliff or on the brink of insanity, or grief, is the same.

It's all the damn same.

He just wants his brother back.

I can't go back.)

A hand pulls him away from the edge, roughly turning him around so that he's facing his older self. The image of himself flickers, returning to the man he will become. He looks annoyed.

(He can't... quite wonder why he saw his current self.)

"Well?" The man demands, and Sasuke then realizes that the younger version of him clings onto the man's coat, as if dazed. "Was that altercation to your satisfaction?"

Sasuke's previous numbness becomes aggravation. He sneers at the mocking tone. "No," He snarls, and the rage comes back. It comes back. It's not fucking fair. There's a chance, now. "You did nothing—"

"I gave them a warning," The oldest Uchiha says, shaking his head. "Harming Konoha benefits no one. No one."

"We'd be giving it a better service by getting rid of that scum," Sasuke reiterates, eyes flashing into his Mangekyo.

He watches in confusion as his older self pinches his nose with closed eyes of frustration. Like he's a little kid who doesn't want to cooperate. "We do not need more people watching us. I gave a warning and for their own good, they'll heed it."

"And if they don't? You're a hypocrite. Threatening them will only have them on edge," Sasuke snaps.

"Oh, and like your method of killing him is better?" The adult shoots back, tired.

"Yes!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up just past his chin, clenching them. The youngest doesn't move, still. And he's acting out. Why? Why doesn't he understand? What the fuck happened to him? "Can't you fucking see how impractical he's become? Everything he's done has hurt my people. He doesn't deserve to sit where He should have!" He yells, snarling his poison in hopes that he is not facing a thwarted future.

(His eyes burn.

Everything hurts.

He wants his brother back.)

The adult stares down at him. Like he's not real. "Violence only brings more violence."

Sasuke scoffs. "You're me. You've done what I've—"

"I know," The oldest cuts off, sighing. "I know. And I understand what you feel."

The teenager draws back slightly, unexpectant of the softer tone the man takes.

"I didn't like the sight of the Third either. I know we need to have someone else for a better position," The Uchiha states, looking down and checking the kid. He immediately straightens and drops the subject altogether.

The child Uchiha looks up at both of them now, parting away from their proximity. "What happened back there?" The boy demands, weary. "Why—What was that?"

Sasuke wants to say nothing.

"My Killing Intent," The man answers for him.

The boy steps back. "...Really?" He looks curious. Enthralled.

"Really," The adult mumbles.

"Why? Why did you... The Hokage was just trying to understand the situation," The boy presses, frowning at them both.

Sasuke scoffs. Something is wrong.

Something isn't right, here.

The kid is much too...

That's not him. Sasuke narrows his eyes, searching his face. Both of them.

The adult exhales roughly. "He does not need to. Kakashi has already filled him in on the problem. His calling is strictly for him to put us under his command."

The boy looks confused.

"He does not trust us, Sasuke," The man says, and the teenager realizes it's the first time he's addressed any of them by name. His name.

The child looks skeptical. "...But... We didn't do anything wrong."

"...We are unknowns, and people change in the future," The adult attempts to explain. "He does not know if our loyalty lies with him. Not if Kakashi explained it how I picture it."

"And how do you picture it?" Sasuke provokes. This isn't right. He doesn't know why, but it's just not right.

The adult looks out, thinking.

"As real as we present ourselves."

Huh?

Sasuke scowls and the boy shifts uncomfortably when a bit of his killing intent leaks out. "So, what, we play the role of dogs?"

The adult doesn't reply.

Instead, reality distorts again, and Sasuke—

Sasuke blinks himself back into existence, facing his adult and kid self standing at opposite ends. The child has his arms crossed with a pale countenance and a scowl, like he's seen something sickly, while the adult portrays himself as neutral as he always is.

The bright sun becomes enclosed walls. The muted colors of a prison manifest themselves fully, replacing everything and finally feeling real. The clock on the wall isn't fuzzy, and his emotions have become a dull, flaring fire.

The memory of the apartment is in sight again.

"What?" Sasuke hisses, turning around quickly to make sure that he is, indeed, in his old apartment and not on top of the Hokage Mountain. Acrimony unlike ever before comes back when he discovers he's not in fact going insane, fueling his intention to harm, and then he realizes something when he meets the red eye of the man he will become. A wave of forced calmness soothes him like aloe balm on irritated skin. "...Genjutsu," He mutters aloud. He blinks, unsure of what to think. "When?" His voice is distant.

How?

"When you took out your weapon."

He remembers catching his eye.

"...How long?" He demands.

"Five hours." The man replies like it's nothing.

What?

"I didn't activate the Genjutsu until we left. Everything you saw is partially real after that, but I gave you more than enough time to settle down," The adult continues, staring him down. "You're too unstable."

Unstable?

"He is," Sasuke argues, blankly looking at the kid who scowls further. He swears he sees the kid look smug, but the flash of it is brief. There's something else in his past self's expression. Something raw and disgusting that he wants to say he hates, but can't because nothing is properly processing in his head.

"...We all are," The adult acquiesces. He sounds much too stern. Too hurt? "And I'm not going to risk anything."

Sasuke feels hollow. "So that's it?" He says emptily, blinking slowly. "That's all we do?" His mind still works to rationalize what's happening. His emotions are gone, but it hasn't deterred his ability to think. Something snaps, a thought or an idea, and he realizes just what he's seeing in the child's youthful face. The child clone of his looks at him with something akin to pity.

(No, he hates to think. Not pity.

Understanding.)

He can't break out of this Genjutsu.

(Reprieve is a drug.)

The adult stares him down, waiting.

Sasuke doesn't want to know for what. Whatever he's looking for, it'll come back as soon as the guidance of his ocular jutsu releases.

"No, that's not all," The man says, face grim. His words are uttered quietly. To Sasuke, it sounds like he's having trouble saying anything. Is he truly so hard to look at? Is that what his older self sees, after all? A mistake? A regret?

(Not even his future wants him.)

Sasuke doesn't have the energy to wait.

Instead of bothering to hear whatever the man has to say, he turns his back on him and walks to the room. He doesn't quite recognize how. He just moves with no sinking thought whatsoever, bereft of sentiments.

He sits himself down in a corner, feeling nothing, letting time pass by.

And in the end, he sleeps, because all he can do is dream of what used to be.

[. . .]

Naruto sits on a stool in Ichiraku's ramen stand, munching away with eager extent at the steaming pile of noodles and meat in his bowl.

Many thoughts occupy his mind—most of them to do with the happy chance at getting to savor his favorite meal again—but the major resident at the forefront of it all is the involvement of his teammate. Both of them, to be precise. He has since dropped off Sakura, recalling with relief that her parents had only raised an eyebrow at him for bringing her to them in such an unceremonious state.

His comment of how it happened went unheard as her mother curtly nodded before slamming the door in his face, which does make him all weepy, but it's not like it's anything out of the norm. Still, a 'thank you' would've been good.

Regardless, Naruto finds himself skipping the thoughts about how Sakura's parents treated him and more to the horrible thing he's come to know today. Just the reminder of it alone puts a sour taste in his mouth.

It's just... how can Sakura have married that bastard!?

The Uzumaki boy swallows the noodles, frowning. It's not fair. He's been nothing but nice to Sakura but that bastard doesn't even treat her like she exists! Not that Naruto could be worthy of a pretty girl like Sakura, anyway... He may want to be with her, but she deserves an awesome ninja guy to impress her and stuff! She's plenty strong now, and reliable and super smart and super, super pretty, so obviously she should be with the best!

His stomach jumps with discomfort when he recalls his performance in The Waves Mission. He totally blew it. He couldn't even save Haku and that dumbass Zabuza... And people died, and people suffered, and sure he totally saved the day but he needs to do more to help people because if it was as bad as it was back in Waves, then who knows how many others are doing worse—!

A determined look settles on his face.

He'll just have to help them, whether they like it or not!

He'll get better. That's for sure. It sucks, but he's not going to wallow in some stupid sad junk. He'll get better, and then maybe somewhere in the future, he'll be worthy of Sakura's attention...

He picks up his chopsticks and stuffs himself with another mouthful of delicacy, reconsidering.

But... Old Man Sasuke said he's already married in the future.

The thought makes him giddy and dubious. That's so cool, that he is married, because that means someone loves him enough to...

He chewing falters, hopeful.

He wonders who it could be.

Nobody ever gives him attention. Not the way he wants. And he doesn't really know anyone.

Except...

Naruto scratches the back of his neck in frustration as he downs the chewed contents of his food.

Sasuke gives him attention, he supposes... But the stupid, ugly one. That bastard never understands and he's always picking fights. He sure does show him, though! Because...

His eyes droop.

Sasuke almost died. He did die, in his arms.

And Naruto... Naruto didn't know what to do, then.

So even though Sasuke can be a big fat loser, Naruto cares about him. A lot. And he considers him a friend.

The kind eye of Old Man Sasuke comes to mind, and Naruto moves the food around in his bowl, pondering deeply. That Sasuke, the super tall one, didn't look at him the way his Sasuke does. It's with... something weird, like...

Like something good.

And Naruto is flummoxed about that. What makes the bastard look at him like that? Like a fond memory?

Naruto shoves the cooked meat into his mouth, chewing in irritation. Leave it to the stupid bastard to leave him baffled. He can't even talk to anyone else about it either! Well. Maybe Sakura, but she's not here. And she kind of doesn't like talking to him. Kakashi-sensei is gone too. He looked pretty weird earlier, and Naruto thinks it's dumb because Sasuke is Sasuke so why should he keep caution around him?

It's stupid.

Abruptly, all he can think about is Sasuke's future selves, and he has half a mind to blather it out to the whole world if Kakashi-sensei hadn't said earlier not to. He almost did just a few minutes ago to the nice Ramen Guy Teuchi but caught himself just in time.

Disappointment and aggravation leak from his person, but he's actually morbidly fascinated. He never thought Sasuke would become so cool. He doesn't care what Kakashi-sensei says. Sasuke is Sasuke and... How can his friend turn evil when he almost died for him?

His fist clenches at his side.

He wishes he could ask someone about them. But nobody would know, would they? Why Uncle Sasuke is a little nice but creepy, and why the even weirder one looks so sad when he thinks he's not looking?

Naruto doesn't know. Plus, it's hard to compartmentalize just what he's known and seen today. It still leaves his stuffy cranium reeling at the prospect of having Sasuke of the future nod his head after Naruto landed a hit on Kakashi-sensei earlier.

He feels someone sit next to him, but Naruto doesn't turn to look, thinking he knows who it is.

In his mind-boggling dilemma, he doesn't notice that the man taking a seat beside him isn't Iruka-sensei. After all, nobody would want to eat with him while he's there. It takes a few minutes for Naruto to reluctantly acknowledge his old teacher (whom he admits he misses because the man is the sole reason why Naruto even gets food sometimes).

But his greeting stops itself from manifesting when he turns and finds a stranger with a long black cloak requesting quietly for a miso-soup, uncaring that he's seated next to him.

He thought it might have been the old Sasuke, but it isn't.

Immediately, Naruto is wary.

He doesn't say anything though, and he continues eating. He'll eat quicker this time because he's sure that once the rumors catch up here, to this man, he will hurt him.

Except, the man is already eyeing him.

And Naruto swallows thickly. "What?" He demands, scowling a bit. "What're you lookin' at?"

The man seems so… so serious. But also very sad, for some reason. "Sorry," He murmurs, mustering a weak smile. "I thought you were someone I knew."

He certainly has Iruka-sensei's brown hair. But he doesn't look like him at all. More like... some phony version of him.

Naruto shifts away from him. Someone he knew? He probably knows about him and doesn't recognize him because he's become so awesome since he became Genin.

(Unlikely, though.)

He narrows his eyes because he won't trust a random stranger. "Whatever," He mutters, and it's rude and he's awkward but he doesn't want to be hurt. The sad part is that if the man decides to hurt him, Naruto can't do anything but run. He doesn't think he could condemn civilians. Not after knowing just what he keeps inside him... But... this guy looks like a Shinobi, so if push comes to shove he'll have to defend himself.

He doesn't like the potential of being hurt enough to die.

Naruto eyes him carefully. His hair is short but adorned in Iruka-sensei's style and his eyes are… too much of a sky blue. It's creepy.

There's also a scar on his left eye. It reminds him of Kakashi sensei but the man next to him has his scarred eye open. It's just... blinded.

It makes his stomach queasy. Naruto feels silly. He never imagined the horrors of becoming a Ninja. He never imagined it could potentially take his life—and he knows he would have needed to kill. He knows. But it's so different seeing it in person.

He still remembers Haku. It pains him. They spent so little time together.

He was just a kid... like me, he thinks somberly.

"You know. I heard about you."

Naruto tenses. "Yeah?" He frowns, "What about it, datteba'yo?" He looks down, and his food suddenly looks unappetizing.

"They're wrong."

Naruto snaps his head up at him, wide-eyed. What?

The man looks imploring, infuriated. But not at him. "They don't know what they're saying. They're just trying to justify their issues," The man scoffs as he angrily stuffs some noodles into his mouth once the bowl is set in front of him. "Only lame-o's do that stuff." He seems to have wanted to say more but he clamps his mouth shut with a grimace. Almost like a second thought, the man turns to the Ramen Guy with a brittle smile, expressing gratitude.

Naruto doesn't know what to say. Nobody has ever... said that before. Just Iruka-sensei.

Nervously, he fiddles with his shirt. Could he be Iruka-sensei's brother? He hadn't known his former teacher had a relative... But he looks nothing like him, either!

Thinking this is some prank, Naruto scowls at him. "Why do you care, huh?" He asks, suspicious. After Mizuki-sensei tricked him, he's not going to let anything slide.

He seems to have caught the man off-guard and he almost jumps in his seat to point at him and childishly declare he found him out, but he doesn't.

He doesn't because the man looks so tired.

So, so sad.

(He thinks he might have seen himself in him.

For a moment.)

"Because a 12-year-old kid shouldn't have to deal with the scorn of people who have no true knowledge of that night. They shouldn't have to take their anger out on him when he's done nothing to deserve it."

Naruto feels the man pat his shoulder, almost awkwardly, but by this point, Naruto has mellowed out.

He deflates a little, so confused.

And the man notices, but he offers a sad grin. "Trust me, man. You deserve better." It sounds like the man wanted to add another word, but he shuts his mouth quickly.

And Naruto puffs his cheeks. "Well, duh! One day I'm gonna be Hokage and people will have to respect me! I'm gonna earn it, believe it!" He says, not knowing that he should have never had the burden of being hated.

His declaration, it seems, causes the man to shake his head with a genuine smile. "Not surprised," He mutters, and then grows sad, "Just be careful. Hokage duty is… hard. It takes a lot of time, too. So. Don't forget about the people you care about, okay? The Village is important but so are they. And…" He reaches over to pat his chest, "So are you, man."

That's so random.

"Okay, datteba'yo!" Naruto takes it because that means that for once, someone else believed in him too.

He can't doubt more. He'll take what he can get, and who knows, maybe he knows Iruka-sensei! He plans to ask right away if he does because it's weird for some stranger to believe in what he wants when they don't know him, but he stops when he notices some blood on the corner of the man's lips. Naruto grows cold. "Hey. Wait, what's that?"

The man blinks and pokes at himself until he comes in contact with it. He shrugs at it. "It's nothing, trust me," He says, then stands.

Naruto prepares for the man to laugh at his face and declare him a pathetic loser for believing him, but he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he stretches and pushes the bowl of full ramen toward him, grinning. "Thanks for the talk, man. You'll be a good Hokage, no matter what," He halts for a second, looking down at him pensively. Just for added measure, he includes, "Just don't be a dumb old man, got it?" He smirks.

Naruto scowls instantly. He's not old! "Hey! I'm not old!" He retaliates, ready to ask him where exactly he's going when he left a perfectly good ramen bowl free for the taking, but...

But the man is already gone. With one blink, all that's left is a swirl of leaves landing where he just stood.

Naruto sits himself down properly again, grumbling to himself. How can that guy be so nice and then insult him!? There must be a Sasuke epidemic or something...

Naruto shudders.

He then looks down at his bowl, finishes the bits and pieces left, and proceeds to glance sideways to the other bowl. Well... That guy doesn't look like he's coming back and Naruto doesn't like overlooking food as good as this... It'd be a shame if it all went to waste.

Taking the bowl, he begins to eat as Teuchi mutters about the bill the other man forgot to pay. Even though it's not his style of portioned ramen, Naruto tells Teuchi he'll pay for him. Teuchi smiles but assures him it's fine, and Naruto beams at him.

Who needs other people anyway? He's got heaven right here!

Still, after he finishes and pays for the two bowls anyway, Naruto walks home by himself in deep thought.

He thinks about Sakura.

He thinks about Sasuke.

He thinks about the very quiet Sasuke who watched him from the tree.

He thinks about the Old Sasuke, and his unbothered expression when Naruto addressed him so closely, and...

And he thinks about the weird words of the stranger that make him feel all light inside.

He has no idea what to make of it. It feels good, though. And Naruto knows not to take things that feel good for granted.

So he opens his door and gets ready for bed. The moon is up and about, and he has training tomorrow so he should get some sleep in before he regrets waking up in the morning.

When he takes off his orange tracksuit, instead of his prank or ninja essentials coming out, something rolls off.

Making a noise of confoundment, Naruto squints in the dark and reaches for the object.

His eyes zero in on a scroll.

[. . .]

In the middle of the night, Sakura sits up in her bed with a cold sweat.

Her heart thuds dangerously, enough to break the breath from her lungs until she's gulping for air, erratic. Tears stream down her eyes, filtering through every memory she begs any Kami to get rid of. Her aching limbs tremble, and the cuts she got in her scuffle with the girl in black hair are pulsating like a searing fire across her flushed flesh—

She falters, exhaling shakily.

She blinks herself back. In a room. Her room.

That was a dream.

Her frantic eyes scan down her arms, clenching them. What she expects to find are haunting, bone-seeing lacerations, but her arms are fine. Just a few bruises that she already had from her recent mission. Her fingers are becoming rougher too, which is extremely disgusting because Sasuke-kun wouldn't want a girl with weird, paddy digits but at least they're there, with her fingernails intact.

She almost chokes out a sob. It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

So then, why does she remember it feeling so real?

Sakura covers her face, rubbing at her eyes with confusion. How did she get in bed, anyway? The last thing she remembers is cooking underneath the hot sun back in the training grounds.

Her bottom lip quivers as she tries to forget about the nightmare. Maybe seeing so much death in her first mission outside the village is having her see things that should never, not ever come true. Settling her blame on unfortunate past events, Sakura sets herself to thinking.

Had someone taken her home? But that couldn't be right. She'd have woken up and felt it, right? But she never falls asleep! It couldn't have been—

Before her thoughts can catch up to Sasuke, she shuffles in bed and feels a weight on her blankets.

She almost thinks it's her clothes she forgot to put away (which is strange because she is very organized), but she stops short when she realizes it's a tube. No... not a tube...

She inches her hands toward it, grabbing hold of the golden edge.

Her teary eyes widen.

A scroll.

The curtains of her room flutter slightly, but she doesn't notice the shadow escape nor does she bother to question why her window had been open when she's inside a just as dangerous village with men her mother warned her about.

The moon's glint shining upon the beauty of the unblemished gold is distracting enough for little Sakura.

Almost in a trance, recalling the red eyes of her dreams that belonged to someone she must have held dear, Sakura attempts to open the scroll.

It doesn't budge. On neither side, especially when she tries her mightiest to twist her fingers and open it up.

She thinks, analyzing the entirety of it for any clues, and then pauses on the other golden end, where a single symbol lights.

An Uchiha Symbol.

Her breath seizes.

Could... Could Sasuke have taken her home and left this gift here!?

Her entire face flushes.

Her heart soars even when she knows it shouldn't.

The kind eye of the older Sasuke sets a committed acerbity on her features.

Brooding outside the box, she decides to try something with her chakra. She sinks the conduit rivulet into it, wondering if setting her blue essence into it is what she should do, and then brightens when the Uchiha symbol begins to glow an ominous red.

She cares not for it, because she's finally received a love letter from the boy of her dreams—!

Something cracks. She opens her mouth in a silent scream as the blue stream becomes a vivid red.

Blood.

Her heart thunders and she can't catch her breath.

And she falls off her bed, stumbling after the vitality of her chakra that is seamlessly being taken away from her and into the scroll.

She can't move.

She can't scream.

Her heart slows.

Did I just die?

She doesn't know.

Her eyes close.

She doesn't wake.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"One has to pass down this road to leave the village."

[. . .]

Chapter 6

Uproot the Cherry Blossoms

[. . .]

17-year-old Haruno Sakura wakes with a terrifyingly hollow gasp.

Her forehead pulsates with pain unlike she has ever felt before as she sits up with feverish haste, her sockets hung dry with the lasting remnants of her tears. Her chest aches with a bountiful melancholy, and her limbs quiver as she reaches for the burning whelved around her neck, feeling like she has just had a severe case of heartburn.

Her vision swims as she tries to grapple with what exactly has caused her to pass out so quickly, taking in her surroundings in an astounding three seconds before she's standing upright, alarmed, and swallowing the sandy discomfort of her mouth. Her index and thumb press against her bleeding throat, unsure of why the sensations of glass dragging down her flesh aren't causing a flow of blood.

