Author's Note: This is your warning for character death. I apologize in advance for anyone who forgot to read the author's notes and ended up with a nasty surprise.


When Sasuke finally manages to pry it from Naruto's cold fingers, what he finds is not a weapon, not the kunai that he'd been expecting but a key. A simple, silver key – a key to Sasuke's house, back when he'd had a house. He hadn't even remembered giving a copy to Naruto, not until this very moment. And now Naruto is here, dead in front of him and clutched in his hand is the key to Sasuke's house, his heart, his life. Tied to the ring at the end of the key is a note, written in the unmistakable chicken-scratch scrawl that Sasuke had learned early on to decipher – I can't forget. I'm sorry. Here's your key.

What is it supposed to mean?

They're in the desert, in Wind Country – a few miles northwest of Suna, a few miles southwest of Bird Country, surrounded on all sides by unfamiliar red sand and dust and in the midst of it all, Sasuke sits down next to Naruto's corpse and stares down at the key in his hand. Naruto followed him halfway to Iwa to give him – this? A relic? A memory of things that once were, that's all this stupid key is.

Sasuke has never been the sentimental type, so why should this bother him so much?


There had been a time when they were close. Not friends, exactly, but close. They had a strange relationship, Sasuke and Naruto, based entirely on rivalry and competition, but at the base of it all was trust. They were symbiotic. They fed off of each other's energy, used it to push themselves higher. Sasuke relied on Naruto, and Naruto relied on him.


When the wind blows through the high towering cliffs of Wind Country, it sounds like wailing, like a mourning song.

When Sasuke was a child, he had accompanied his father on a business venture to Jiro Island. The people there were dark-skinned and quiet, refusing to meet his eyes no matter how much he stared – and stare he did, until a sharp jerk on his arm turned his gaze back to his father. "Staring is impolite," Sasuke's father said, but the reproach was gentle.

What remained in Sasuke's memory, though, more than the food or the dark eyes of the people was the singing. There had been a funeral there, a slow procession in the grass on the side of the road, and the women shrouded in black had sung weeping songs, so tragic and so lost that Sasuke's eyes had welled in sympathy. He was young then, not so jaded.

Those voices – that is what the canyons remind him of. The wind is singing Naruto to his rest.


When the dust storm comes, Sasuke doesn't run. He could have – he should have, by all rights. He could have outrun the wind, but something compels him to stay. And so he kneels over Naruto's body and turns his back to the storm, and shields him from harm.

And he still can't understand what it's supposed to mean.

He had given the key to Naruto when they were twelve, when they were genin, fresh-faced and enthusiastic about the world (or at least Naruto was – by then Sasuke had already hardened himself, already made himself a stone). The key unlocked only a select few doors of the Uchiha complex – certainly Sasuke was not naïve enough to give Naruto access to his family's legacy – but there was meaning in the action. A certain amount of trust, an unspoken declaration of tentative friendship. They were rivals, certainly, but for all the biting comments and competitive glances, Sasuke would have trusted Naruto with his life.

Sasuke kneels next to Naruto's body and wonders why he didn't remember until now. Naruto had been so surprised, so happy, and Sasuke had felt some small glow of satisfaction at the expression on his face. Had Naruto come all this way, chased him halfway across the world just to end this? To give him back the last relic of what used to be between them?

He thinks back, tries to remember what Naruto had said to him. Sasuke had turned to face him, chidori blazing, and Naruto's eyes had widened – what had he said? "Sasuke, wait – " But Sasuke had never been patient, not when it came to this, and the first blow had fallen before Naruto could finish his sentence.

What had he been about to say?


In Naruto's pocket is a letter, folded in thirds and well-worn, as though he'd handled it often. It's from Sakura, and is postmarked Kusagakure – the last place that Sasuke rested, just outside the Hidden Grass' borders.

"I found your letter. I don't know what you intend to do, Naruto – what does 'put this behind us' mean? You said you would never give up, but what's the line between giving up and letting go? I know you said you're not going to fight him, but if you come back hurt I'll kill you myself."

Put this behind us. What does that mean? Sasuke stares at the words for a long time, touches them, absorbs them through his fingertips and into his body. Letting go. That was what Naruto intended to do. Whatever there had been between them for all these years, Naruto was putting an end to it. All he had wanted was to give Sasuke back his key, to give him back that last tie to their old not-relationship.

And Sasuke had killed him without a second thought.


Sasuke leaves Naruto's body to the sands.


From Iwagakure, he sends a letter to Sakura. It's a short letter – and the first time that Sasuke has apologized since the day his family died. He does not tell her the location of Naruto's body, nor does he tell them exactly what it was that Naruto meant to return, but he does tell her what happened and he does tell her he's sorry. The Uchiha are (were) a proud clan and Sasuke knows this, but Naruto has always been the exception to his rules.

He doesn't expect her to forgive him. Sakura always was good at holding grudges, especially where Naruto was concerned. But he needs to say