She doesn't feel her patients anywhere.

Like a thirsted afterthought, her chakra slams into her at an alarming speed, causing her to grunt and hit herself against a small, eerily familiar, nightstand. Objects rattle and fall as she wheezes, clutching her stomach and withdrawing the acid reflux, calming her distorted organs that retwisted back into work.

Not all of her chakra comes back. A good chunk of it is missing, but she should be fine because she has more than enough to do her medical duties—

Except there's nobody here, and when she stretches out her chakra because a consuming panic kickstarts her emotionally damaged organ, she swears she feels the abundant warmth of both her parents who should be in Konoha and...

Her lungs almost collapse with stupefaction when she catches sight of her 12-year-old self bleeding out on the floor.

What?

As soon as she sees the body of a child with her familiar shade of rose hair above a puddle of iron, Sakura instantly goes into Doctor Mode.

She kneels and hovers her hand over the fluttering chest of the girl, running a diagnostic while her eyes digest if there is any exterior deterioration. From what she can see there's no lasting damage physically, but her chakra indicates that this girl is quite nearly out of it. Alarmed but relieved the child isn't dead, she quickly connects her energy to the child and performs a chakra transfusion.

It's the on-the-field version of the one Tsunade had taught her, and seeing as this is a bedroom and Sakura can't afford to run to the nearest hospital in case the girl dies on the way there, this is the only option.

She puts herself to work and slowly transmits a minimal amount of her chakra while dissecting the density and flow of the girl that looks disturbingly like how she did when she was a kid.

As much as she wants to put the similarities aside, Sakura feels overwhelmed. She feels like she's hallucinating.

There is no way this little girl can be her.

Yet still, when Sakura makes true that their chakra is compatible enough (because it sure as hell feels exactly like hers, just a bit less refined), she starts pumping a generous amount into the connected stream they share and commences second-guessing whether or not she has a damn sibling. As far as she knows her parents are happily married, not... She would've known if she had a sibling. Why wouldn't her parents tell her about her? This girl looks about twelve. Thirteen, maybe, perhaps eleven. The bone structure indicates as such. Sakura would have been... what? Five, when she would've been born?

She would've fucking known.

Again, no sibling of hers would have her precise chakra conduit.

Nor her exact fucking face, but that's neither here nor there.

When the connecting line begins to rework the girl's chakra, a sign that her energy is accepted, she hardly feels a difference. Her chakra correlates easily with the girl, and Sakura holds her breath, trying to keep her concentration amidst a growing anxiety.

She gives more chakra. Minutes pass by.

She switches to the other arm. Her pace continues.

It continues until she's touched every limb and the neck, giving away plenty but not so much that it causes problems. It's just enough, she thinks, because, by the time she pulls away and swallows down her bewilderment at the impossible concept of seeing a 12-year-old version of herself, the girl is breathing steadily. Stable enough, Sakura judges, because she lost some blood and she needs to take a long rest to recover the remainder of it after coating her bones in chakra to have them work on remaking the blood.

Sakura lowers, picks the girl up, sets her on the bed, and pulls away with fervorous confusion.

The moonlight hits the girl just right to reveal the zemblanity, and Sakura collapses onto the floor on her knees.

She starts shaking and the scent of iron nearly sends her over the edge.

Unable to have the distraction of playing doctor to save her, her mind delves deep into a horrifying prostration while she brings her arms to the sides of her head in wild confoundment. Her wide, jade eyes stare imploringly at the unresponsive girl that is her, because there is no denying it. No, there really, really isn't. Not when Sakura's diagnostic confirmed her most alarming improbabilities, and when a tug in her heart kept signaling that she mustn't be stupid—no, she must be rational.

Rational.

Just rational.

Not disoriented that she exists and that the Genjutsu still isn't dispelling no matter how much chakra she uses. Not scared that she was taken and put here at random, in her old bedroom, likely leaving many people to die.

Not crazy, not insane, because she knows herself and she knows that's her because who else if not her would have the same, thrumming beat of Earth-bound intensity Naruto had so described just a few weeks ago?

"You're unique, Sakura-chan!"

Sage.

Sage, what she wouldn't take to have something make sense right now.

She pulls at her hair and lets out a few tears of frustration after a long time simply sitting on a rug. She moves her head, wary and tired and confused, figuring that she needs to do something instead of wallowing in her unrepentant, erratic problem, only to feel her breath drown in horror when a red eye looks at her from a tree. She just so happens to turn her head, wailing at the moon her astounded troubles, just to see that.

She forgot that there might've been an enemy.

She knows that eye.

Her heart stutters.

Slows.

Stops.

Stopped, altogether.

Because she is moving, she grabs little Sakura and moves to leave just as she collapses. Her body slumps forward, leaving the little Sakura on the bed, and the teenage girl slides down, falling to the side. The side. Not a man.

It couldn't have been.

She can't see.

It was too late, she finds. She looked at the eye straight-on. She blew it.

(Sasuke.

Please.

Please, she doesn't want to beg him anymore.)

She fights it.

She tries to.

And she succeeds, but something else kills her, she thinks.

Because part of her chakra cuts, and she no longer has the strength to uproot the most powerful, kaleidoscope of a Genjutsu she's ever faced.

17-year-old Haruno Sakura sleeps.

[. . .]

12-year-old Uchiha Sasuke watches with sporadic sentiments as an older girl, one he knows far too well in the comfort of his head and heart, who looks like Sakura falls into the arm of his oldest self.

He thinks he might pass out.

The first reason: his chakra transfusion had been sorely interrupted. As had been his sleep.

The second reason: that's Sakura.

Beforehand, just before he and his future selves migrated here, he had seen his oldest self draw inward with a disturbed, dawning look as soon as he touched his arm. His eye had widened slightly and his countenance whitened as he snapped his head to the direction of his room, and for a second, little 12-year-old Sasuke thought his teenage self had broken free from... whatever the adult put him under.

"We need to go," The man said sternly, distressed, and Sasuke stood too because he was confused and slightly scared because he had never seen that look before. Only on himself, just years ago.

(No, he tried not to picture Itachi.

The eye.

That damned eye is a curse.)

The teenager was up with them soon after. Sasuke had subtly cringed at the time. The sight of his teenage self frothing at the mouth and looking borderline bloodthirsty earlier was a harsh reality check, one that he associated with the wrath he felt under his brother's Tsukuyomi the final 100,000 times. As much as he felt the rage scratch and burn underneath his skin, the fear of both Killing Intents severed into a chokehold so absolute that he nearly passed out thinking Itachi was there to kill him.

He had vowed something to himself when they left the platform of the Hokage's office in the begrudging comforts of his oldest self; to never become... whatever that had been.

(To never feel that fear again.)

He feared, too consuming and too incensed, to become someone so unhinged. He dreamed of power. That would always remain absolute, but...

Sasuke didn't want to become like his brother. He didn't... He knew what he had to do. Killing his brother was final. But others?

He didn't want to resort to that point, to even be willing to kill the Hokage—but the Hokage looked equally as guilty. It was a weird image that left a sinking feeling in his gut.

Sasuke didn't want the feeling to fester so he turned to the 32-year-old man reluctantly then.

He had asked the older Uchiha why the boy he'd become in five years had acted that way, and why he, as an adult, treated the Hokage that way, but he was met with no answer. A simple, "I'll tell you at a later time" came about. It infuriated him.

Sasuke wasn't stupid. Something was going on concerning Itachi and the Hokage. He had been thinking it over and over the entire time they both waited for the adolescent to return to reality. Endless hours he watched with a heavy heart the teenager stare off into nothing, looking as haggard as a corpse. What was he going through? What did he see?

Facial muscles twitched and at times twisted into a despair he could feel roaring inside his burning chest.

("Is that a normal Genjutsu?" 12-year-old Sasuke asked with tentative anger, walking away from the Uchiha staring at the wall in silent murmuring. He wasn't sure if the man had copied something Itachi had done. If he had, he'd force him to get the teenager out of it.

The adult lowering a plate of cut fruit on the table in front of his approaching figure stared as he always did; with no emotion to back up what he kept hidden. "No," He said. "It's a category five on the six scale. One I made with elaborate proportions of speech."

Sasuke scowled in confusion at the plate on the small table meant for one. "What does that even mean?" He murmured, picking up a sliced strawberry.

"It's a complex Genjutsu." How annoyingly vague. Another plate was set off to the side, wrapped in plastic.

Sasuke looked up. The man's back was to the boy searching for any malice in his stance. "...Is... Will he be okay?" He grumped, furrowing his brows and throwing a glance back.

The teenager remained in the same position.

"He will be," The adult said. It sounded like a promise.

Sasuke returned his regard to the man facing him once more. In his hand was a small apple. Was that all he was going to eat?

Annoyed by the pitiful chivalry, Sasuke pushed the plate forward. "Eat some too."

The adult bit into the apple. "No," He said with several hefty chews.

Sasuke's expression twisted into confoundment at the rejection. He withheld from commenting on etiquette and how he shouldn't be talking with his mouth full. He didn't practice that anymore. And it was weird that as a kid, he was telling the 32-year-old that.

The adult gestured to the bowl and swallowed. "It's yours."

Sasuke glared. "You didn't eat."

"No, I didn't," The man vexingly agreed.

"So eat."

"...After I eat this apple," He said.

"Fine," Sasuke sniffed, pulling the plate back. "But when it's empty and there's nothing left, don't come crying."

There wasn't a response as he proceeded to eat the fruit.

True to his word, fifteen minutes later, the bowl was empty. Slightly guilty and irritated that he felt that way, little Sasuke gave the creepy adult the stink eye. "Why is he talking to himself about fairness?" He demanded, challenging the quiet man in an effort to forget about the melancholic lodge building inside his throat.

The man took a second to reply. "I'll tell you some other time," He said.

Sasuke released a frustrated huff. "You always say that," He hissed.

He tried.

He tried so hard not to hear Itachi in those words.

Tried so hard not to compare the gentle company to the brother who ruined it all.

The adult exhaled in slight exhaustion. "I know."

"Why?" He looked down at the table, tired. He wanted to sleep.

"...There are some things you need to prepare yourself for," The Uchiha began, surprising him with a new dialect. When he raised his gaze, the Adult Uchiha was rubbing the eye hidden underneath his hair. "The truth you will learn... It will shake the very foundations you've built yourself up on since the Massacre."

Sasuke flinched.

A sigh. "I don't tell you that to be cruel. I tell you because as much as you deserve to know, this... truth will not be something you'll be able to handle. Not yet, anyway."

Sasuke clenched his fists. "Just tell me! He knows," He sneered at the teenager and his cruelty, of the memory of being told 'No' the first time. "Why can't I?"

The hard gaze that was pinned on him was almost enough to deter his fruitless endeavors.

"He is the exact reason why I don't tell you," The man confirmed.

And Sasuke blanched.)

It was an eye-opener. The reason he wasn't being told everything was because if he was, he'd become the wrathful teenager. It was further confirmed when he kept hearing his teenage self mutter about justice, about what the Hokage had allowed a monster to do.

Itachi was that monster. The Hokage could have done something.

Stop him?

Would the Hokage have been able to?

Little Uchiha Sasuke decided that he would need to assess such troubles at a later time. As of that moment, the contorting expression of disbelief on his teenage double spoke more of just what the situation at hand was.

The teenager looked irritated.

Confused.

Maybe not so much, because the expression was pinched and Sasuke could tell he was sweating, but why?

What happened? And why the sudden change from the catatonic state he was prior?

"You felt that," The teenager said.

Sasuke almost shouted, Felt what!? But he didn't. He feared the volume of his voice would reflect the curse of a future he should have never bothered to uncover. (If he was as livid as the teenage Uchiha had been, he would see an unwanted reflection condemning him.)

The adult said nothing to them. He opened that damned portal Sasuke will secretly admit was amazing, and Sasuke stepped in after they both did because there was no way he was being left behind after that, withholding a yelp when he almost fell to the ground.

And now he's here.

He scrambles to climb through the window after the teenager goes in, unable to keep his eyes away from the girl hanging loosely off of the grim adult's arm. He steadies himself, reigning in his shock as he questionably darts his head to his teammate sleeping peacefully on her bed, blanching when he sees how pale she looks. He moves forward to check for her pulse, but he falters when something begins to rattle.

He tenses. The teenager raises his weapon, and from the angle he stands, Sasuke can see the hints of red and something fierce in the adolescent's gaze. The adult sets the... the...

She looks... so different...

...Sakura, older, Sakura, on the bed with his Sakura. The twelve-year-old.

He's forced to look away when a golden light glints from his peripherals. Like his older selves, his attention is drawn to the scroll in absolution.

"Another scroll," The adult warns—

Sasuke flinches back behind the cloaked man as a light brighter than the sun engulfs the room.

A heavy, dense, yet no less gentle energy pervades the atmosphere not long after, killing the glow immediately and bringing reprieve to his eyes that, without his permission, opened the Sharingan.

When he focuses, he lets out a gasp.

There, on the ground, is a woman. A woman, might he add, that has short pink hair, a purple mark going unseen in the darkness of this room on her forehead. She wears a red shirt, long from the back and slightly open on the front, displaying a toned stomach that makes him avert his eyes to the rest of her. She has white pants, and heels, and bracelets, and she looks like—

"Sakura."

The 12-year-old and 17-year-old watch with unresponsive realization as the adult quickly darts and cradles the woman on the floor.

Sakura.

Sakura, Sakura, Sakura.

That's Sakura.

Sasuke moves closer, taking more of the woman—Sakura—in. The teenager lingers behind.

(He can't move, it seems.)

He freezes when he sees her shuffle. Suddenly Sasuke isn't so inclined to peek over the adult's shoulder, and he steps back warily, swallowing thickly when he hears a voice that sounds a little deeper than he's used to.

"...Sasuke-kun...?" The woman whispers, her fluttering eyes opening fully.

Sasuke draws in a breath. His Sharingan finally turns off.

(He starts to feel dizzy.)

Her eyes are the exact shade of sea-foam green. Of Jade.

There's no mistaking it.

(As much, as much, and as so much that he wants to deny. This can't be Sakura, he tells himself. It can't be. The scroll doesn't say anything about summoning someone else back.

And why is the scroll there?

Why is it not home?)

The child darts his head to look at the teenager, just to check if he is also having the same reaction he is.

He isn't.

He's staring, dead and silent, right at the woman in the arm of the man he will become.

Unnervingly, Sasuke thinks, because there is nothing to tell. The boy five years his senior is like a statue.

"You're back..."

The 12-year-old snaps his head back to the shocking display. He observes, painfully and with shame that he is watching such a tender display that he thought he would never be capable of. The man holds the Adult Sakura with utmost care, leaning forward like a man pained.

I am married, Sasuke immediately knows. Because he would never do this to someone. He didn't think he would, ever.

Sasuke jumps and notices the teenager stiffen when the woman sits up and engulfs the adult in a tight hug. The embrace looks weak but then coils further, bringing more color to the face of a woman he will, unsurprisingly, almost embarrassingly, admit looks like an angel.

She has her eyes closed, and in the glint of moonlight, he thinks he sees tears. She's squeezing the adult so tight that Sasuke catches a wheeze.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" She whispers, clinging closer as the adult wraps an arm around her. "I thought—after Sarada said—"

Sarada?

Who's Sarada?

"I know," The Adult Sasuke murmurs against her neck, and the child looks down, thinking the sight of the unabashed affection is too much. If he looks hard enough he thinks he might picture his parents, though he has never seen them be so affectionate.

It leaves him feeling... lost.

Beside him, he hears the teenager shift, likely just as uncomfortable with the display as he is.

"I was so worried!" She erupts again, pulling away to look at him completely, sniffling and wrinkling her nose at something the two other Sasuke's can't see. "You just... You disappeared and I didn't know where you were and—are you hurt? Anywhere? Do you need something? Food? Water?" She stands so quick that Sasuke gets whiplash, struggling to breathe when the woman easily props his adult self up on his feet. Her hands touch everywhere and the Uchiha just... lets her do it.

Like he's been through this before. Like he's comfortable.

The adult places a hand on her arm. "Sakura."

The woman continues without delay though she does lace her fingers with the hand that touches her. Sasuke gapes. "Are you hungry? I'll find a place and a food source quickly, even if this is a desert wasteland. Where did you disappear off to, anyway? Was it a summons? You must be so exhausted dear—"

Dear?!

Sasuke's going to pass out.

"Wait."

Sasuke stills.

Slowly, she angles her head to stare directly at him.

The adult knows, already. "I'm okay," The man says, and he sounds unreal. Melancholic. Relieved. Adoring. "I'm fine, Sakura, but..."

Sasuke locks eyes with the woman. With Sakura.

To eyes that widen like someone who thought they would never get the chance to relive a distant, healthier time again.

"We're not home."

The silence drops on them like a sack of bricks.

There's pressure reminiscent of killing intent, but it's non-threatening. It's just... The sensation is overbearing, is all. He thinks he might be imagining it, but the rough exhale that comes from next to him lets him know that he must not be the only one feeling it.

She looks at him, down at him, taller than how he ever pictured her when he lets the pestering thought of Sakura cycle his mind in the night. He sees now that the mark on the center of her forehead is a purple diamond. Her arms are toned—powerful, he knows. Her stance is skeptical and ludicrous.

But her eyes...

They look so gentle. So soft.

So...

"...We're in the past," Sakura makes the guess, moving her intense gaze to the adolescent that narrows his eyes when she does. Her face crinkles, like she's not quite sure what to express. Eventually, as his oldest self makes a noise of affirmation to her statement, little Sasuke watches her lips form a sad sort of smile.

She looks back at the man. "This is... unexpected," She states, then straightens, facing the man completely. Sasuke questions why she sounds so calm. "This can't be a Genjutsu. What happened?"

Sasuke is keen on watching the adult Uchiha sigh in exasperation. "A twelve-year-old version of myself used a Time Scroll and summoned me back here."

Sakura blinks. "Pardon? A twelve-year-old version?"

The 32-year-old nods his head over in his direction. "He's not from our timeline. I have no memory of ever buying a scroll after the Waves Mission."

Sakura returns to regard the both of them.

"Not from a woman with red glasses and dark hair." The adult adds in.

The woman tenses and swerves her head back.

Sasuke itches to know what causes her such surprise.

"Sarada is at home," Sakura says carefully.

The unknown name returns. Who is Sarada?

Could it be the woman in his memories? The one who sold him the scroll?

The adult's expression pinches. "It could be... another. One not related to our time."

There's more? Sasuke feels a headache coming on, though that might just be the chakra exhaustion catching up to him. It's also starting to become increasingly harder to breathe. The room is stuffy with undescribed sensations polluting the air. There's just too many people.

"Who is Sarada?" The teenager asks for him, and Sasuke is glad.

Except he might never get the chance to hear the answer because everything catches up to the child who can only hold such little chakra for an extensive period of time.

Before Sakura opens her mouth, Sasuke's vision and hearing go at odds, causing his brain to rumble and eventually to lose feeling in his body.

He slackens and falls.

He expects to hit his head on the floor, though he's not sure what he hits because he can't feel shit. His body shuts down, and the only thought that conjures in his head is that he's matching with Sakura.

[. . .]

17-year-old upcoming Medic Haruno Sakura wakes with a lurch.

"Easy," A woman's voice filters through her ears, weirdly distinct and familiar. Something that feels like a limb holds her chest. She groans, face down and trembling. She feels like a rock has embedded into the center of her skull. When she hesitantly reaches to probe at the nuisance to soothe the ache, she freezes when someone beats her to it. "It's a bit tender," The voice states.

Sakura snaps her head up, eyes wide and a question on her tongue as to why she's not at home eating mochi with Naruto and Sasuke.

She wheezes when she sees a reflection that isn't quite... right.

I was in a Genjutsu.

"Wh-What...?" She whispers.

The woman pulls away with a sigh. Going unanswered, the woman turns with her hands on her hips. "Which one of you put her in a Genjutsu?" She demands; Sakura notices it's firm rather than angry.

She also notices that the woman has pink hair. Short, pink hair and red clothes with white pants.

Could she...?

Her heart stutters.

That's—

It takes her a second to process.

She coughs when she gasps and inhales saliva.

No man answers the woman that is her and is her because her hands are shimmering green and she's asking her if she's hurting anywhere like she would to any other patient—

"Y-You're me," She croaks, tears springing from her eyes as she hacks out the wrongly directed spit.

Her adult self pauses, blinking. "Yes," She answers, pressing on her throat enough to have her stop coughing. "I'm sorry. I know this must be a lot. I know it is for me," She continues, sympathetic.

Sakura breathes, withholding further small jumps inside her throat.

Then that means—

Sakura turns next to her to the body she saved.

That part wasn't a dream.

An emptiness scores in her heart when she finds that the happy moment with her team has been an illusion.

"It was me," A man finally says.

Sakura whips a glance around so fast that it dizzies her. Ignoring a 'careful' from something that shouldn't be real, her eyes hone in on two figures.

A tall man with a cloak as long as his body stands in the farthest corner possible. "It wasn't supposed to keep her for long." He's next to a bundle of something. She can't tell. Much like a shadow, the man hides with the silhouette on the ground.

His voice is scarily familiar.

Oh, Sage. He sounds like...

The chakra doesn't lie. Her senses finally spread and when she catches on, she almost vomits.

Sakura stiffly looks next to him.

Like a ghost, her heart instantly springs with violence and longing.

Her soul feels sucked out.

Gone.

Terribly, horribly, cold.

Like fear.

Inner-Sakura snarls with broken revenge.

"Oh," The woman breathes, sounding like a grimace. "This might not be..."

"Ideal," The man finishes for her.

Sakura raises a shaky finger to the love of her life, to the one boy who broke her heart so absolutely that it'll never be whole again. He stands there with his sword in hand, dreadfully blank. He holds no emotion. No rage, none that she wakes with nightmares from time to time.

Is it worse? She thinks, blinking back tears as she shifts to take him all in.

Is it worse that I see nothing? That he still doesn't care? She breathes in shakily, almost laughing. Hysterical, even. There's no way.

There is no way he stands before her, in a room that has since become a memory after Pain's devastating attack. There is no way, she promises herself, that the boy that killed her heart exists once true, one more time, to taunt her and abandon her hopes—

Eons worth of answers, and the first thing she does is laugh.

The room goes frighteningly silent.

She laughs, disbelievingly, then cuts it short to bring her hands together.

They form a sign, "Kai!" She yells.

Nothing happens.

"Kai!"

Nothing.

"Stop," The man says before she can try again.

She's shaking.

She knows she is, and she cannot meet the gaze of who addresses her. Instead, she looks up at her clone, desperate. "This can't be real," She vows. She itches to try again. There's not much chakra she can give to the situation.

The woman looks sad. "It is," Her hands reach to lower hers and Sakura lets her.

She can't look.

She can't fucking look.

If she does, she might flee. Or attack. She doesn't know.

"I think it's best if you leave, Sasuke-kun," The woman says softly.

Sakura doesn't know how to process that.

"Alright," The man answers attentively. Splotches of melancholy bring a horrifying surprise. She's yet to hear his voice, but it's there, and it's the same with just a slightly lower pitch and Sakura—

She closes her eyes and begs herself not to weep.

"It's okay," Her older self states, soothing and warm after several minutes. Her head presses against a mother's embrace.

Am I a mom?

Sakura starts to cry.

"I'm here."

It seems her lesson repeats; the only one that will be there for her is herself.

[. . .]

Sasuke wakes up somewhere soft. He doesn't open his eyes yet, but he does shuffle slightly to the heated pad embracing his body. His head hurts, but it's wavering when something cold presses against his forehead. He smells dirt and something else... maybe blood.

However, wherever he is, it's comfortable. He doesn't want to move from the warmth of where he presses against, so instead of attempting to figure out why he's so blissed out, he curls further inward.

"Aww..."

Sasuke flares his eyes open.

He snaps his head to where he heard the voice, somewhere behind him, locating a very tall Sakura that shouldn't be tall and—

That's the adult Sakura he saw. She's holding her hands together, cooing at him from beside his adult self who looks more tired than the last time he saw him. Why is she...?

Wait. Right next to him, he hears breathing. There's also a steady heartbeat from where he presses his hand, and...

Who's...

Sasuke flickers his head to look up and locks eyes with a much younger-looking Sakura, though there's not much of a difference besides the hair and the missing purple diamond on her forehead.

Sasuke yelps and pulls himself away like he's been burnt, but he doesn't fall on the floor because the teenage Sakura is holding onto him like he's her lifeline. "Careful," She says softly, and Sasuke blushes furiously.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

"Let me go," He growls.

"No," She states. He gapes at her, confused that she would refute his command. She stares at him somewhat tiredly. "You're chakra-exhausted, Sasuke-kun."

The honorific makes his heart jump. "I don't care," He hisses at her, and it's childish enough to go on deaf ears. Or maybe she'll never let go of him. Hearing her say his name so gently makes him desperate to escape her. Why is she so...

Sage, this is the worst.

He clutches at his face, both to hide it and to make sure he can feel his fingers probing.

Somehow nothing feels real.

"It's fine," The Oldest Uchiha comes to the rescue and Sasuke quickly removes himself from the girl's arms when she lets go, "He's had enough chakra to last him a few hours."

Once free, Sasuke steps back and crosses his arms, sending her a wary look. The teenage girl looks reluctant, but she doesn't fight it. She settles more inward to herself at the edge of the couch that distinctly looks like the one he spent his time suffering in when they all decided to go to Kakashi's place.

Wait.

"Where are we?" He demands, facing the adult. The teenager is off in the corner, sitting next to the still-body of his true teammate.

"My place," Kakashi emerges, looking just as well-put as he'd seen him earlier. Except his hair is a shade lighter than usual. "It's been two days. You're finally awake."

Sasuke balks. "Two days!?"

"Yes," The pink-haired woman interrupts, coming closer until she's at eye level with him. Sasuke stiffens when she nudges green hands to his neck. "Your chakra was baritone enough to cause complications with your organs. Your liver had shut down, so I needed to perform an emergency surgery and heal it by hand. I love my husband, but he's not a doctor and he could've put you in grievous internal injuries had he not stopped from putting more chakra that night." The Grown Sakura angles her head to raise an eyebrow at the Uchiha who stays silent and blank-faced.

"How did it fail?" Sasuke blurts, not willing to acknowledge the dreaded 'L' word.

"You were recycling too much chakra at a time. One chakra transfusion is fine on the go, but if it's constant, your liver wastes away." She explains, finally stepping away and giving him his much-needed space.

He rubs his neck, scowling. "I thought you knew what you were doing," He sasses, shooting a nasty look over at the cloaked man.

Said cloaked man does nothing to acknowledge his insult.

Instead, Kakashi takes charge of the conversation. "It's good to see you awake, Sasuke. We can finally move onto phase two."

"Phase two?" Sasuke questions, frowning.

"Yes," The teenage girl says, and Sasuke whips around to look at her. He swallows, taking in her appearance. She's wearing a chunin vest and dark clothes. Nothing of the red he expected, nor of the pink hues he might've, for some reason, seen before. She looks tired. Sad, too, with red-rimmed eyes and eyebags so pronounced he's sure she hasn't slept a wink.

He doesn't know why, and he doesn't want to, not when she so shamelessly held him. Embarrassing him was uncalled for. He's fine! She just... She must still have a gigantic crush on him which...

Sasuke looks at his teenage clone, assessing. The boy is looking down at the other Sakura—his young teammate—who has turned her body around to face the wall he occupies. Is he doing it to avoid his Sakura? But...

This Sakura isn't jumping at any chance to be on him. In fact, out of everyone in the room, she's the farthest.

"—going to go look for him."

Sasuke blinks back into the one-sided conversation, immediately removing his eyes when the 17-year-old Uchiha cracks his neck up.

"What?" The child says stupidly, coaxing the sitting girl to repeat herself.

She doesn't.

Instead, she looks at the three adults, hoping one of them can do it for her.

Sasuke glares at the three of them. The... married couple look at each other knowingly, and Kakashi rubs his temple, haggard.

What the hell did they tell this man?

(Sasuke might just lose his mind if he's denied answers again.

Especially with Sakura.

Where is the scroll?

Why are there three Sakura's?

What happened while he was gone!?)

"Is anyone going to repeat themselves?" Sasuke snaps, irritated by the suspenseful silence.

As always, ironically, the teenage Uchiha gives out an unintentional answer. "We're going to look for Itachi," He breathes lowly, fast. Knowing.

Hopeful.

Sasuke's blood instantly goes cold.

He hurriedly looks at Kakashi, then at his oldest self, and finally at Sakura. The girl, not the woman. He takes careful practice on their faces and the despondent expressions he hates. His heart begins to race, and he grinds his teeth in disbelief. "No..." He grits.

The girl stares at him like she's lost something precious.

(He does not see the 17-year-old Sasuke rise with a finalizing inhale.)

Sasuke throws up.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"The soul of Shinobi remains the same, even for your kid."

[. . .]

Chapter 7

The Bleeding Eye In Your Heart and Mouth

[. . .]

17-year-old Sakura stays as far away as she can.

She sits, emptily, in the corner of a room within the vicinity, facing the floor and tuning out the chakra signatures she has since become accepting of.

She hasn't slept right for two days. An hour or two she's been slumbering away during that period, likely five or seven that she's been half-awake, unable to succumb to the nightly cycle of REM. Those inkling two hours of scarce predictability ended with her waking with a scream lodged in her throat and the flash of red eyes chasing after her.

Nightmares have not been kind to her. Though that's their job, she supposes. To be cruel and demonstrate her unraveling fear so absolutely.

It doesn't help that the source of her nightmares is at an arm-length distance away.

Two sources, if she wants to keep count. Although the teenager is obvious, the boy of twelve years of age is but a wanton memory resurfaced.

To look at him means heartbreak.

But she prefers his company to the rest. Seeing her face, older and wiser, on someone she will become is too promising for her heart to abide. Seeing the little girl she has since grown up from is a bitter reminder of her inelegance as a child. Sasuke is out of the question. The Future Sasuke isn't real to her. Can't be, truly. (Can Sasuke be that kind to her? Is he capable of being that kind to himself to let her love him like that?)

The boy, the child Uchiha is something she can confront with the protection of memory. He is all that she retains of a past colored in pastel pink.

It's cruel, nonetheless.

When Sakura woke up two days ago and her future self explained the situation, she wanted to hide. Not out of fear—not entirely, anyway. It's because she knows her heart will grow into impossible levels again that will drive her to a painful death in the caverns of her heart. She doesn't want to feel more than she does. She's gotten used to this ache in her heart, and she doesn't want His existence coming back to ruin the mantras she's been yearning to believe.

She is a medic. But she cannot mend her heart.

He'll break it again. Hearing the woman—that is her in truth, in life, in flesh and blood—tell her that she must help Sasuke to help herself return to her timeline was something that made her vomit.

So she chose, somewhat childishly, to avoid the teenager all in these two days. She prioritized little Sasuke instead because seeing him hurt made her heart heavy. Little Sakura too, but the 17-year-old Uchiha has discreetly stuttered the distance between the girl and him, so Sakura left her past in his care.

Ironic, she finds.

She's checked up on little Sasuke fervently. As a doctor, she's moderated his health since the surgery and kept him warm. As per her training, she has distracted herself with keeping the patient healthy.

Perhaps that's also why she has not slept much, too. She's afraid that if she closes her eyes, the boy she has cared for will disappear.

And he will, again.

That is absolute.

He's from her past. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Not tonight. He is from years ago before she knew what it meant to grow from the girl who hadn't known better.

It makes her want to cry, but she's tougher than that. She's tired of crying.

(It sucks because, every time she thinks she's run out of tears to cry, they come back. That's just who she is. Someone who doesn't stop caring even when she's supposed to.)

Looking at the Uchiha boy's peaceful face had caught her pretty close, though. He looks so peaceful. So... small. He's a pre-teen, and his body is more than half of hers, but he's a kid. That's all he had been, before. Same as her.

Seeing proof of this Sasuke—the child—lets her fester in nostalgia. He was once real to her. He has since been gone, a long time, five years, weeks before he tried to kill her with the very same hand she had held in the night as she slept by his side during a time the curse that tore it all away was placed on him.

He's gone.

But he's here, and Sakura doesn't know if she'll let go.

But she will, eventually. Maybe she's not ready now. But she will let go one day. When this gets resolved, maybe.

She has to.

She wonders how little Sakura will be. She hasn't woken up either. The girl must be happy.

Somehow, she's not jealous of that. Just worried. Sad. Maybe scared.

That little girl doesn't know what lies ahead of her. She'll be ready, sure, but Sakura doesn't want her to go through that.

Sometimes a reality check is needed. But twice?

To kill hope?

To envision her lost love as her very murderer?

It doesn't sound right.

Sakura is just so tired.

"Sakura."

She lifts her head, lethargic. Her sensei stares back. He looks the same. His eyes are just a little less haunted. Just a little. "Kakashi-sensei," She murmurs, furrowing her brows. This is another person she finds comforting to stare at. He's not cruel, either. Her sensei is the same as always. Her coiled body loosens, and she wants a hug. "What's wrong?" She tempts herself to ask.

His eye curls. "Here." He hands over a glass of apple juice. "You haven't eaten or drank anything."

She wants to cry. "Oh," She lifts her hand and takes it, meek. "Thank you," She whispers, giving him a tired smile.

He nods and pulls away. "Well," He then says, looking awkward. Right. The sight of his uncertainty sobers her melancholy into brutal loneliness. This Kakashi hasn't sat by her when she cried about Sasuke when they would catch up. He must think of her as a stranger. "I'll head out and get food in a moment. I just wanted to check up on you."

Sakura puts the glass to her lips and drinks. It's refreshing and soft, tangy with sweetness and cider. She swallows until it's empty. "I'll be okay," She admits, unsurprised that she wants more. "Thank you for checking up on me, Sensei." She's not going to try and envision how lonely it was when he took up ANBU again. A failed Genin team will do that to a tragic person like him.

Kakashi's eye-smile returns. He's probably not convinced. "You've grown," He tells her.

Her bottom lip begins to wobble so she turns her face away. "Yeah," Her voice comes out, thankfully, steady.

He leaves not long after that. He knows, and she appreciates him a little more.

She makes to stand to put the glass away but stops when she senses someone in front of her.

"Let me."

Sakura swallows, head still hung down. Wordlessly, she hands over the empty glass into the hand of the Oldest Sasuke. He lingers a bit like he wants to say something, but he leaves. Sakura lets herself relax against the corner she's been occupying ever since little Sasuke woke. She feels guilty that she hasn't looked him in the eye since she came here, but she doesn't like to do that. Maybe it's hope that she's scared of and that all of this is just a cruel prank to make her happy again.

Sakura doesn't like that a boy she loves is the only thing that she feels is going to make her happy. She's a grateful girl. She loves her friends that have been there for her, and she loves her teachers that have helped her grow. She loves herself too because she's accomplished much, but...

But why is she so miserable, still?

Why can't she move on?

It frustrates her. Sakura wants to move on. Desperately. She doesn't need the pain of a boy to draw her heart out just to break it. She's cried enough for him. Everyone said so. Everyone says that Sasuke doesn't deserve her. Nor of her love. Nor her devotion. And especially not her hope.

But that's the thing, isn't it? She hasn't given any of that away.

He hasn't taken any of it.

He never has.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sakura snaps her head up, locking eyes with herself. The woman she'll become. The mirror is jarring, but she sees herself a bit in the knowing sadness in her eyes. Sakura's chest aches and her hands sting.

"You haven't slept," The woman points out gently, crouching to meet her level. Sakura takes her in, trying not to shrink in on herself. She's had two days to accommodate her presence, though there are still instances that she finds eerie. "I can put you to sleep if you want. You need the rest," She continues, thankfully hushed.

Sakura can't help but turn her leaden gaze onto the Sasuke of her memories, who, already, stares at her like he's seeing something confusing. Or is it concern? Sakura can't quite tell with him. To her, he's always been angry or sullen. "...Will he be okay?" She whispers, though with how the boy stiffens, it seems he's heard her anyway.

"Yes," Her older self replies with conviction. "I'll make sure of it."

Sakura regards her again briefly and then drops her forehead to her knees to stare at the darkness. "Okay," She relents. She's known not to trust herself. She feels too much, and maybe the girls from the Academy were right to tell her that she is not made to be a ruthless Shinobi.

But Sakura trusts herself anyway.

In times like these, it's the only thing she can do.

There's a touch of something warm against her neck before Sakura succumbs to much-needed slumber.

(She does not dream of him, this time.)

[. . .]

"Why is she like that?"

Shadow Hokage Uchiha Sasuke stops meditating on the plan to send a Shadow Clone to Itachi to hone in on his youngest self's question. He's since cleaned up his vomit and refreshed himself with the help of his wife who the child likes and tries his best to hide that he does. "Who?" He prompts, though he has a good idea of who the kid is talking about. When he peeks an eye open, the Uchiha child is glaring at him with excessive worry in his pinched countenance.

"...Sakura," He grits, looking behind him at the girl.

Sasuke opens both of his eyes to look at the teenage girl being comfortably set over a pillow by his wife, who unfolds the blanket later to cover the girl he knows hasn't slept for two days because of him. Or, more precisely put, his adolescent self. "Like what?" Sasuke goads, because if this kid is going to start a conversation involving his wife, he doesn't want him being vague.

The boy looks like he swallowed a lemon. "...Like that," He gestures half-heartedly toward her. "Like... Like she's scared of us."

"She might be scared," Sasuke allows. "She's upset, too."

"So you do know," The boy accuses. He looks impossibly angry.

Sasuke inclines his head, gut-wrenchingly guilty. He still has yet to return the forgiveness his wife gave so freely. He still has yet to love her like she should have been, all these years. His meditative position drops altogether for him to sigh. "I don't believe it's my right to say."

"Your right?" The child looks skeptical.

"Ask my wife," He deadpans but that's only to hide his festering wound at the dejection of the younger teenage Sakura. His wife will know how to answer that. Sasuke knows what he's done, but there's too much of it for him to list off. What ails the adolescent Sakura precisely as of this moment he's not sure himself. Is it because of his abandonment, a wound that is yet to have scabbed over? Or is it when he tried to kill her? Or is it when he promised to harm Konoha, her home (despite it never being the same sensation as home after his entire clan was murdered)?

There's a lot his wife has been through with him.

Too much.

Far too much.

And seeing it for the past two days has made him feel like he should do something other than cook the girl food or pour drinks in so that Kakashi can give it to her. He thinks he knows what to do—to talk and have her process those feelings his teenage self poisoned into her—but his wife advised him to give her time. So he's giving her the space to think, waiting patiently to do a job his juvenile self should do.

He should force the teen to do that.

Unfortunately, the teenager has been keen on sticking next to the youngest Sakura like some aloof cat waiting for their master to rise. The reason the teen is keeping away with her is simple enough for Sasuke to deduce; the 17-year-old feels that the 12-year-old Sakura has yet to betray him. Assuming the 32-year-old is right, his teenage self feels angry being near his 'naive' youngest self, uncomfortable next to him because, again, if he's right, then the teen must feel betrayed that he's not as angry as he is. His wife is a mystery as to why the teenager is avoiding her, and the two teens are evident.

So, it's only correct that the 17-year-old Uchiha feels the safest next to the girl who acts just the same as she did in his past.

It's all headache-inducing.

"Do you even know?" The youngster's cheeks are plumed with crimson, likely caused by the 'wife' comment.

Sasuke taps his finger against his thigh, thinking. "There are many reasons," He divulges.

The boy looks unsure. "...Does it involve... me?"

Sasuke thinks it's funny that even involving Sakura's hurt, he still thinks of himself arrogantly first in her thoughts. Sasuke stares him down, providing a wordless answer.

The 12-year-old Uchiha winces. "Is that why she keeps glaring at me?"

"Glaring?" Sasuke's confused.

"Yes," The youngest huffs, scowling. "It's creepy."

Has she been? Is she angry, too?

Of course, she is, his mind snaps at him. Wouldn't you be, after all that?

Yeah.

"I don't think she's glaring," His wife's voice pops into the conversation, and the two of them jump, quickly looking over to the woman with one hand on her leaning hip. Sasuke tidies, wondering if anyone saw that. "She's making sure you're safe."

"But why?" The boy looks baffled.

Sasuke winces.

His wife raises an eyebrow. "Am I going to tell him, or are you?"

Sasuke says nothing. The boy answers for him. "He said I should ask you," He drones.

Sakura deadpans. "Really?"

Sasuke, scolded, looks away. His wife would know better than him. He doesn't want to assume, though that's useless to prevent because he's been assuming this entire time.

"So?" The Uchiha child glares, crossing his arms.

"So she wants to keep you safe," Sakura replies. "I don't think that warrants a reason."

"Yes, it does. She doesn't know me."

"Of course, she does," His wife states coyly, thumbing to the other 12-year-old in the room, "She's the future of your sleeping teammate over there."

Sasuke doesn't butt in to tell his beloved that this tiny boy doesn't think his teammate knows him because she fawns all over him rather than understanding the complexities of his character. Not that the kid has ever let her. Brooding and anger as a mood isn't exactly a nice way to keep a conversation, let alone start one. What right does he have to correct his wife, anyway? In a way, she's right.

She's always been right.

(Renowned Medical Kunoichi Uchiha Sakura has been nothing but the sun in his shadow since she's come back to him.

She's reassured him time and time again these past few days even though he doesn't deserve it. Although he has atoned, his past comes back to bite him in the ass again in the form of the literal manifestations of their past. He can see the way his teenage self sneaks peeks at the teenage Sakura who has not granted him the blessing of her jade eyes. He can see how the teenage girl trembled and kept to herself, and he can see the depleted drown slugging the Uchiha teenager's usual straight form.

The silence has been overwhelming.

But Sakura does what she does best, and that brings life into the otherwise dead atmosphere. She is the only one mouthing every known consonant, and Sasuke is grateful because discussing their next move and how pretty he looks with her headband on is far greater than the solemn silence everyone—the unconscious kids included—is trying to fuel.

Kakashi pitched in his two cents too, commenting about Jiraiya's upcoming arrival and how ridiculous it is that they've somehow managed to reproduce—Sakura had punched him for that one. His former sensei has consistently been a vexing feather brushing occasionally on his side, persistent in his mischievous approach on how fond he is that they've grown.

Sasuke knows it's because he's endeavoring to hide the sticky mold of melancholy emanating from the two teenagers farthest from each other. One from fear, and one from uncertainty. Though, it applies to both, doesn't it?

"I don't think Jiraiya can figure out this one. It's not any Fuinjutsu or language I've ever seen," Kakashi is hushed when he says this, a day after he took them in because there are enough seals in his house to hide their chakra this time around. Sasuke had been surprised by Kakashi's compliance after his show of intimidating the Hokage, but apparently, Kakashi felt guilty for putting them all in that position. His wife had appeased him further with a promise of what they were and what they were trying to do, and Sasuke wasn't bothered to find that his former sensei trusted Sakura more than him. It's not shocking. Sakura had always been Kakashi's favorite. "This scroll is... it's all gibberish."

Sasuke takes a look at it again over Sakura's spare shoulder Kakashi isn't crowding on, careful not to touch it.

Love and Hatred of Uchiha

Rather, Bound in Trust

Inner Strength becomes Manifested

And Holds the Blood of Jikkan

To Love the Art of Violence

A Ghost of Mine.

"I think it speaks more about my connection to Sasuke," His wife inputs, pointing to the second line. "Bound in Trust, right? Sasuke and I trust each other."

"You can read that?" Kakashi looks doubtful.

Sakura nods. "I can. It makes sense, no? It's my scroll." She ponders. "This handwriting looks familiar."

"Does it?" Kakashi prompts.

Sasuke narrows his eyes, Sharingan and all. He takes careful consideration of every stroke.

His wife proves correct. "It looks like Sarada's."

Silence.

"It's still surreal to hear that the two of you got fresh and frisky," Kakashi lightly juts in, breaking the silence.

The unimpressed looks given to the blank-faced Hatake at least lessen some of the tension. Unfortunately, his light-hearted attempt at humor does little to abide by Sasuke's growing distress.

Sasuke doesn't like the idea of some version of his daughter creating this entire mess. It doesn't have merit because Sarada wouldn't do this unless there is a deeper reason. But that's it, isn't it? For him and his wife to come into the past, there must be something more to it going on. A jutsu this powerful seems to have been created just for them, and he's worried about what that entails.

Both scrolls have different writing.

Except for the last line.

Sasuke can read it, Sakura can read it, but Kakashi can't. Why is that? The Hatake was able to before, with his scroll.

Carefully, Sasuke takes out his to compare. The teenager has perked with interest and finally approaches the small table. He unrolls the scroll and skims through it. "...Honey, why is Boruto's chakra mixed with yours?" His wife suddenly asks.

Sasuke's stomach drops.

Sasuke thinks he's been the most stupid person since he's come here. That... Now that his wife has put that into perspective, Sasuke blanches upon the realization. Very meticulously, if he peels layer by layer the grounding weight of this chakra, he discovers that its distinct tang that is Boruto is very much prominent. Sasuke had sensed the chakra and assumed it was of Uchiha and Hyuuga descent respectively, but now...

"Who is Boruto and Sarada?" The teenager sharply demands, glaring at the woman looking more disturbed by the minute.

Sakura blinks, surprised at being addressed by the teen who's been avoiding her. "Ah. You haven't told him, dear?"

"They know too much of the future already," Sasuke grunts, still reeling from the woeful news.

Sakura frowns. "I suppose... Though telling them won't bring much harm, would it? We still exist, after all. My manifestation is the confirmation of separate timelines."

"We're still not too sure about that," Sasuke bites the inside of his cheek.

"Not completely, no. But denying him the truth when it's obvious it'll be mentioned at some point in time is pointless."

She has a point.

Sasuke sighs.

Sakura turns to the skittish teen, "Boruto is Naruto's son. Sarada is—"

"Naruto has a son?" It's calmly stated, but the tick on the 17-year-old Uchiha's left eye brings much light to how he actually feels.

Sakura grins. "Yes. A bit of a riot, that kid. But he has very good manners!"

"To you," Sasuke mumbles. "To me, he's a nuisance who lacks discipline."

"You still agreed to train him. That means you see potential!"

Sasuke very carefully does not roll his eyes. "I'm doing Naruto's dumbass job."

"Uh-huh. You do have a soft spot. Admit it."

"No."

"Admit it~" Sakura pokes his side, giggling.

Sasuke tries not to recoil at the touch. He's not exactly ticklish, but his wife's dexterous fingers know his pressure points. She has become quite the fear factor. The teenager doesn't seem to react to her teasing, but Sasuke isn't fooled. The chakra fluctuates rapidly. "Back to the scroll. It has my chakra because in order to execute the jutsu, it took it. I have no clue about why Boruto's is here."

"He might be behind it," His wife says with a sigh.

He begins to rub his temple.

"Interesting," Kakashi pokes the scroll lightly, "So Naruto also got hitched? My. You lot are freaky."

Sasuke and Sakura glare at him scorchingly.

"Anyway," Sakura grumbles, tugging Kakashi's ear that he later rubs, chastised, "Boruto might be behind it, but it still doesn't explain Sarada's writing."

"It doesn't," The Adult Uchiha grimly agrees. So does it mean they're both part of it? And if so, why? Why create all of this?

The teenager glares further. "You still haven't told me who Sarada is."

"Oh," Kakashi's mischievous tone puts Sasuke on edge, "Haven't you heard? She's—"

The teenage Sakura lurches awake, bursting the tranquil essence of the room with her rising chakra. Everyone goes quiet to check on her, looking over to find her shivering, coiled, form.

"...I'll go check," His wife murmurs, parting from the conversation.

Sasuke lingers his gaze, feeling the wound in his chest curdle in remorse as she helps the girl compose herself. When he turns back to the other occupants, Kakashi is thumbing mindlessly at the edge of his scroll, and the adolescent Uchiha is gone, off to sit next to the little Sakura again.

He has an overwhelming urge to sigh.

There is too much going on. If Sarada and Boruto are truly behind this, he prays their reasoning isn't as dire as he expects it to be.

He prays, even if it annoys him, that this is all just some prank.

But then why write such elaborate phrases? Why give it to him? Because if the 12-year-old's story and description of the girl are right, then Sasuke has no other choice but to assume that it was Sarada who gave the scroll over.

He just doesn't know.

"We should wait for Jiraiya after all, then," Kakashi inputs with finality.

Sasuke sighs, finally. "That's what the Hokage meeting is for," He tiredly answers, glancing at the thinking Hatake.

Kakashi inclines his head.)

He trusts his wife when she says that the letter the teenager sent days ago and his shadow clone will be enough to bring Itachi here.

He trusts his wife when she says that their plan for a method of silence is the best option.

He trusts his wife to let him know that, out of everyone, the writing truly does belong to Sarada. She knows her best. She's always known best.

"Whatever," The Uchiha Child's frown becomes a sneer, and Sasuke clocks back into the conversation. "...I still don't understand why... why we need to look for—for Him." He spits the unnamed individual with hate, fear, and disgust.

Well, that's one hell of a topic change, Sasuke moots.

His wife's answer comes fast. "I understand it's not something desired. That's why we will limit the contact between you two as much as possible. You don't need to relive undisclosed trauma, especially this early on. There is a time and place for everything."

"So then why Him?" The child snaps, clenching his fists. "If... If you know how bad it is for me!"

Sasuke notices Kakashi carefully scoot away from the vicinity. Coward, Sasuke thinks.

"Unfortunately, there aren't any other Uchiha's that can tell us additional information," Sakura points out.

"Because of Him—"

"Exactly. So it's also his responsibility to fix this. Who the hell, in their right mind, would leave a child unattended like this? I sure as hell wouldn't."

Said child trembles. "He—he won't. He'll hurt us," He side-eyes Sasuke, likely imploring him to give her some sense. Fat chance that'll happen. She can handle herself, anyway. He's only worried about how Itachi'll turn out.

His wife scoffs. "Hurt us? Not possible! I'm the strongest Kunoichi in history. He's going to have to go through me," She punches her fist to her open palm, smirking. "You have nothing to worry about. And you know what? I have a few good beatdowns waiting for him for all the stress he's caused you," Sakura narrows her eyes on her husband, and he internally mopes. "Don't plan to stop me, either, honey."

The child looks between them, agitated and skeptical.

"I don't control you," He answers dispassionately. (Fearfully.)

"I know," She chirps. "But truthfully?" She bends at her knees to peer down at the youngest Uchiha, "I think you'll find he cares a lot more than you think, Sasuke-kun."

"That's a lie," He snarls.

Sakura draws back and looks at her husband. "Well. I'm going to be his therapist and work this out."

Sasuke sighs.

Better her than him, he supposes.

Warily, the Genin Uchiha backs away as his wife comes closer to him. The child then begins to squirm helplessly when his wife engulfs him in an unanticipated hug. "My poor sweet boy," She coos, rubbing his head and Sasuke snorts when the boy's face blooms a burning red.

He tries to push her away. "Let go of me—"

"I'll protect you, okay? Don't trust my husband though, he's very bad at that."

"Thanks," Sasuke says sarcastically.

"You're very welcome, dear."

"Let go!"

She does not let go.

[. . .]

"So. Don't put chakra in it," The mysterious stranger who looks kind of like Iruka-sensei but not tells Naruto, and Naruto is mad.

Since meeting the two other Sasuke's, Naruto's life has become incredibly lonely. He hasn't seen his teammates in over two days, maybe more, and he's upset that Kakashi-sensei doesn't explain why during training. Naruto deserves to know! He's been worried sick and he's afraid that they've been hurt or—or—or worse! Whatever it may be, Naruto attempted to sneak into Sasuke's house for answers—not Sakura-chan's because he was scared she'd kick him but he will visit today!—just to find nothing.

They've all gone missing.

So what did Naruto do? He became a detective. (Rather than tell the Hokage, because this is Naruto's S-Rank self-imposed mission, okay?)

Unfortunately, his skills are lackluster (he has no resourceful thinking skills like Sakura-chan or observational aspects like the stupid Uchiha bastard) and his only clue has been the stupid, tiny scroll he found in his house that he hasn't been able to open at all.

Worse yet, that weird but nice creep who believes in him has been harassing him non-stop over it!

"Why!? You said I could!" The Uzumaki complains, swiping the scroll from his hands. He's been trying to figure out how to open this dumb thing for like, ever. It's only now that he gets his answers, and it was something evident like putting chakra in it the whole time. Naruto hates scrolls.

The stranger lets him. "'Cuz! Plus I said you could only use it in an emergency. Like. A big one. I don't even know why the hell I made this one," He grumbles, trailing off with a pensive look.

"Hah!?" Naruto issues him the nastiest stink eye.

"Whatever, kid. Just don't open it unless I say so, okay?"

"You're confusing, datteba'yo!" Naruto whines, hitting him with the scroll on his arm in frustration. The snort he receives only fuels his anger. "First you tell me to open it, then you tell me not to, then that it's for emergencies, and now I'm only allowed to when you tell me!? Make up your mind!"

The stranger has the decency to wince. "Okay. When you put it that way... Fine. Look. Forget everything I said."

Naruto's eye twitches. "Why you—"

"Listen," The stranger puts a comforting hand on Naruto's shoulder and he concedes, sniffing petulantly. "This is an important scroll. Yes. I'm the only one that knows about it. No, don't tell anyone about it."

"Stop repeatin' stuff. Just say what you're gonna say," Naruto grumps. He's heard this enough already for the past days he's been by himself. If he hears it one more time, he's gonna lose his mind.

"Right," The stranger rubs his blue eyes, tired.

Naruto waits.

"The next time I come visit you, I need you to put your chakra in it."

"Okay. But what's in it, datteba'yo?" Naruto scowls, shaking the item of discussion. He needs to find out. Maybe this is a clue for where his precious teammates disappeared off to.

The stranger sighs. "It's complicated to explain."

"So uncomplicate it."

"No," The stranger denies, and Naruto groans.

"Then what's the point—!"

"Oh shit."

Naruto stiffens at the look of horror that manifests abruptly on the creep's face, directed behind him. "What? What is it?" The boy turns around, Shinobi's stance ready for an attack. Except there's... nobody. No way. Is this guy Skits Orphanage? Or whatever Sakura-chan said about people seeing things that aren't there?

"Are you Skits Orphanage? There's nobody here."

When he turns back around, the stranger is gone.

Naruto immediately fumes. That stupid asshole tricked him!

The stranger distracted him and left him alone!

Naruto's damn tired.

"Screw him," He mumbles to himself, "I can do what I want, datteba'yo!"

In spite and slight hurt, Naruto's control over his chakra spirals ineffectively as he injects it without abandon into the scroll, foregoing the nonsensical warnings of a potential kidnapper. After Mizuki-sensei, Naruto's not stupid enough to do what a stranger says.

When he realizes that he's put in enough that the scroll rejects it, Naruto holds it, panting lightly. "Man. This thing took a lot!" He observes, looking around and twisting it about.

For a second, nothing happens.

Naruto begins to accuse the cloaked stranger of being a liar in his head right as it suddenly bursts into a pitching gold.

Naruto yelps and throws it to the wall, covering his burning eyes.

(Memories of stealing the Forbidden Scroll of Shadow Clone Jutsu repopulate his yearning mind, making him curse himself.

He's done it again, hasn't he?

And Iruka-sensei isn't here to help.)

A deafening rattle rings his head dumb, and Naruto shelters his ears too, yelling at the pain it brings.

Finally, when everything dwindles into a dull ringing, Naruto achingly looks over.

He does not expect to find a blonde head of hair attached to a rather taller body inhabiting a good color of orange.

[. . .]

27-year-old Uchiha Sarada grunts as she lands on her knees, forming a steaming crater on the once grassy field on impact.

The rust in her bones lingers as the breeze brings relief to her scorching and scarred skin, dissipating after a few minutes of much-needed reprieve. The wind picks up as she makes to stand. She exhales a soft breath, honing her steely eyes on her surroundings, letting the psithurism of what seems like Summer cradle her short hair.

The Land of Grass.

The bloody blade in her hand is flicked off, spraying the mourning ambiance.

A mission chants in her head.

Find Uchiha Sasuke.

She was kicked out once.

She won't tolerate a second time.

[. . .]

The moon is high in the sky, casting a lunar glow to all that it is blessed to lather.

"Excuse me," 17-year-old Sakura spits, keeping a carefully blank face as she watches Sasuke—her Sasuke, the same age as her—lift his head to acknowledge her. He sits by the slumbering body of her past self, calm and without a care in the damn world.

While I've been losing my fucking mind.

She's woken up about thirty minutes ago. Kakashi gave her a sandwich as soon as she did, one that she ate reluctantly because it's not healthy to skip meals that her depression likes to poke fun at, and for the past twenty or so minutes, she's been glaring at the occupated spot of one adolescent Uchiha and 12-year-old girl. Her dreams and proper rest provide a rejuvenated emotion to the surface.

Anger.

She gathers strength to keep it in check while menacingly hovering over the addressed Uchiha's shoulder. She doesn't know why she's so angry. "I need to take a look at her."

For a moment, he doesn't move.

In those crucial seconds of agonized silence, Sakura tastes blood in her mouth from biting the side of her cheek so hard. Inner has been quiet for years—occasionally coming back with a vengeance when she fights or feels cocky in her line of work—but at every mention of Sasuke, Inner invokes a wrath so visceral that Sakura has trouble stopping it from surfacing and promising cruor.

Sakura doesn't blame Inner.

Inner is the girl she's been wanting to be for as far as she could remember. Inner has the power to do what she can't. The resilience. The constant determination and reverence that Sakura often wonders why she lacks.

The chanting of murder in her head when her soul feels like crying her heart out is a tremendous sensation of psychomachy. All because of this piece of shit—her first love.

When Sasuke finally moves, Inner calms down slightly. Sakura doesn't care to watch him as he makes to stand and linger by the wall closest. She gets on her knees, places a hand on her past self's forehead and abdomen, and runs a diagnostic.

Her tense shoulders lower in relief. Although the girl is extremely weak due to a lack of liquid vitamins and nutritional consummation, her body has replenished most of the blood she's lost. She's ready to be woken up.

"Is she okay?"

Sakura snaps her head up to lock in on the 12-year-old Sasuke hovering with crossed arms, decidedly away from the Uchiha adolescent admiring the floor like an idiot. Now that she realizes, she hasn't seen him since she's woken up. It's a relief to see that he doesn't look like he's chakra exhausted.

Her expression softens. "Yes," She tells him, glad that the headache Inner's monologuing caused is diminishing from her silence.

The Uchiha child nods curtly, eyeing the girl.

Sakura doesn't know what to feel.

Has he always asked about her like that? She's never seen such a look of concern on his face before. "I'm going to wake her now," She turns back to the rising and falling chest, "Do you think you could get me a glass of water?"

He wordlessly scampers away.

(She can feel the eyes of Kakashi and the Future Sasuke in the room scrutinizing them.)

She pumps a few more coordinated chakra bursts throughout her past self's body, healing bits and pieces of wasted away tissue before pressing her index and middle finger to the girl's forehead. Her gentle management sends an electrical current that'll spark the brain into rousing.

The girl doesn't wake up.

That's to be expected, Sakura thinks as she pulls her hands away. The only indication her technique worked is the hitch of breath that mellowed into its previous steady rhythm.

"Why isn't she awake?"

Sakura takes the offered, fresh, glass of water and sets it next to the girl's head. "It takes a bit," She informs, rising from her crouched position. She turns to look at little Sasuke who looks irritated as always. The sight makes her lips quirk up. "Her body may be ready to wake, but her mind might not be."

"And when will she be ready?" He demands.

Inner hisses a curse at his insolence that Sakura chooses to ignore. "I don't know for sure. It could be a minute, a day, or a week from now. Maybe a month. But a month is stretching it," She admits, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her hair must look like a damn mess. She also hasn't bathed in a few days. Neither has she brushed her teeth.

She must stink.

"Do you think you could tell her to drink that when she wakes up?" She asks the kid. "I'm going to freshen up."

"...Fine," He says, and Sakura doesn't miss how he side-eyes the teenage Uchiha who hasn't moved an inch.

Is it the urge to console that infects her dwindling body? Sakura doesn't know why she says it. "Don't worry about him. He's just a loser who can't speak anything but bullshit." Maybe because she doesn't say it. Inner does.

She resists the urge to slap a hand to her mouth in shock as the 12-year-old Sasuke widens his eyes and regards his attention to the teenager who's now staring at her. She can feel it. She doesn't need to turn her head to look. His gaze burns.

"Wow," Kakashi quips in the misting silence. Her attention lands on him. The irritating Hatake lounges with a bowl of take-out next to an incredulous 32-year-old Uchiha, mid-way through putting a dumpling in his mouth. "Quite a potty mouth you have on you, Sakura-chan."

Sakura blanches. But she doesn't apologize. Instead, she turns and looks for the bathroom.

Just as she does, the door to the restroom opens, and out comes her future self. The woman stops drying her hands in the air to smile at her, just for it to dissolve. "Eh? Are you alright? You look like you saw a ghost. Actually, I get it," She grabs Sakura and pulls her inside the restroom, "You don't have to worry! I forced Kakashi to get us towels and all the essentials girls need."

Sakura takes in the humid room with many colorful assortments she knows Kakashi would never have.

"He's so nice. He got us our favorite shampoo and everything. He also got you new clothes, see?" The woman lets go of her to trifle inside a bag next to the toilet, revealing a crimson shirt and long black shinobi pants. "I spared a shadow clone for our undergarments. I figured if we're going to be here a while, we should prepare, right? Anyway. That shadow clone is serving in little Sakura's place, so it doesn't arouse suspicion. Toothbrushes and mouthwash are here," She opens the mirror cabinet, "And I got you your very own brush! It should work great for the knots in your hair."

Sakura takes the pink hairbrush. She blinks.

The woman hums, rubbing her chin as she looks around. "I believe that's all... Oh did Kakashi give you that sandwich I made? He better have."

Sakura nods, trying to piece herself together.

"Good!" Her future self comes close to hug her and kisses her on her forehead. "I know it's been a rough few days. You'll surpass them, I know it," She murmurs, and Sakura feels her eyes burn a bit but with no tears, embracing her in return.

When Sakura pulls away, the woman beams down.

Confident.

Secure.

Happy.

Sakura smiles if slightly, back. "I hope so." Inner praises her indefinitely.

32-year-old Sakura grins wider and turns to walk out the door.

"I know so!" She chirps, closing the entrance behind her.

Sakura sighs.

She can only hope so.

[. . .]

Freshly bathed and clothed, 17-year-old Haruno Sakura brushes her hair, wincing every time one of the longer portions of it endeavors to unknot under her grueling command.

She feels far better than before and makes the effort to look at herself in the mirror, thinking. Her head bobs with every stride of the brush and Sakura thinks that the fresh moisturizer she's applied feels far better on her cracked skin than the blood of an enemy.

Unfortunately, thoughts about the Fourth Shinobi World War make her revitalizing mercy dwindle. It makes her stomach hurt.

She's not there to help. Many people are going to die if she's not there.

Her eyes close, restless.

She can only pray that her absence causes time to pause. It's a lot to ask for, but...

"Aunt Sakura."

She startles and nearly drops her brush as she cracks her neck to look at the bathroom window that—

"What the hell, Naruto!?" She hisses in shock but falters because that can't be Naruto. For one, the blonde boy squeezing his way through the small opening has a scar. Secondly, his hair is styled differently—everything is styled differently. The coat and attire scream Sasuke but it can't be Sasuke because his face and body proportions are anything but Sasuke. She brings out the kunai strapped to her side, frowning warily. "What the... You're not Naruto. Who the hell are you?"

With a groan the boy—tall as all hell—gets up from the wet floor, dusting himself off. "I'll tell ya later. Where's Mr. Sasuke?" He makes a face, scrunching his nose as he looks around a bit.

Sakura's confused. "Huh?"

The Blonde walks past her, to the door, "Sorry for being rude, Aunt Sakura, but I need to find Mr. Sasuke immediately. There's been an upsetting change of events that may or may not destroy this timeline I've been actively trying to preserve—" The blonde Not-Naruto opens the door and freezes.

Sakura freezes too.

The three adults—her future self, the oldest Sasuke, and her sensei—are on the other side staring the boy down.

The meddling trespasser recovers fast.

"Oh. Cool. I found you. Mr. Sasuke, you're going to die."

Chapter Text

[. . .]

" With a candle through time,  I could still see your ghost,

But I can't close my eyes, for it—

For it is there where you haunt me most. "

[. . .]

Chapter 8

The Casualties of the Heart

[. . .]

Scooped from the weeping wound of his heart, 17-year-old Uchiha Sasuke has gone sick with madness.

He's infirm. Ill. Dying, for the past two days.

It's a miracle he hasn't succumbed to the gnawing, rotting remorse spreading its infectious disease into his heart and crawling with serrated thorns into his throat. The filthy poison of attachment is weakening his tongue from sounding out all the things he wants to say, wrenching around his soul like a hissing cobra corroding his sanity bit by bit. Intense, evasive eyes are cruelly rupturing every wall he has spent years building.

All of his efforts to keep everyone away, just to fall at the sight of Sakura.

Sakura, Sakura, Sakura.

He hasn't stopped looking at her.

From the moment he'd seen her hanging in his future self's arm, he'd been thirsting his sights on her, swallowing eyeful after eyeful. Shamelessly too, because it's been a solid minute since he's last seen her before he pursued his greatest mistake—a mistake that remains throbbing in the back of his head, fighting its spot against the presence of Sakura.

Undecided on what's important.

Watching her is both a gracious blessing and a vicious malediction.

He's tried to dismiss her because in truth the time situation is tremendous compared to the feelings for the girl's heart he broke and tried to take for himself that fateful day on the bridge. She is just another victim of his actions, and Sasuke shouldn't care, but it's a moot point he's making for himself now. Compared to his denial of Naruto, Sasuke has never denied Sakura.

Physically, yes. As kids, her presence became a slight nuisance when she kept forgetting about boundaries. And then there were the bittersweet interactions between them as they grew that then became a sinking betrayal that he loathes to feel when he recalls how she had planned on killing him after he rejected her offer to leave Konoha. Together.

Like the foolish, loving girl she is.

He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't let her abandon somewhere she thought of as home, just because he had the power to. But he's a selfish asshole and was inclined to accept (because loneliness is a disease that can kill), just to feel it all crumble to dust when she took out her kunai and claimed she'd kill him. Sasuke was profoundly hurt. He was hurt so much that his state of psychosis bubbled over, and he thought—he thought—

He doesn't know what he thought.

He feels ailed to even think about it. But he does. Constantly. Too much. And what followed after.

Of how Naruto came to save her, keeping the promise Sasuke once asked him to swear.

Hence, physically, he has denied Sakura. Time and time again.

But in his mind, her tree roots kept creeping like a noose around his neck.

Every. Damn. Time.

Every experience, every look at her, every touch he remembers vividly, as all Uchiha who love do. But Sasuke can't love. He shouldn't, not her, because he's not worth her. He has never been worth anything except rage, and rage he can understand.

There's a difference between Sakura and Naruto. Naruto, for all his naive beliefs that he'll get him to come home to a disgusting place that'd done nothing but condemn his people, is like the sun. Brilliant, invading, and a ball of ferocious fire that will cook him alive if he casts one glance at it. It's horrible. It's hope, that he exists and Sasuke hates it.

But Sakura is the Earth. Bound to him, cursed to see him revolve and then seeking him out but never probing his space, just drowning in the tsunami of love without him at a distance. And maybe he's a bit of a pompous prick for thinking Sakura needs him to exist, but it's not true. Sakura can well enough take care of herself and has done so without him around, and Sasuke admits in depressive defeat that he's relieved she can.

It reminds him that if a girl who loves him relentlessly can let him go and live, he can go on with his life without the distractions of wicked falsities.

And yet.

She's never left his mind. Not once. Especially not now.

The mantra of keeping everyone out has become easy to adapt. He's been dealing with everything else in life—killing his brother, fucking up Konoha looking for Danzo, finding Itachi again just to end up here right after he's fucking gone—

And she's occupied the darkest corners of his psyche, waiting to pop out.

And pop out she did.

Painfully so.

Whatever charge currently around her is plunging deep into his bones, corrupting the aching marrow from the inside out. Every glance at her follows with a moribund, bleeding squeeze to his heart, emerging a yearning so profound that he cannot preclude the incarnation of scorn he has for himself for causing her the welling hurt on her pretty face.

Sasuke can't stand her. The shape of her soft features, the darkness around her eyes, and the crinkles between her brows pronouncing the bitter down-pour of her lips—all of her punctures his chest over and over and over again. And she holds that knife, submerging him in her pool of tears.

She doesn't look at him. She doesn't acknowledge him. And maybe once upon a time this would've been a good thing, but now...

Sasuke despises it.

He can't... know this part of her. Watching her, finding her wasting away because of what he's done. The guilt is suffocating him alive. And he hates that it's guilt squeezing him to death and not anger. He should be angry at her for trying to kill him. He should be upset she chose Konoha over him, that she chose Naruto's sore kindness over him, that she decided to choose herself over her love—

Everything.

She chose everything but him.

She claims she loves him but Sasuke doesn't believe shit.

(But he knows. He knows feeling like this is wrong, that it's his fault, and that whatever he tries to do now will only hurt her more because that's all he has ever done—but he understands she can't give her life to him. He understands she isn't selfish.

Not like he is.)

So that's why Sasuke prefers to linger around the little Sakura. The girl from his memories, who he had grown to like in his preteen years because she was pretty and smart when she wasn't being a weird devotee, but couldn't bother to pursue because of all the contempt killing his heart. An innocent soul. Not the girl that tried to kill him. Not the girl he tried to kill.

(But did. The night he left will never be forgiven.)

She remains asleep next to him and Sasuke feels less overwhelmed because she isn't looking at him with fear, or glaring at him, or—or anything. She merely exists, comatose, and Sasuke can handle that.

At the cost of seeing his younger self hover protectively over her like the obvious idiot he is, but Sasuke can manage. He's ignored himself for a while so it comes naturally now to tune the boy out whenever he asks needling questions about her state of consciousness.

The bigger pest is... the Adult Sakura.

Sasuke holds his breath and keeps still when she comes close. He can smell the flowery perfume that is bafflingly good because it's not over the top like the Yamanaka's or plain like that Hyuuga Heiress, though he only notices it because she's next to him. A shinobi shouldn't smell like anything in his opinion, but it's fine.

Sasuke is a little twitterpated when he saw the older Sakura's toned arms and the bit of stomach earlier.

A woman of her power has the right to fragrance herself however she likes. No enemy can catch her off guard if they watch out for her scent.

He masks the face he wants to make when his adult self comes close to the older Sakura. They talk in hushed tones and Sasuke's teeth grit when he hears the strong woman coo lovingly, dragging the man away after taking a good look at the slumbering girl. His older self follows like a stupid puppy too, and Sasuke wants to die because he wouldn't—

He releases a tired exhale.

He can't see himself doing that.

He can't see Sakura—his Sakura—willingly come to him and not...

He closes his eyes, willing the image of her smiling face away.

It's just not how it works. It won't ever work, not after all the strife he's caused her. Besides, there are more important things he needs to deal with. For example, getting back to his own time. With Sakura, who will never kiss him, or hug him, or—

He doesn't know how long he sits.

A while.

Too long.

But he dutifully keeps still, ignoring the tentative plates of sandwiches the older Sakura left, ignoring his youngest self's nuisances, ignoring the world.

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until someone's addressing him.

"Excuse me."

Sasuke's heart stops and he snaps himself out of his hazy state to quickly look up at the voice he only hears in his burdensome dreams.

Sakura, he almost says, but doesn't.

She's glaring at him. In irritation, might he add, and Sasuke's desperate leap of his heart plunges into the well of bitterness. (Profoundly grateful and anguished, he notes no amount of hate he expected to see on her pretty face.) His mouth runs dry.

"I need to take a look at her."

Her words take a moment for him to process. He's too enthralled by the sight of her looking at him for once, caught off-guard by the increasing tick of anger between her brows, evident profusely on the heavy scowl that suits a face as nice as hers. Whatever emotion she invokes, she is always tragically beautiful. Sasuke thinks it's unfair.

When he subtly catches her fists clenching, Sasuke quickly moves away to give her access.

(He has yet to see her wrath aimed at him. It doesn't mean it one day won't catch up.)

From the corner of his eye, he watches her take the space and crouch.

She begins by running a diagnostic, something he's seen Karin do with too many handsy gestures he's immensely repulsed by. Her eyes are searching and her chakra is stable, pausing slightly to pour a particular amount he can sense into the sleeping girl. His younger self comes in to ruin the visage like the fly he is, asking curt questions that Sasuke is concededly also asking himself.

They go on, and eventually, the genin leaves to get the glass of water she asked for.

It's just the two of them, again. Technically three, but the 12-year-old girl is unresponsive, and Sasuke has a good eyeful of Sakura's expertise he would much rather focus on than the living corpse.

He doesn't want to, but her gravitational pull is persistent. Strong against the force of his bleeding heart.

The fly of an Uchiha comes back.

Sasuke ignores the conversation, but he boldly chooses to look at her directly. His eyes trace the movement of her lips and the dismal confidence of her stance, writing down unintentional observations that hold no value for the predicament they all find themselves in. Who Sasuke should be attentive to is Itachi. He can respond any day now, and Sasuke needs to be ready to welcome his brother back with open arms.

The obsessive streak that's stained his mind with his brother's depravity is at a constant, but it keeps fighting for a spot inside Sakura's grief, hoping that his mind can split to focus on both. But he can't.

She's here, and his brother isn't, and—

"Don't worry about him. He's just a loser who can't speak anything but bullshit."

His mind goes blank.

What?

His heart begins to race. She's not looking at him, but she's clearly addressed him with the most obvious misdirect in existence. His jaw works and clenches, and he disregards his younger self's worried gaze because he's waiting for Sakura to look at him, to challenge him and mean those cruel words he's never expected to hear from her.

Because why would such a kind girl like Sakura ever say that to him?

She wouldn't, but she did, and Sasuke needs her to look at him so that he'll know if she's serious about them or not.

But she never does.

The nuisance of her older self comes around to grab her attention about hygiene, and Sasuke coils in on himself, looking away like a wet cat that's just had a bucket of watered insults dumped on him.

He stays that way, tucked in a corner, running over Sakura's words in a self-piteous loop for who knows how damn long. That's another thing he's learned about himself throughout all this. This time it's from himself and not what he's seen his other selves do; he hides himself for however many hours and thinks without any care for the outside world.

Which causes unnecessary concern from his older self. It's fucking absurd to be at the receiving end of it, considering it reminds him a lot of his long-deceased father.

Sulking, his older self finally approaches him as he expected him to with the young version of his former sensei with a particular gleam in his eye, and Sasuke resists the urge to sneer at them to make them go away.

He doesn't need their fucking pity.

I deserved that.

Sasuke exhales, sagging further into the wooden flooring. He hears their footsteps go away.

I deserved every word of that.

He closes his eyes in irritated defeat.

I just never expected those words from her.

His ears catch the sound of a glass plate clinking against the spot next to his ankle.

Sasuke reluctantly opens his eyes and controls his expression lest he lets his older self know how he truly feels but stops short when he sees his younger self looking away from him with his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts.

"Eat something," The boy grunts with an awkward chuff of his shoe.

Sasuke glances down to inspect the contents of the plate—another damn sandwich.

He doesn't hate them, really. It even has three thick slices of juicy tomato on it.

He's just unsure that if he takes the gesture the older Sakura is clearly offering again this time through different means, she'll take it as a chance to talk his ears off about a future he isn't sure he deserves.

"I made it," The Kid Uchiha reassures like he can read his mind, sniffing disdainfully at him.

Sasuke doesn't believe him. But he takes the sandwich anyway and pointedly looks away when the boy physically relaxes.

Unfortunately, right as he takes a tentative bite to cool the hunger pains in his stomach he can no longer happily dismiss, a weird pressure comes from the direction he saw Sakura walk into. His Genin self freezes, whipping his head to look at him questionably, but Sasuke doesn't know shit. So he continues chewing the tomato slice he slipped out of the sandwich, staring at him with a deadpan.

Both of them look at the Adult Uchiha after.

The man is already walking to the restroom with the Adult Sakura in tow. A tense minute passes until Kakashi is off with them too.

His younger self scoops the young Sakura into his arms because the pressure becomes stuffed with killing intent his Genin self is handling rather well, considering.

And then a Naruto clone missing a whisker on each cheek comes into view.

[. . .]

Itachi curiously tilts his head to stare at the folded paper attached to the hawk's left foot.

The bigger-than-average bird preens the underside of its left wing, perched lavishly on a branch closer to the ground rather than the high canopy of trees it could have a better advantage finding prey from. Yet Itachi is not foolish enough to think this is a normal hawk; the bird is exclusively concentrated on him, colored in familiar patterns he reminisces many of the Uchiha used.

Before I killed them.

Itachi comes closer to the bird. The 17-year-old found it odd that a chakra source slightly bigger than a genin's worth had been tailing him for nearly a week now. Initially, Itachi believed with a wary heart that it might have been Sasuke. Except for the crucial fact that Sasuke is in Konoha, safe, and far from the potential Itachi expects for the future when they finally battle each other to the death.

During one fretful evening his sickness didn't leave him alone, Itachi decided to distract himself by discreetly investigating who the mysterious little stalker might be.

Only to discover that it was the hawk he'd seen more than enough times eyeing him from a distance. It followed him through his mission with Kisame, hiding perfectly between leaves before the shark man could see him and pitch him down. The creature only shows itself to him when he's alone enough and Itachi had questioned why until he decided to indulge it today, unable to quell his curiosity despite the majorly prevalent risks of it being an ambush.

Thus, he humors this likely summon with a fast-racing heart from his unsatiable cat-like novelty.

To his discordant surprise, upon beckoning the hawk forward because he cannot reach for it himself unless he jumps, it answers him, soaring and jamming its sneaky claws on his offered forearm.

The chakra feels splendidly familiar.

The chirp rumbling from its throat is high-pitched but kind after he goes to pet the top of its head, letting Itachi know that the bird intends no harm. A regular messenger, then, he considers, glancing down at the note tied with a red string. Carefully, Itachi reaches for the end of the string and pulls it apart. The note falls on his palm eloquently.

The paper feels similar to stationary rather than the sophisticated surface of regular mail to important officials. He thumbs it, turning it on its folded underside for exterior clues about whatever it could contain. There's nothing but indents on the page. The answer he seeks lies inside.

Itachi unfolds the note and whips it to hurry it up.

His eyes hone on a chilling sentence.

To my Older Brother,

The grip on the dead tree tightens, shaking—the edges crinkle.

Brother?

His brother?

How?

Suppressing a coughing fit caused by the aggressive descent in his heart, he anxiously reads on.

And then stops dead when the hawk poofs itself away and the shadow of a man with a billowing coat lands on the branch the bird used to be on.

This was a trap, Itachi thinks calmly, locking onto a single eye that he has only ever seen in the mirror.

[. . .]

Boruto eyes the teenage Sasuke with internally verbalized commendations minutes after his abrupt appearance that he was supposed to plan for until Itachi came into the picture.

Alas, when an inter-dimensional, time-jumping, older version of his crush—erhm, Sarada—with a craving for bloodshed lands in the timeline meant to be safe, it's bound to go to shit. There's not much else he can do but reveal himself. Well. That and pay tribute to his young mentor.

While on the outside he's as blank as the Uchiha teenager in the living room he has the grace of settling in, on the inside, Boruto thinks that while the outfit the missing-nin duckbutt wears is over the top, the aura that the teenage Uchiha exhibits is powerful enough to grab his idolizing attention.

Already he can see the making of the man he has pridely grown to acknowledge as his teacher. It's bizarre to witness it in person when he's heard so many stories of Sasuke's rebellious days through his Aunt. It's nothing like how he pictured him.

It's just as jarring as seeing his Genin dad again the second time.

Clenching the hilt of his prized sword on the side, Boruto finally looks away when the Uchiha Adult he fondly remembers in his memories walks back into the living room with Aunt Sakura and Old Man Kakashi in tow.

"You look cool," Boruto expresses sincerely, addressing the adult but nodding casually at the silent adolescent Uchiha who stiffens. "The purple rope is a bit much, no?"

As he remembers him, his mentor remains impassive. "How long do we have until the attacker is upon us?"

Boruto keeps his cool. Back to business, then. He's not surprised. "...Probably a day. Two days."

"All the way from Grass Country?" Aunt Sakura asks doubtfully, brows furrowed.

Boruto nods gravely. "They're quick. Quicker than even you, Mr. Sasuke." The only reason he knows the source is from Grass Country is because that's the last place Boruto battled her. There's also the point that he can sense where she's at, should her threatening presence make a return, which it has.

His mentor's facade slips into a stewing grimmness.

"And you're sure fighting them off won't work?" Kakashi suggests again, which prompts Boruto to shake his head. Earlier on they had a brief talk about what was coming, though most of it was him being threatened and Boruto confirming his identity through a series of questions. The three adults had later made counsel about his truths in a different room, leaving Boruto in the presence of two teenagers and two kids.

Two of which had creepy stares.

"Sorry, Old Man Kakashi. Fighting them is like fighting an army of Juubi Soldiers. As in, all ten tails. And I'm not kidding. They're a force to be reckoned with, datteba'sa. I've tried and failed," He drawls, heart twinging.

(Kakashi side-eyes the two adults warily. "Juubi?" He expresses with slight alarm.

Aunt Sakura smiles sheepishly.)

Boruto remembers cutting future Sarada down with immense pain and regret, seeing as there was no other choice when she turned around and betrayed him by hurting his Sarada—the sixteen-year-old—after she promised she'd help him fight off Kawaki. Upon discovering that she was planning on destroying several timelines—including his timeline—Boruto had convicted himself of living with the horror of hurting Sarada, foreign or not.

Except, his mourning was for naught because his blade wouldn't be enough to kill her. The Uchiha Immortal regrew the grotesquely sliced, bottom half of her body the instant he slashed his blade through it and brought her fist to his face hard enough for his karma to shatter upon manifesting it by instinct.

He had been dreadfully lucky. He was sure that a punch of hers would have snapped his head right off his body, spine and all.

Despite the risks, Boruto had to do something.

It then became a chase through time.

With expertise he had always known she could be capable of, the Adult Sarada opened portal after portal with her left-eyed red Rinnegan. He had endeavored to keep the destruction as minuscule as possible in every timeline and dimension, which wasn't difficult to do because the aggressive Adult Sarada wasn't going around causing an apocalypse everywhere they jumped to.

She was always focused on one target: Sasuke Uchiha.

And the ones he'd seen and could not save were... dreadfully haunting.

The people he couldn't avoid already knew who she was in some dimensions.

The Undead Uchiha, they've called her.

Indestructible. Merciless.

Immortal.

He's unsure how she got back here when he made certain to assemble a seal to keep her away. He remembers gathering enough strength to shove her into the portal she created after he found out she gave the little Sasuke the scroll days after he lost her trail, too late to stop whatever madness she was creating.

Knowing that he didn't have the means to chase her all over again lest his timeline enter grave danger, Boruto returned to his own using the scroll he made with the Adult Sarada before she went rogue. He had to go back to the other Sarada, his Sarada, to beseech for her help because he admits he fucked up, just to find her finished time travel scroll-work protecting his timeline on the ground and her missing.

He's been trying to locate her ever since.

But two of the three scrolls 16-year-old Sarada left behind were used to return to the corrupted timeline—the current one he's in—that Adult Sarada was in to make it be that the timetable had no changes whatsoever, thus disappearing many of the eccentricities caused by the invader's hand. His Sarada had thought of it last minute, claiming it was better to be safe than sorry, just in case the time became wonky and they needed a safe reset.

However, he hadn't known his young mentor had already activated the scroll.

A fool's gamble and he lost.

"Maybe Aunt Sakura can stop them," Boruto continues before they can speak, making them silent. He ponders, remembering all the Sakura's untouched by the woman's fury. Some almost succeeded in convincing the woman not to kill their husband. "That's the best chance we've got. I can't relocate you guys to my dimension; for one, it's too dangerous. Secondly, because the scroll is attached to them," He thumbs to the youngest Uchiha and Haruno, "I can't take them away without risking their lives. The stupid scrolls are attached to their souls in this dimension, so ripping them out of it is like killing them. Also, third, keep in mind seals are barely useful when battling them."

His mentor narrows his eyes. "Why can Sakura stop them but not I?"

Boruto withholds a comment about his mentor's ego. "Well. Sarada only listens to Aunt Sakura."

The room suddenly fills with killing intent.

The parents look stricken, Kakashi bewildered, and the teenagers confused. One of the kids is unconscious and the other is looking between them, trying to figure stuff out.

"Who's Sarada?" The Uchiha Genin inquires, seeing as nobody is speaking up.

Boruto chuffs his shoe. "Your daughter, of course."

The force of the bottom of his sandal against the polished wood of the apartment makes a rancid skidding noise. "Daughter?" The teenage Sakura and Child Sasuke let out incredulously.

The teenage Uchiha holds his head.

Boruto winces. "Yeah. So. I'm going to explain why everyone is all..." He gestures to them half-heartedly, "Here."

"Please do," His mentor hisses, and the people in the room tense in accordance.

Boruto swallows. "Right. So this all started because of a bastard named Code. He's been messing around—before you ask, Code is the last and only member of the Kara organization and the failed vessel of Isshiki Otsutsuki, who was supposed to eat a fruit after Kaguya the Rabbit Goddess got absorbed and—whatever, datteba'sa! You get the gist. Anyway, Code's been messing with ancient Uzumaki seals uncovered from the rubble of the fallen Uzushiogakure for power because K..." Boruto makes a frustrated sound, "Kawaki, has been kicking his sorry ass to hell. He's so lame, I swear."

He takes a deep breath and continues. "Because he's been putting his grubby hands where they don't belong, Code triggered something back where the Uchiha of the past resided before Konoha was formed. A place he found with the help of an old Uzumaki map. And no," He pointedly glares at Kakashi, "I don't know where that is, datteba'sa. I've just heard it from his sorry mouth after I beat him up. Apparently, there were some clues of completion between a rogue Uzumaki working with the Uchiha in secret which led him to the old camping grounds. He opened a portal after the discovery, and then fucked up and got sliced a bunch because it was a portal to an alternate dimension."

"...I'm assuming Sarada is the one who came out of the portal?" Aunt Sakura inquires softly, which prompts Boruto to sag.

"...Yeah. She... She recognized me so I wasn't left for dead, which was good, I guess... But she's... She's different, Aunt Sakura," Boruto says, scratching the back of his neck in agitation. "She's the entire reason why we're in this mess. I worked with her for a bit because I needed help dealing with... things better left unsaid. Irrelevant, with this," He brushes off the concerned glances made his way.

"And so... She turned on me. Said to draw up some seals for her to use, which became a big project that lasted a few months. I learned how she came to be here and the deal she made with the people of this dimension using her eyes...? I don't know. Sharingan stuff hurts my head, datteba'sa."

"None of this makes sense," Teenage Sakura whispers, furrowing her brows. The subtle curl downward of the Teenage Uchiha's lips indicates he thinks the same.

Boruto pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. I know. Sorry, okay, wait, datteba'sa. I'm rambling. To sum it up with one sentence: Older Sarada is an immortal with a Rinnegan who possesses the power to travel through dimensions and time and wants to kill you, Mr. Sasuke, who is also responsible for bringing you all here. I don't know why."

Boruto's not ready to witness both parents' devastated look at the news. Aunt Sakura comes forward, eyes beseeching, "And you're sure it's her? Our little girl?" One hand presses against her chest, clinging to it in desperation.

Boruto nods, melancholic.

Aunt Sakura looks back at his teacher. A silent conversation passes between them.

Adult Sasuke's expression slackens. "No, Sakura."

"I'm going," Aunt Sakura snaps.

Kakashi awkwardly shuffles away to stand next to the Genin Sasuke while the two teenagers back away from the wave of killing intent that the adult Sakura begins to emit. Adult Sasuke looks like he stepped in shit.

"Boruto just said I can stop her," Aunt Sakura rasps and Boruto gnashes his molars together, pained at hearing the ache in her voice. "If she's—Maybe I can convince her not to."

Before his mentor can speak, Boruto juts in with his experience regarding that poor resolution he's seen fail many times. "Keyword: Maybe, Aunt Sakura."

Everyone looks at him.

Boruto tries to hide his pained expression at the ticking horror she can barely repress. Aunt Sakura is prone to wearing her heart on her sleeve. A lot like her daughter, he's seen. "I've... seen many other versions of you try that. It... It didn't stop her," He trails off quietly.

Aunt Sakura's fists clench. "That's them. I can..."

"Look, I'm not saying it's impossible," Boruto swallows, "But just... be warned that she's not going to stop with a heartfelt speech."

"Has she killed Sakura before?" The Teenage Uchiha inquires, eyes narrowed. If Boruto isn't mistaken, he thinks he can see bullets of sweat gathering around his neck. Weird.

His sudden inquiry renders Boruto stumped for a few seconds, squinting his eyes unintentionally because he's thinking so damn hard about it. "No," He concludes. "As far as I'm aware, anyway. She's the only one she's left untouched."

"Then the best course of action is for the Sakuras to intercept... her," The 17-year-old Sasuke glances at the 17-year-old Sakura.

Teenage Sakura stiffens.

"Except little Sakura is indisposed at the moment," Kakashi drawls.

"It could work," Boruto lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat following his statement, running a hand through his golden locks and ignoring Kakashi. "Maybe manipulate her using a pity party? But the Sasuke's need to hide. Especially you," Boruto levels his gaze to the 17-year-old.

The teenage boy looks vaguely uncomfortable.

"Why?" Teen Sakura asks meekly.

"Yeah, why?" Genin Sasuke juts in, jaw clenching and arms crossed.

"I don't know why, but she hates him the most. I've counted more bodies around that age than yours, sensei," Boruto admits. His sensei's lips straighten in a grim line.

Teenage Sasuke clicks his tongue.

"The world must be ending if Naruto's child is addressing you as his sensei, Sasuke-chan," Kakashi hums, though he looks noticeably pale.

Boruto pouts. "Why's that so crazy? Just cuz he's dad's rival it doesn't mean I can't admire him, datteba'sa."

"So, what, we're using Sakura's body as a distraction?" Genin Sasuke demands, side-eyeing the girl resembling a corpse just a few feet away. "What if the plan doesn't follow through and she dies?" His tiny fists ball into protective fury.

Boruto's expression harshens. "I'll stop her before that happens."

"How?" Aunt Sakura steps closer, looking immensely saddened. "You said it yourself: she's strong. And forgive me, Boruto, but if you've failed to stop her before—"

"Failing to capture her is different than fighting her," Boruto shrugs. "I know I won't win, but I can hold her off long enough for all of you to escape. It's Mr. Sasuke she wants, after all."

The three adults in the room look at each other, doubtful.

Boruto huffs at their lack of trust. "Just... trust me, okay? I know it's hard to believe but if we want a chance, this is all we've got."

"And what of an alternative strategy?" Adult Sasuke wisely inputs, still frazzled about the news and the method of handling it.

"Not to mention we have yet to figure out where we're escaping to," Kakashi points out.

Boruto lands his gaze on the tiny Sasuke. "Well. We've got you. I think this timeline is special considering she didn't immediately kill you," He smiles sheepishly at the young Uchiha's visible distress. "So... maybe tricking her into thinking we'll kill you might work?"

"That's stupid," Teenage Sakura blurts.

The entire room swerves on her.

She flushes red, but her expression is severe. "Why not try to seal her away again with a new one? That's what you implied earlier right? About seals not working?"

Boruto rubs his chin, wondering if the scroll activated on the teenage Sakura rather than the little girl. "The problem with that is three things: one, it takes up too much time. I need a month to make another. Two, she can just break it apart again. She's the one who created all these intricate seals. And, three, we need to incapacitate her long enough to seal her off. Which just lands us in square one," Boruto explains.

Teenage Sakura opens her mouth, but Boruto speaks before she can, sensing the weird energy of the object in Aunt Sakura's pocket. "Question... Do you have your scroll on you?" He examines the space between them, honing in on the buzzing energy that his hands are itching to grab hold of.

The Adult Sakura nods and is quick to hand it over.

Boruto reads over it.

He blinks stupidly. "You're kidding me." His smile abruptly becomes brilliant.

"What?" Little Sasuke demands.

The others lean forward, curious.

Boruto lets out a large sigh of relief. "Thank Sage! She's—sorry," Boruto gives her back the scroll, "I think we may have found our alternate solution!" He cheers, pumping his fist in the air. He even lets out a happy laugh. He thought—well, it doesn't matter what he thought. Sarada—His Sarada—is alive!

"What is it?" Adult Sasuke asks.

"Sarada, of course!" Boruto exclaims and he's not surprised that it confounds them.

"Huh?"

"Not the Sarada trying to kill you," Boruto feeds into their confusion, watching with delight as Aunt Sakura is the first to get it.

She gasps. "Is... Do you mean our—"

"From my time," Boruto corrects and then suddenly stiffens. "That must mean... she's here... and she's..." The blonde's expression contorts into horror. Shit. There's no way she...

"What? What is it?" Aunt Sakura grabs his hand gently, swallowing down her panic.

"Um. Mr. Sasuke... Aunt Sakura..." Boruto looks imploringly at them, "How mad would you be if I told you that my Sarada's probably already on her way to fight the other Sarada?"

They don't even have the chance to react to his statement because of what arrives next.

"Sasuke! Sakura!"

The entire room whips their head to the gaping window, finding a panting 12-year-old Naruto holding... is that an older Naruto?

Boruto blanches. What the fuck?

"I found you!" Naruto makes a grunt and then jumps off the window sill, falling to his knees when the weight on his back becomes too much. "Look what I found! An older me!" The scroll bound to his hip rattles enough to fall over and roll to Boruto's feet.

The room descends into chaos.

[. . .]

Itachi holds his head in deep distress.

Sasuke's Shadow Clone is seated next to him, waiting patiently for his brother's response, which Itachi cannot give at the moment.

Not for lack of trying. Itachi is simply... adjusting to what he's just been told and revealed so suddenly, news that has completely changed the entirety of his suicide plan. For better or for worse, Itachi can't fathom living more than what he initially thought of, but it's not his plans going askew that have caught him off-guard. He's more floored at the news that the tall man in a cloak beside him is his precious little brother.

At first, he didn't want to believe it.

An older version of his little brother could not manifest himself. It requires Jutsus unheard of, rumors of old legends that have never been brought to light in the possessive Uchiha. However, Itachi understands that creating such an outlandish story needs serious creativity which his brother lacks. His brother hates him. Why would he make up an elaborate situation so out of physical proportion? So absurd?

Itachi had to listen.

So he decided not to kill the 'imposter' for attempting to trick him, slowly inching into a dreadful emotion when he opened up on the bargaining of a problem so severe that Itachi had to do a double-take in order to understand. The more the clone spoke with Itachi's granted mercy because of the name 'Sasuke', the more Itachi found that everything he was saying was connecting a little too well.

In the end, Itachi had to sit down. Otherwise, he would've fainted because of the sudden influx of blood rushing to his head at the discovery that his little brother was behind all this, dying bit by bit because the scroll was sucking his life force away. For revenge.

All because of me.

"I can see you need time," The Shadow Clone rumbles patiently, idly seated on a spare log he'd cut not too long ago for both of them to sit on. One that Itachi took the invitation to because he figured this wasn't something he couldn't just walk away from.

Itachi numbly studies the white pallor of his calloused hands. "You..." He trails off, expression barely twisted in bewilderment, trying to say something so that the clone doesn't disperse before he can get a word in. "And... And you're certain no one else can help you?" What a dumb, stupid, question. As if Itachi won't do all that he can to help his brother. As if he hasn't been doing everything for his brother, for a life better lived without him.

He stares at the grass, at the row of ants slaving their lives away, unaware of his grandiose, sentimental, issues.

"I'm certain," Sasuke says with full confidence. Trust, even, can be traced in his tone.

It makes Itachi feel sick. Sicker still, with just a touch of tragedy.

Itachi feels his lungs suffocate on emotion when mustering the strength to look up at the boy-turned-man. The Rogue Uchiha can't help but cover up the wheezing cough that comes out of him at the sight. The familiar proportions of his little brother's face are there, just with the lack of baby fat and a more angular shaping of his head. The eyes are what's giving him severe whiplash though—a legendary Rinnegan, first and foremost, and an eye he knows damn well belongs to him.

"Those are my eyes, aren't they?" Itachi mumbles, taking them in from the skull of another. He carefully masks his mourning victory, automatic when it comes to facing his brother.

His brother's neutral expression titters just for a second. Sad. "...Yes."

Itachi has no idea how to feel. Bittersweet, maybe. Because the physical manifestation of his regret and sorrow is sitting right next to him. Because his brother has grown just fine without him, just as Itachi hoped.

Itachi takes a deep breath that breaks apart with a cough. His brother seems to stiffen at the sound, and Itachi has no grace to reassure him as instinct wants to. They both know how it all ends. "I will help," Itachi vows, clearing his throat and swallowing the blood back down. Bitter, tangy, remorse gets stuck in his throat.

Sasuke tilts his head, gauging him. "I haven't even told you what I need help for."

"Deciphering the scroll, I assume?" Itachi lifts the mentioned item from the mystery of his inner cloak. His eyebrow twitches from the lack of emotion on his face he's trying to keep at bay. A bad habit, he supposes, when it comes to being around Sasuke.

Sasuke hums, short and low. Knowing, almost. Forlorn, maybe. "You need to be looked at by my wife." He sounds calm, though there's an underlining edge of finality to his tone.

Itachi stares at him blankly, processing his words. "...The little pink-haired girl?" Although he doesn't let it show (more so he can't, being used to hiding his face for so long), Itachi feels an immense elation burst inside his chest. He always believed his brother had a chance with the little Sakura girl. Quite out of his league Itachi thinks, but a balance for Sasuke's moody demeanor. He hopes his brother didn't give the girl a hard time.

And then his words really process.

"...I do not need to be looked at."

"You're dying," Sasuke bluntly declares.

For a moment, Itachi is surprised. But then that surprise dies down into shame because this brother has known for years that he died not because he had been stronger, but because Itachi was living on his last legs.

Itachi's second response comes naturally; an apathetic disregard for his well-being, thinking 'so?' But he might as well have said it out loud because his little? older? little brother narrows his eyes at him in disapproval.

"You're getting looked at."

There is no room for argument.

Itachi looks away.

The Clone doesn't take the scroll back so Itachi puts it away. "Don't antagonize little me when we get there."

Itachi bristles at the random but needed statement.

The Clone continues, "Things won't end the same. You and I both know this."

Itachi doesn't like that. He had everything planned at the start for a reason, and this reason was to protect Konoha and his little brother—

"The suicide plan you're following to pay for your transgressions against the Clan is ridiculous."

Itachi can't help but snap his head in his direction and narrow his eyes in offense. It's not just because of that. There's more. Sasuke knows there's more to what he is trying to achieve—Itachi has to do this. He must if his desire to keep Sasuke safe prospers.

Liar.

Sasuke looks unimpressed. "I mourned you. So has my teenage self. The child version of me won't go through the same thing. Not when you're alive to change everything," He declares in profound melancholy, gesturing to him in his entirety.

Itachi says nothing.

He doesn't think his little brother is baiting him. But if he is, he's doing a damn fine job of it.

Itachi doesn't think being around his little brother will help. But he's dying, according to this clone of his older self, and Itachi will stop at nothing to keep his brother from an early death. Nothing in the world will matter if his brother is gone. So as much as it pains him to admit it, Itachi is going to have to accompany this clone and reverse all the progress he's made to get to where he wants to be.

"I know you're upset," Sasuke says bluntly.

Itachi neither confirms nor denies—he simply fixes up any slip-ups on his face.

"You are allowed to feel upset. You're still just a teenager."

Itachi opens his mouth to refute that statement—

Sasuke holds a hand up. "Let me finish."

Itachi purses his lips.

"I'm going to tell you the damn truth. Your plan doesn't work. Konoha and younger me get into worse danger than before, and you're left as a martyr. I know you love and care for me, but doing so using psychic torture methods and forcing a young boy to lead a path of darkness to kill the one person he has left in a massacred genocide had and is the worst possible way you have shown it."

Itachi swallows. His heart raises an uncomfortable pressure on his chest.

Sasuke looks unaffected. "And I'm not going to blame you for it. I have, for a long time even after your death, but you were just a child when you had to make these decisions. You were forced into a position that could've gone differently had our father not been pushed by means of the Hokage's lack of good leadership and Danzo's shit, who wasn't doing anything against the oppression of our people. They put you into a situation that pushed you to choose between family and peace."

Itachi's eyes burn, but he refuses. "...There was nothing else I could have done," He attempts to say in a steady voice, but the end of it cracks.

Sasuke's expression softens. "No, there might not have been. Our father's decisions were bound to enforce themselves anyway. It was not his fault, either. Despite letting his emotions take full course when deciding on a coup d'etat, he was simply protecting the Clan the only way he knew how. His failing grace, however, was keeping his sons in mind. Primarily, you."

"Enough of this," Itachi huffs, clenching his fists, and Sasuke goes quiet. He's heard enough. If he hears any more, he might break apart at the seams barely holding his battered body together. "I don't need a repeat of past events I already torture myself with. You already have my help."

Sasuke nods, though he looks like he's waiting on a specific admission.

Itachi allows it to fall from his mouth. "I will... I will follow the means you want me to fall under without discourse," The 17-year-old manages through a numb tongue, though he looks sick. "But make no mistake, should events allow me to further my plan, I will take it."

"Knowing that all that you mean to achieve will fall through?" Sasuke raises a cruel eyebrow, but Itachi knows that he doesn't mean to be.

For a moment, Itachi doubts.

There is a lot to unpack that he doesn't want to, and the Shadow Clone of his Future Brother is tearing apart the bags of grief he's kept over his heart. His plan at the start was to keep the peace and keep his brother in safety. It remains that way, and it will be at the hands of his brother who will rise and defeat him, making him a hero to Konoha.

Hoping, for a partial benefit, to let the Uchiha name not die in vain.

A better future requires sacrifices that Itachi has willingly made so that his brother will get to live on without the deceit, hate, and misconduct by officials seeking to stab his back despite the agreement kept secret. It is all to see Sasuke prosper, as he's just seen in the manifestation of a Shadow Clone.

Sasuke is alive. He's even talking him out of a problem, and it's such a happy sight to see even though Itachi doesn't like that it's being directed at him. How can Itachi not go on to do what he must when he sees the living embodiment of what he hopes to achieve? His brother has a wife. He might even have children. He's there, alive, and perhaps well, and what more can Itachi ask for?

But the poison of the truth has already sunk through. Itachi doubts because though he may see the potential of the future version of his little brother, the grief weighing in Sasuke's eyes—in his eyes—reminds him that his work came at the cost of his little brother's mental fare.

Itachi isn't a fool. Healing takes years. Perhaps even a lifetime.

It's already too late. He has already subjected his brother to the Tsukuyomi.

But the Clone claims there's a chance he can prevent more pieces of tragedy from falling.

There's a chance that Itachi can see Sasuke again.

And fix what's left.

Sasuke sighs and Itachi blinks out of his tumultuous thoughts. "Read the note my teenage self sent you. Maybe the contents in the letter will convince you," He drones and Itachi reaches inside the pocket of his cloak to retrieve the folded paper he hadn't gotten to read. It's cold, and Itachi nearly drops it, but he manages to bring it out of the unzipped hole he keeps to relieve some of the body pain.

With a shaky breath, his quivering fingers peel it open.

And reads.

[. . .]

Boruto grabs his head in anguish. "I told you not to activate it!"

"Then why'd you gimme it, huh, datteba'yo!?" Naruto yells, standing protectively beside the draped body of his older self that the two Sakura's are quick to begin nursing back to health. "You didn't give me a choice!"

"I did, datteba'sa!"

"So I chose it, asshole! And why do you look like me, huh!? Copycat!"

"Ugh," Boruto holds his forehead, evidently grieved at the situation out of his control. Somehow, the loud whisker-faced blonde of 12 years managed to figure out the poor Iruka cosplay he had on was him, and now Boruto is dealing with his young father's wrath when Boruto specifically informed him not to do anything with the scroll until the time was ready.

Though Boruto doesn't know what else he should've expected. It was a bad idea in the first place to give the responsibility of time to a dumb 12-year-old.

Boruto sighs heavily. "Fine. It's my fault."

"Yes," His mentor says, sounding dismal and berating enough to make Boruto lower his shoulders in shame, "It is. The circumstances on how Sakura and I came to be here are excused from the strategized decisions of my killer daughter, but Naruto's existence of his older selves falls onto you for manifesting them here. You expect to trust Naruto not to get curious enough to cause unnecessary problems?"

Naruto sticks his tongue out at him, making Boruto's eye twitch in vexation before the boy stops short and glares at the adult. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean, datteba'yo!?"

"It means you can't keep your dumb hands to yourself, moron," Little Sasuke snarks.

"I so can!" Naruto pouts, looking at the Adult Sasuke in betrayal. "I'll show you, Uncle Sasu! I swear!"

Boruto gapes. "You call sensei Uncle?"

"What of it?" Naruto sniffs. Little Sasuke makes a face of utter repulsion.

Boruto scratches his nose. "Nothin'. It's just funny. I call him Uncle too. He absolutely hates it." He smirks at his mentor and the man stares back at him with the driest expression on the planet. It's a face Boruto's seen so many times that the welcome sight of it gives him a slight whip-lash, unintentionally creating the image of a mentor with a missing eye and more wrinkles.

Boruto's smile wanes in slight melancholy. As much as it's nice to see his sensei again, it's not his sensei. Not truly. His mentor is gone, trapped in a tree, and used as a fighter Boruto had to combat with a heavy heart more than once. The hardest part was watching Sarada have to do it too, and the heartache on her face when she realized just what had become of her father.

"Boruto?"

With a wistful blink, the imagined image of him is gone.

The 16-year-old blonde looks over at a concerned Aunt Sakura. Her hands glow green where she touches the teenage version of his father's forehead. It's an eerie sight to see. "What's wrong, honey? You look so sad." Teenage Sakura stops her hovering over his teenage father's chest to look at him too.

The others in the room take careful notice of this, and even little Naruto visibly dampens when it's made clear. He still has a stank face directed at him though, which Boruto thinks is because of how hard he's scrutinizing his appearance.

"Those eyes of yours are scary, Aunt Sakura," Boruto deflects with an awkward laugh.

"I know. What's wrong?" She repeats, frowning.

Boruto shrugs. There's no escape from her. "Just. Memories, I guess. It's nice to see Mr. Sasuke and Dad again," He looks at each of them meaningfully. His sensei gives him a weird look and Naruto squawks.

"Dad?" Naruto turns around with his fists up, looking for him. "Where!? So I can beat him first for letting his dumb son not give good instructions!"

Boruto and Adult Sasuke face-palm at the irony of the statement. The teenage Uchiha seems at his wit's end.

"Look in the mirror, perhaps," Kakashi pipes in gleefully, reading through his orange book on the couch without a care in the damn world. Boruto has half a mind to jab a kunai into it.

"You're an idiot," Genin Sasuke deadpans.

"Huh!?" Naruto whips around to clock the little Sasuke in the face, which the boy dodges with a warning hiss. "What do you mean by that, Kaka-sensei?" Naruto demands and Boruto realizes his young father hadn't even meant almost to hit his young mentor in the face.

Boruto rolls his eyes. "It means I'm your son, old man. Get with the program."

"Son!?" Naruto screeches, grabbing his hair. "Is that why you look as devilishly handsome as I do!?"

"Ugly, more like," Little Sasuke grumps, "Only your dumbass wouldn't notice, dead last." He gives Boruto a dirty look.

"Shut up!" Naruto sneers.

Boruto doesn't like the insinuation of his Genin Mentor, but he does not comment. It'll make the stupid banter worse.

Teenage Sakura, unfortunately, brings back the previous conversation Boruto hoped he evaded. "Does something happen to them?" Her question is earnest, and it makes Boruto feel bad for getting annoyed at her probing.

"A lot does," Boruto vaguely agrees. "But it's better you guys don't know. It's separate from what we're dealing with right now." He lifts the scroll he gave Naruto, grim. "Any minute now, if I'm right, my old man is gonna come out, datteba'sa."

Naruto's still having a crisis. The Genin Uchiha gives him a skeptical glance. "You're saying..." He side-eyes the teenage Naruto whom he's been ogling nearly more than the Teenage Sakura, "That there's going to be three of him?" He looks extremely put upon.

Aunt Sakura waves him off. "Oh, don't worry. Our Naruto isn't so much of a hassle to deal with."

"Hey!" Naruto somehow catches Aunt Sakura's comment.

She smiles sheepishly before dropping it for a ruminative look. "That can't be good, though. In his absence, who'll run Konoha?"

"Kakashi will have to get up off his lazy ass and do it," Adult Sasuke gruffs. He looks distinctly like he's had enough of the situation.

"Woah there, sensei. Watch your language!" Boruto teases lightly just to make it worse because he's a little shithead, and he's rewarded with a glare. "Nah but in all seriousness, as soon as my old man gets in here we gotta move, ASAP. The longer we linger, the closer She gets."

Naruto scratches his head. "Man. Who?" He's looking at Boruto in accusing wonder, and who is Boruto to neglect some idolization?

"Your greatest admirer," Boruto drawls.

The boy brightens. "Really? Oh, oh, wait! If you're my son, does that mean I marry Sakura-chan?" He has stars in his eyes, jumping up and down in place.

"Blockhead!" Little Sasuke smacks the back of his head, "You literally marry someone else! Besides, does he even look anything remotely like Sakura to you!?"

Boruto hides his irritation at the wrong insinuation with a smirk. "Jealous 'cuz she's your girl, huh mini-sensei?"

Little Sasuke turns an angry blotch of red. Kakashi snickers.

Boruto lightly elbows the teenage Uchiha next to him to get him to join in on the fun, who dodges like the paranoid weirdo he is. Boruto takes it in stride. "What do you make of that comment, Medium-sized Sensei? I heard that you were so madly in love with Aunt Sakura when you guys reunited as teenagers that you wanted to kiss her at first sight!" He smiles wide, gleefully watching the adolescent's complexion pale.

From where the two Sakura's are, he hears a choke.

"Boruto, stop teasing them," Aunt Sakura chides without looking in his direction. His teenage dad stirs slightly but doesn't wake.

Boruto puts his hands up. "Hey, look, I'm just saying. I'm never gonna have this chance again."

"Not if we kill you," Genin Sasuke sneers.

"No, Sasuke," Aunt Sakura scolds, and the little Uchiha gawks in offense.

Before Boruto can laugh at his mentor's expense, on cue, the scroll in his hands begins to burn. He hisses and drops the shaking thing to the floor, prompting the room to tense at the sudden action. Little Naruto kicks it away to give it space (from experience, Boruto concludes) and everyone watches with bated breath as the scroll slowly begins to rise and glow an odd red from how hot it becomes.

"Here we go," Boruto whispers.

Everyone covers their eyes when it illuminates into scorching levels before dying down just as quickly. A clang. A thump.

In the silence, a groan follows.

"Ugh," The unmistakable voice of his dad groans, and Boruto stops blocking his vision with a racing heart to take in his father who he hasn't seen for nearly four years. "My head..."

The 32-year-old Uchiha is the first to push him away and approach the fallen Hokage. Next to his head he stands, looking at the squinting man in deadpan. "Get up."

"...Sasuke?" His father rasps, taking a second, before shooting up into a sitting position in alarm. "Sasuke! You're alive! Where—what—" The 32-year-old Hokage hastily stands and looks around, "You..." He trails off, dumbfounded, taking in the sight of the many people beginning to cramp Kakashi's apartment.

"...Oh."

It takes several minutes of gawking silence (and a wave from Aunt Sakura) until his eyes land on Boruto and widen.

"Oh."

Boruto smiles ruefully.

"Yeah. Oh. Hey, old man. You ready for a mindfuck?"

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"Am I not so profound?"

[. . .]

Chapter 9

Pockets Full of Suns

[. . .]

It takes everything Boruto has to fight the urge to leap into his father's arms and wrap him in the biggest, most heartfelt hug.

The 32-year-old Hokage stands on shuffling legs, holding his head while surveying the curious crowd with a furrowed brow. His brilliant blue eyes, so full of life that Boruto hasn't seen in years, are wide, taking in each individual with the grace of a bewildered fox. His measured and slow scrutinization halts at the end of the line, gaze locked on Boruto intently and yet soft, coated with the love of a parent Boruto had been too profoundly grieved by in his youth—when he thought he would never get the attention he so needed as a son to a father made of trophies.

The Seventh Hokage blinks and parts his lips, "Boruto?"

Boruto nods and tries not to notice that he's addressed first out of everyone. "'Sup?" Idiot, he mentally admonishes at his horrid greeting, though it's not any better than his previous comment.

His father opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it firmly. The room is silent, waiting for the man to do anything else, though it's not much. Boruto stifles a laugh as he observes his father directing a puzzled look towards his mentor.

Adult Sasuke doesn't even blink. "You're in the past."

His father then promptly reels slightly back in astonishment, stays in shocking silence for a few seconds while his face goes through the five stages of grief, before he deflates, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're joking."

Boruto can't find it in himself to be surprised by his father's unenthused reaction. Something tells him that maybe he's dealt with being in the past before, or worse. At this point, his father has gone through so much shit that Boruto feels so stupid for being a brat for so long over him not coming home.

Now he's not coming home at all.

He dismisses the thought.

"No," Kakashi replies, distinctly humorous. But Boruto can see, as clear as day, the relief radiating off in waves from the man. Had he thought his precious student wouldn't make it into adulthood?

That's insulting, Boruto thinks, but I get it.

His father wasn't exactly a bright kid.

Isn't, he mentally corrects, side-eyeing the gaping Child Naruto who's been stunned into silence.

With an aggrieved sigh, his father speaks. "Why are our younger counterparts and an older version of my kid all in the same room?" Adult Naruto asks, running a hand down his face that appears to add a weight of thirty years to him. His pathetic look promptly vanishes a second later when he straightens and swerves on the blank-faced Uchiha beside him indignantly. "And you! Where the hell have you been, datteba'yo!?"

"I think it's obvious," Kakashi chirps.

"If you let us explain, we'll tell you," Aunt Sakura huffs, though she looks a bit shaken herself. Probably because the news from earlier hasn't drifted off her mind yet, considering.

His father scowls before making a face of concern at his unconscious teenage self. "He's in here too?" He murmurs, but it's loud enough for the entire room to hear.

It's then that the hidden teenage counterparts—more so the teenage Uchiha, since the teenage Haruno merely shuffles and peeks around her Adult doppelganger for a shocked peek—reveal themselves.

His father stares at the Teenage Uchiha in another sprout of shock, shifting from him to the Teenage Haruno in disbelief. Both teenagers look away awkwardly.

Boruto can't resist the urge to talk. "...You're taking this well," he observes.

His father turns to look at him, and Boruto bears the attention with a weepy dedication. His father's face glows, both disbelieving and tired, and Boruto feels himself wilt. He wonders if his younger self is still giving his old man the cold shoulder. "I'm really not. I'm just tired—I had to deal with a bunch of panic summons from the hospital and—since. Ya know. Sakura went missing too," His father adds, exhausted. He marvels at Boruto nonetheless. He can't hide that. "So. Please. By all means," He gestures to all of them exaggeratively, "Can you please explain what the hell is going on, datteba'yo?"

Boruto speaks before anyone else can. "Three scrolls summoned your teenage selves and your current selves, activated by the past 12-year-old versions of Team 7."

His father looks tired. "Scrolls!? I thought I got rid of all of those!" He exclaims, sagging in profound frustration. Boruto stiffens in confusion. The youngest Uchiha can't stop staring at the oldest Naruto, as if frozen. The Teenage Uchiha is in much the same state, harboring eyes that Boruto dares to think shine with something vulnerable. "Why is something happening every other week, datteba'yo!?"

The adult Uchiha opens his mouth, likely to ask what exactly he means by that, but he's cast aside by Boruto's instinctual comment.

"Because you're Hokage," Boruto blurts in deadpan without any thought.

The sharp gaze of his mentor snaps to him, and Boruto hunches his shoulders, suddenly realizing what he's just said. The teenage Haruno gasps as the teenage Uchiha discreetly inhales sharply, turning his face away to hide the uncertainty reflected on the window. Boruto doesn't tell him he can see. The youngest Uchiha is close to gaping in offended disbelief.

"Hold on..." 12-year-old Naruto trails off, sparkles in his eyes. Boruto nearly forgot about him. He's suddenly found his voice, and it's strangled, inching closer to his adult counterpart in hideous hope. "Did you say—!?"

"You, shut up! You've made enough trouble," Boruto slips, and Naruto squawks at him for his audacity. "Dad," Boruto faces his father and steps closer, cloak swishing against the tweaking baby Naruto, who is frothing at the mouth in anger or something, he doesn't know. He briefly glances his way to check if he's properly alive and not undergoing a seizure at the news.

When he finds he's doing just fine (because Aunt Sakura shakes her head in exasperated fondness while the youngest Uchiha drags Naruto towards her for a checkup), Boruto looks to his father again. "I'm sorry that you don't get the time to adjust to what's going on, but now that you're here, we need your help," He tells him seriously.

The room goes quiet.

Boruto's noticing he's taken a lot of center stage lately. If he'd been his younger self, he'd be worse than a peacock.

His father's exhaustion melts away into slight alarm, slight determination. He steps forward tentatively as the chakra signature of his teenage self sparks to life. Boruto fights himself not to look. "Son?" He asks, searching his eyes with an intensity he hasn't seen in so long.

Boruto feels like he's about to trip on his words.

He breathes in, very tired.

He tries not to notice the way the youngest Uchiha keeps the youngest Naruto's mouth shut with his hands.

"An older version of Sarada is out to get Uncle Sasuke," Boruto states grimly. His father blinks in incredulity.

"And we need your help to hold her off, in case all else fails."

[. . .]

"So let me get this straight," Seventh Hokage Uzumaki Naruto rubs his wrinkled temple in agitation, seated on the couch and leaning forward, surrounded by both teenagers, children, and adults. Except for one slumbering Haruno and a groggy, displaced somewhat coherent teenage Uzumaki situated against the wall closest to the kitchen, clutching a steaming mug of green tea. "You made scrolls."

"Yep," Boruto pops the 'p'.

"You engaged with an unknown, otherwise somehow known as an older version of Sarada."

"Also, yes."

"And now this Sarada is pursuing us because of what, datteba'yo, a mistake? A," Adult Naruto fumbles with his hands in distress, "A goal that we don't know about?"

Boruto waves his hand in a so-so motion. "Kinda, yeah."

Naruto looks so done. "Boruto. Why."

Boruto scowls at him, unable to help the twinge of hurt in his chest. "My world is in trouble, okay? I did my damn best on taking care of the problem, but ultimately I couldn't do it all on my own. It was a last resort, and she offered, and—and—she's Sarada." He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes in defeat. "She's Sarada. How was I supposed to know she'd turn on me like that?"

At that, his father deflates. "...Of course, I'm sorry. You're right. In..." He bites the inside of his lip, thinking. "Is there any chance the issue is preventable in your time, so that, I dunno, we never end up here in the first place?" He asks, searching his eyes. He even looks at his mentor and Aunt Sakura, who both shake their head, also in the dark about Boruto's time.

Boruto shakes his head. "No. Unfortunately, the things that happened during my time can't be altered. It'll happen either way, regardless if we mess around with time. Right now, what I want to focus on is getting the Uchiha to safety. There's no telling what Sarada is planning. I know she'll kill one of them right away, but as for her plans with him..." Boruto glances down next to him, to the sweating, glaring 12-year-old Uchiha, "I have no clue."

"What do you mean by kill?" His father startles.

Boruto makes a face, glancing at the teenage Uchiha smushed between Kakashi and a quiet baby Naruto. Boruto thinks it's extremely weird to see such a rare phenomenon. "Sarada doesn't like any version of sensei. But she hates him the most," He gestures with his chin.

The teenager stands perfectly still, but Boruto nonetheless catches the subtle flinch when his father looks his way.

His father rubs his temple. "Okay. Do you have any idea why specifically you?" He asks the teenage Uchiha.

"No," The teen replies calmly.

Boruto crosses his arms. "I have one theory. Just one. But it's a stretch, I think. I don't think it's my business to say."

"Explain," Adult Sasuke demands.

("Full of theories, this one," Kakashi drawls. Aunt Sakura smiles strainedly.)

Okay then. Boruto breathes in. "Well. You weren't exactly a good person throughout your teenage years, no?" He tilts his head, looking into his mentor's eyes with a challenge.

His mentor sags with guilt slightly, but it's nearly unnoticeable. "...No," He agrees.

The child Uchiha frowns. "What? What are you talking about?" He looks sick, suddenly. Fuck. Did his adult self not tell him?

Adult Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke exchange looks.

Boruto shakes his head. They really don't have time for this. They need to move, now. "Not right now, Sasuke-chan. I promise I'll answer all your questions, but for now, to be honest, we kind of need to go," He reminds, wincing at the flummox of chakra heading their way. It's still quite far, but Boruto's unsure if it's far enough. He knows Adult Sarada stopped by Orochimaru's, considering her chakra nature lingered there, but... for what, he's not sure. And then there's the matter of his Sarada, whom he, unfortunately, can't sense.

He's going to have to send in a shadow clone.

"The theory?" Aunt Sakura probes, worried.

Boruto breathes in. "Theory: your marital problems, Aunt Sakura."

The room descends into an awkward mortification. Mostly from the Uchiha couple.

Boruto scowls at them, "I'm not going to elaborate because whatever is going on between the two of you isn't my business. But if I'm being honest, Aunt Sakura, you have a bad case of staying quiet for problems you shouldn't be keeping your mouth shut for, and Uncle Sasuke, you're too easily enraptured in Shinobi Life. And yeah. I get it. I've heard Sarada talk; she gets it, too. And you know what?" Boruto swerves onto the teenage Haruno and teenage Uchiha, "These problems are because the two of you didn't have time to heal properly as teenagers. I'm wondering if this was my Sarada's plan all along."

"Plan?" Adult Sasuke stresses, and Boruto stops himself from snorting at the evident annoyance on his face.

Boruto gives his mentor a sad grin. "Sarada isn't exactly happy, sensei. She was nosy enough to involve herself with me and her future self when making plans for the sake of our timeline not collapsing. Why else do you think Sakura's here? She knows you wouldn't have been enough. Not to stop... herself. So she made that scroll, just to counteract a decision swayed by her older self's sick mind." He turns to the 12-year-old Uchiha, who's very carefully not looking at him.

His mentor stands down, looking distinctly crestfallen. Aunt Sakura looks pale and leaves to check on his teenage father, silent.

In fact...

Boruto glances over everyone's shoulder (seeing as he's the tallest in the room) to check in on the teenage Uzumaki. He'd been in a state of death. Gone. Aunt Sakura had been trying to resuscitate him and succeeded, but now they're stuck with a dead guy walking. At the very least, he has his basic motor functions in check; otherwise? Teenage Naruto has had a haze over his eyes and a nonverbal mouth planted sick.

No one raised any concerns since only the adults were aware of the underlying reason, along with teenage Sakura and Boruto himself.

(About the death that took over when facing Uchiha Madara.)

You know what? He turns to his father. "By any chance, did you die before?"

His father stares at him. "Um, yeah, why?"

Boruto is so tired. "I'll tell you later," He says, because he dreads many things. Such as time being worse than it is, and each teenager in the room aren't from the exact same time.

"You know, I've got an idea of where we can go."

Boruto perks up at the change of subject. So do the others currently listening in.

"What about the Toad Sanctuary?" His father proposes, scratching his chin. "It's still technically in our time, right? Or non-linear or whatever. Therefore, our younger selves shouldn't get ripped to shreds if we do leave."

Boruto blinked. Sage. Has he finally succumbed to his father's hereditary idiocy? Has the old man finally grown a brain? "Wait. That's kind of genius."

The youngest Uchiha side-eyes his father. "A miracle," He mumbles, and his father shoots him a funny look.

Oh, Sage. He's pouting. "I didn't see you thinking about solutions."

"Are you seriously about to fight with a 12-year-old?" Aunt Sakura snaps.

Adult Naruto huffs.

"Okay," Boruto plants a giddy fist against his open palm. "This is good. Fantastic, even, datteba'sa. She'll probably figure out how to get in, but if she never figures out where we are? It's foolproof! All I need to do is go find Sarada, get Uncle Sasuke's ill-prone brother, and—"

"Hold up," His father raises a hand, "Itachi? What for, datteba'yo?"

"Have you not been listening?" Adult Sasuke hisses at him, finally revealing his temper under so much stress. For some reason, the Teenage Uchiha immediately focuses intensely on him.

Boruto points at his father, "We need Mr. Sasuke's brother to break the scroll."

Everyone swerves on him.

Boruto raises an eyebrow. "What? I thought I said that already?"

Adult Sasuke opens his mouth—

"Hmm. Before we depart, I specifically remember a certain someone promising to meet the Hokage in three days." Kakashi chimes from the back.

Teenage Sasuke narrows his eyes at him, "How did you—?"

Adult Naruto brightens. "Ah! Perfect! That means we can discuss with Jiji why we're leaving!" He slams his fist into his open palm, giddy.

Child Naruto perks up, "Jiji?"

His father turns to the small blonde, grinning, "Yeah!" Boruto faintly forgot the little guy was there.

Child Naruto's eyes sparkle, "Hell yeah, datteba'yo! Let's go right now—!"

Child Sasuke looks annoyed, "Wasn't the whole point not to let anyone know about where—"

"No, we're not letting anyone know, including the Hokage. But we'll tell him some part of the situation, because I know politics are ass and should the problem be fixed with everyone's memories in tact, I don't want you, little Sasuke, to deal with the fallout," Boruto juts in, sending an apologetic look toward a grumpy 12-year-old Uchiha.

In the back, Adult Sasuke looks like he's trying to hold in a fart at the prospect of having to willingly talk to the old crab, Teenage Sakura looks warily to her right, and Teenage Sasuke, stationed on her right, is back to gritting his teeth in silence. Meanwhile, the Adult Sakura is fussing over the awakened teenage Uzumaki struggling to lift a glass of water while the 12-year-old Uchiha swipes away Naruto's unsubtle attempt to mess with his hair for interrupting him earlier.

Sadly, Boruto has yet to hear the camotose Haruno's input. He looks forward to her reaction of Sarada.

"Well," The seventh Hokage inhales and claps his hands, "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

The 12-year-old Uzumaki throws himself off the couch, "Finally!"

The youngest Sasuke bonks his head.

[. . .]

16-year-old Uchiha Sarada startles out of her slumber.

Or not so much slumber—more like being violently ejected from something beyond her understanding. Her eyes snap open, and pain blooms instantly behind them, sharp and white-hot. She groans and squints into a sky too blue to feel real, a sun too bright, colors too vivid.

The ground beneath her is hard, cracked earth and unfamiliar terrain. She pushes herself up with trembling elbows, her limbs heavy with the kind of exhaustion that seeps into bone.

Everything aches.

Her head pulses like something's knocking against her skull from the inside. Her vision warps at the edges, spinning for a moment—then she braces her hand against the dirt, grits her teeth, and forces it to stop.

"Where...?" she mutters, voice hoarse.

She looks around. Trees. Open air. Unfamiliar topography. No sign of buildings. No sign of people. No sign of—

"Boruto?!"

Panic shoots through her like lightning. She staggers to her feet too quickly, and the world tilts. She holds her balance by instinct alone, sharingan flashing to life without meaning to. Her eyes burn again, harder this time, and she shuts them tight, wincing.

Too much chakra. Too soon. She deactivates it with a strained breath.

Think, Sarada. Think.

The last thing she remembers—the very last thing—is the mission. The enemy. The whirl of chakra. And then that portal. A swirling distortion of space-time that split the battlefield in half. Boruto had yelled something. She'd reached for him.

Did he fall through first? Did he make it here? Is he okay?

She clenches her fists. Her gloves are scuffed, her clothes torn at the knees. Scratches lace her arms where she must've skidded across the terrain. Her forehead protector hangs loosely around her neck, cracked just slightly at the corner.

Her heart is beating too fast. Not just from adrenaline. From fear. From not knowing.

"Okay," she says aloud, steadying her voice with effort. "This isn't home."

It's warmer. Quieter. Too quiet. No buzz of modern life, no tech, no distant hum of the city. Just wind, and trees, and silence.

Is this the past?

She breathes in sharply, the thought crystallizing as her eyes sweep over the land again. It's not a battlefield, but she knows chakra residue when she feels it—faint traces, like ghosts, all around her. This place has seen jutsu. And not long ago.

But there's no one here now. No Boruto.

Her heart hammers harder.

"I'll find him," she murmurs. Her voice is firmer this time, more certain than she feels. "I will."

Sarada rolls her shoulders back, squaring her posture despite the pain. She reaches for her pouch—still intact. Tools accounted for. Chakra... low, but manageable. Her body is aching, but her will is iron.

She survived the fall. She always survives.

And wherever this is, whenever this is—she'll navigate it. For Boruto. For herself.

And for whatever is coming next.

The forest blurs around her as she immediately begins to leap through it—tree to tree, weight shifting with practiced grace. Her momentum is a poor distraction from the buzzing in her skull, memories teasing at the edges like shadows she can't quite catch.

Boruto. That woman. The seal.

The moment she touched the ink—it burned. Not pain, but something deeper. Like being unraveled and rewoven. And then... falling.

She grits her teeth, landing hard on a thicker branch. Her boots skid a little on the bark. She stops, catching her breath, frowning into the distance. A flicker of movement catches her eye—too fast, too intentional. Not an animal.

Not, now, she thinks, turning away. I need to find Boruto. I need to find—her, right?

Sarada keeps gracing through the trees.

Her. The enemy.

Her heart aches.

She'd fought someone. Someone, someone, that her mind isn't grasping correctly. Almost like a buzz where a solid recollection should be. But it looked like—her? She needs to stop her.

Sarada doesn't remember when she stops running—only that the world feels like it's tilting sideways beneath her feet.

Her breathing's shallow. Sharp. Her hands are scraped raw from gripping branches, from catching herself, from falling. The forest around her is too loud with silence, the wind biting with something ancient and wrong.

She lands on a tree branch and pauses, instinct flickering at the base of her neck.

Someone's nearby.

She holds her breath.

Voices. Two of them. Low. Male.

She drops lower, brushing aside a cluster of leaves.

Then she sees them.

The first man stands calm, poised. Black cloak etched with white-lined red clouds drifting like mist around him. The air shifts like the world still remembers his sins.

She knows that face.

She's studied that face. The man her father spoke of with equal parts reverence and sorrow. The brother who died before redemption could find him. The shadow that shaped the Uchiha name as much as the massacre did.

Itachi.

But her eyes barely register him before they slide to the man beside him. Tall. Black cloak fluttering with movement. One arm hidden beneath it. Head turned—just enough.

And for a split, brutal moment, the air is punched from her lungs.

"...Dad?"

Her voice is a whisper.

He turns.

Their eyes meet.

And the world breaks.

Memories crash in—sharp, fragmented, impossibly vivid. A kaleidoscope of ache and color. She's looking up at the man who was once a silhouette behind stories, a shadow on the edge of her memory, a ghost in a house where a mother spoke louder than he. She sees him—not the myth, not the silence, but the man. The father. The one she imagined a thousand ways and still never got right. He looks at her with eyes too soft for a warrior, too knowing for a stranger, too full for someone who hasn't yet walked away. And she smiles. Gods, she smiles through the tears, because for one impossible heartbeat, she's the girl who never lost him.

But it's not real.

She's staring into the eyes of a man she already asked to leave. Already begged to protect the one person the world forgot. Already watched disappear into legend. And she knows—she knows—he's going to vanish again.

Because he's always vanishing. And she will always be the one left standing in the space he leaves behind.

It's.

It's him. Her father. Sasuke Uchiha. The man she hasn't seen in three years. Not since he disappeared. Not since the rumors. The fear. The long nights where her mother stared at the window. The lies they told her to keep her steady while everything inside her was falling apart. Lies that she knew the damn truth to.

He looks the same.

Exactly the same.

Like time didn't touch him. Like he never left.

And he stares at her like she's not real.

"...Sarada?"

His voice is soft. Disbelieving. Caught between recognition and denial.

She falls.

He steps forward, distraught.

She stumbles back, suddenly breathless.

This is not the same man.

She brandishes her weapon, contorting her vivid, ink eyes into a bloody carmine that sways her vision from effort. "Who are you?" She snarls, stepping forward menacingly. A contradiction.

The man doesn't move.

But he answers.

"Uchiha Sasuke."

Sarada looks deeply. Looks thoroughly. Through every chakra line, through any Genjutsu this may be. She won't be fooled by a cruel trick. She refuses.

But there is no trick.

There is no trick, nor is there any sameness in his one, lone eye looking desperately at her. Like he can't possibly perceive who she is.

And.

Suddenly.

It clicks.

The past, the portal, an uncle never met, her mind wavers. This is her father.

But not the one who left.

"You don't know," she blurts, her voice cracking down the middle. Her hand shakes, kunai trembling in the glinting sunlight. "You don't know yet."

"What are you—?"

He moves forward, instinctively. She flinches.

"Don't," she whispers. "Just—don't."

Itachi watches silently. He knows enough to stay back.

Sasuke freezes, hand loose at his side. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. A third time, he speaks. "You're older than you should be."

Same voice. Same, same. Not the same. She almost laughs. Of course he'd say that. "And you're earlier than you should be," she says carefully, unable to digest what to do. But is this her time? Is this her time, really? Or is this farther back? Is there still a chance to stop it all? No. But it's not. Itachi is alive. Which means—guilt, regardless, is so tender in her heart. "You haven't left yet. You haven't disappeared. You haven't—" Her throat closes. Oh, Sage. She's babbling. Shut up! Shut up, please!

But her words. They're bile. They're vomit, nasty and acrid, burning her throat with a promise that eats the entrails of her aching heart. "I never wanted to hate you," she pleads. Oh. Are these words she wanted to forget? "But sometimes I do. Because you listened to me. Because you trusted me. And I wasn't strong enough to survive what that meant."

The words slap the air between them.

Sasuke reels, just slightly. "Disappeared...?"

She laughs. A terrible, broken sound.

"You don't remember leaving me. Of course you don't." Her eyes glisten, but she blinks it away. "You don't remember watching me fight against a village that thought I was just your kid. Who was mad! Because of—" Boruto. Always stupid Boruto. Never her. "You never came back," She says, so devastatingly.

And her father.

He looks so, so lost.

Stupid, she thinks, between madness. This is not the same man! But she can barely hear herself as all her bitterness hurls out of her sodden tongue.

"I—Sarada, I would never—"

"But you will." Her sharingan flashes, again. It burns the coils of her chakra. "You already have."

The pain ricochets through him—visible, real.

"I don't understand," he murmurs. "How are you here?"

She wipes her face roughly with her sleeve, lowering her weapon. "I don't know. Something happened. A fight. A seal. Boruto was there. And now I'm—" She swallows. "Back. Too far back."

Sasuke steps forward again, slower this time. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

Her voice shakes. "You don't get to care." Oh, she doesn't mean that.

But she's so angry.

She's so angry that she's had to deal with the scorn, with being branded the daughter of a traitor. She's so damn tired. She's starving, her bones ache, her organs are hurt, her chakra is gone—and she's mad. She's mad she's alone, again, without Boruto, in the past, mad that she has to see her father this fucking way and it's not even him!

Oh. Oh, but she missed him.

He stops.

And for a long moment, neither of them speaks.

Then, barely above a whisper:

"I missed you," she admits, biting every word as it leaves her.

He closes the space between them, cautiously, like approaching a wild animal.

Then he kneels—kneels—in front of her, slowly reaching out a hand.

She doesn't move. But she doesn't stop him either.

His hand brushes her wrist, trembling. Just a touch.

"I don't know what I did," he says. "But I'm sorry."

And that's when it really hits her.

This isn't the father who left.

This is the one before.

And for the first time in years, she lets herself break.

Sarada folds forward, collapsing into him—because she forgives, because she can't hold it in anymore. All the guilt, the grief, the ache of missing someone she chose to lose.

And Sasuke holds her like she's already his ghost.

Itachi turns away.

Because this reunion was never meant to happen.

But fate is cruel.

And time is crueler.

And Boruto is still gone.

[. . .]

12-year-old Uchiha Sasuke can't stop staring at the older versions of his teammate best friend.

One of them looks dead. Just. Dead. Alive, like a walking corpse whose mind has failed him. It freaks Sasuke out because a sight like that doesn't look right. Naruto is an obnoxious, stupid idiot with eyes so bright they're blinding. Not a twitching statue who's staring forward with an emptiness that's akin to the way he used to look at himself in the mirror, before all the rage came flooding in.

He knows beautiful Adult Sakura and pretty Teenage Sakura are doing their best to manage with him. Sasuke has no idea what has caused the Teenage Uzumaki's loss of sun, but he's not keen on finding out, not when he has his hands occupied with his prettiest Sakura, who has yet to stir within his arms.

That, and because his attention naturally draws itself to the brightest in the room—if possible, Adult Naruto.

He talks so... comfortably, with his Adult self. His adult self is as he expects him to be: quiet, tired. Adult Naruto...

Well. The sight of them is very comforting. Sasuke hates to acknowledge it, because it wedges something profoundly meaningful in his chest, something like hope that maybe, just maybe, he won't need to lose those closest to him to achieve what he needs. That, after all, if he achieves what he gets, he will have something other than the dark to return home to.

Um. Not that he needs friends. Evidently. Truly, none.

Sasuke looks down at his Sakura, drooping.

He's so tired, honestly. Strung up, anxious, all because he wanted to kill—the man that's apparently coming with him.

His heart twists and drops into the acids of his contorting stomach.

Don't think about that.

Even though he really, really can't help it.

His eyes skim the floor, then the walls, then everything that isn't him.

Itachi.

The name rots like mold in the back of his mouth. He doesn't say it. He won't. Names have power, and Sasuke refuses to grant him that again. He already has too much.

He adjusts Sakura in his arms again and focuses on the fall of her hair instead. It's easier. Calmer. Safe, in a way only she can be, even when she's unconscious. A stupid, childish part of him wishes she were awake. She'd be annoying again, annoying in the sense that he defines, because someone as intolerant as him doesn't know how to process the affection she gives him, so he decides to hate it instead.

She'd be saving him right now if she were awake. But she's not.

He doesn't deserve her warmth. Not now. Maybe not ever. But she's here, and that's what matters.

Still... the thought slinks back in.

He has to bring him with them.

He doesn't know if it's a punishment, a test, or just some cruel twist of whatever force governs these scrolls. But it isn't fair. It's never been fair.

This... Naruto's son said so many things that he's still trying to process. It's already a huge shock that he's witnessing Naruto's son in action, in real time, and it's another blow to his frail heart that he has a daughter, too. A daughter whom he is intensely but dreadfully curious about. A daughter who, half of him, hopes never to see. Because he is just barely keeping up with everything he's seen and witnessed—the other Sakura's, Sakura's fear of him that twists his guts into bloody knots, the knowledge that his future self is someone he barely recognizes anymore, having to see Itachi again, Naruto himself, Naruto's damn son, a daughter he shares genes with the girl he holds so reverently—it's too much. He feels like he's going to implode.

(Not to mention the fucking marital problems. What does that even mean? Is he not happy, even in the future? Had he thought wrong?)

What's worse is the quiet. That gnawing silence between his two older selves. Not angry, not loud—just knowing. And somehow, that's harder to look at than the rest. Like they understand the things he hasn't lived yet, like they already mourn the version of him that hasn't been broken the right way.

(Or maybe the wrong way. He can't tell anymore.)

And Naruto—

The older one doesn't shine. He takes a closer look, and he's exhausted. He's not loud. Not like he used to. Not like he should. Not like the one in his present time, jumping around the older Sakura like she's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. (Sasuke is not jealous.) Sasuke hates how much he wishes he could see it. To be granted relief for the older Naruto's actions. The idiot's laugh. The stupid declarations. The blinding optimism that bounces off his skull like rubber and still sticks, even when Sasuke wants to peel it off and throw it away.

But seeing the lack of it? With the teenage Naruto so dead and the adult version of him so bland, it's—it's something wrong.

And all Sasuke can think is: Did I do that? Did I take that away?

Maybe this is what growing up looks like. Maybe this is the price of chasing vengeance so hard you forget why you started running.

Maybe this is the future, and he's staring straight into it.

(And he is. How is he supposed to deal with everything?)

There's a truth he has yet to know, still. Sasuke isn't stupid. His older selves carry it like a sacred text. It involves his brother, evidently. And. Himself.

Sage. He wants to throw up again.

At the very least, Adult Sakura's stable chakra filter she'd installed inside him (he doesn't know where the fuck she got that from) is working wonders, even if his side feels sore. But that's just a small mercy, compared to the riots going on in his head.

He swallows. It's dry and ugly. He wishes someone else would make this choice for him.

To decide if he deserves to know or not.

But.

Sasuke needs to know. He can't live his life not knowing. Boruto—he wonders if that's a different name for Neji, and Sasuke is starting to put scary pieces together with Naruto and that weird Hyuuga girl he's never talked to—said to take his older selves back home, they need Itachi.

And.

He does not want to.

But the scroll chose him. He knows. He was given it, but there was this pull, this knowing at the time. And deep down, he knows why.

Because if he can't face him, then this—this fractured mess of timelines, of broken Narutos, sad Sakuras, and silent selves—it doesn't get fixed.

Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut for half a second too long, the way he does when trying to make pain go away without admitting it hurts.

He breathes in. Slow. Shallow. Heavy.

Then, finally:

He looks up.

Not at Naruto.

Not at Sakura.

Not at the future.

But at the shadow waiting behind it all.

And for the first time, without rage. Without screaming.

Only resolve.

"Thinking pretty hard there, huh, baby Sasuke?"

Sasuke, very carefully, does not startle.

He turns to regard the new blonde leaning down, staring at him goofily, with caution. Boruto is still someone he's unsure about. He's his... what, mentor? Sasuke can't imagine why. His oldest self is clearly brain-dead to take in a brat like this. Then again... Boruto sounds smart, unlike the dobe. So maybe there had been some merit. But still.

The teasing smile on his face is sending alarms through Sasuke's head. Meddling, Naruto-shaped alarms.

"What?" He snaps.

Boruto taps the side of his head. Sasuke tries not to stare at the slash across the headband. "Thinking. Are you deaf? I think we might need Aunt Sakura to check on you again..." Boruto trails off, concerned.

Sasuke bristles, unintentionally bringing Sakura closer to him. "I don't. Go away." He wants time alone for himself. To process.

Boruto straightens, leaning on one hip. "Huh. Okay, grumpy. I was just checking on you before we left. Any thoughts you wanna share with the class before we do? I know we're at a time crunch here, but I have a funny feeling nobody has asked you what you feel, yet. Considering you're the variable in this mess I created, datteba'sa."

Sasuke's jaw clenches. "I'm fine."

Boruto rolls his eyes. "You never change, do you?"

Sasuke furrows his brows. "Huh?"

"Yeah, huh," Boruto mocks, though there's a fond, bitter smile on his face. "That's your go-to phrase. 'I'm fine'. When, clearly, you're not."

Sasuke scowls.

Boruto is undeterred. "I'm gonna keep this simple, baby Sasuke. The sooner you acknowledge you love your friends and your little girlfriend here," Boruto points down at Sakura—

Sasuke's changed his mind. Boruto's worse than Naruto.

"—the sooner you'll be happy. My mentor's a constipated weirdo who loves very much but can't show it. Since I'm already here, I recommend the best treatment: therapy!" Boruto throws his hands up, and a subtle genjutsu of confetti juts out, quickly fading.

Before Sasuke can snarl at him that he's deluded in thinking watching 500,000 times of your family's murder will diminish with something as abysmal as therapy, Boruto abruptly turns to look behind him.

"You too, Medium-roasted Uchiha!"

Said Medium-roasted Uchiha stares at him.

Sasuke hadn't even seen him.

Boruto clicks his teeth. "Still cool..." He lets out a sigh, "But emotionally horrid. Yeah. So. You? Fix that with Aunt Sakura, okay, datteba'sa?" He juts his chin out to the teenage Haruno, who is doing a very poor job of nosing around in their business. Boruto doesn't call her out on it, though. She's part of said business, after all. It's wild that Sasuke can just tell.

Sakura doesn't change at all, then.

(Relief.)

"Okay," Boruto leaves, "Let's go."

Adult Sakura lifts a brow. "You're done bullying them?" Sasuke avoids looking at the Uzumaki in tow.

Boruto scoffs. "Please! They were already bullying each other."

Sasuke refrains from a nasty comment.

Naruto, does not.

"Yeah, teme. Loser. He bullies me the most!"

Ugh.

[. . .]

"Your invasion fails," Uchiha Sarada of the Immortal Rinnegan tells the sneering snake pupil of the soon-to-be late Third Hokage. Her tone is calm as she assesses his twitching body slowly bleeding out of every stumped limb she took morbid delight in chopping off, interest gleaming in her sparkling eyes.

Orochimaru doesn't reply to her. His seething is jumbled between the gurgles of blood staining the stone flooring in one of his bases underground.

She turns and locks eyes with a young, grey-haired man who could be confused for a teenager. "Kabuto," She approaches him and though he does his best to hide it, Sarada can nonetheless see with utmost clarity of fear in his eyes. Anticipation even, for death.

But Sarada isn't cruel. "How is Uchiha Sasuke doing?" She whispers, putting both hands behind her back. Kabuto eyes her bulging muscles with several streams of sweat.

"As of three days ago, he is now in contact with two versions of his older self," The medic answers dutifully, not without the curdling sneer of poison.

Sarada has half a mind to kill him on the spot for how much of a nuisance he is now. But she won't. Kabuto had become a changed man. Besides, with her around, things will go differently this time. They must. There is no other way they can. She smiles. "That's great. Then that means I am no longer needed here," She expresses with intention, stepping aside to allow Kabuto to get near his master.

Kabuto does not move. Funny.

"You are very lucky, Orochimaru," Sarada hums as she brings her arm up for an inspection, studying her burned skin. "If not for Mitski's existence, I would've gotten rid of you as soon as I laid eyes on you. You were nothing but a terrible influence on dear Uchiha Sasuke," Her eyes pulse a warning red. "I've given you your answer of the deal. Seek Uchiha Sasuke no further or Mitski's mercy will not be enough to save you."

In a flicker, she's gone.

[. . .]

27-year-old Uchiha Sarada already knows that by the time she arrives in Konoha, Boruto and her little family will be gone.

That's fine.

It's better they're not here to see the drop of Hierarchy.

"Hello, Hiruzen."

The Third Hokage doesn't twitch, but Sarada hears the startle of his heartbeat, exposing his true feelings.

She makes sure to keep her face carefully neutral.

"I know you're aware of who I am. That matters little to me," She speaks in a soft voice, slowly coming closer to stand beside him. She can sense many ANBU waiting for their leader's symbol, ready to leap into action. Sarada doesn't have much worry. She hasn't, not for a long time. Therefore she is numb when she meets the Third Hokage's gaze, taking in his aged and grim features puffing the cancer stick inch by inch.

"Uchiha Sarada," Hiruzen greets, inclining his head. There is danger in his eyes. A warning.

Sarada doesn't care. She's here for one thing only. "Asking for my father's whereabouts is pointless."

The Hokage narrows his eyes.

"I come here for Shimura Danzo."

Hiruzen stiffens.

This time, she allows a vacant smile full of teeth to show.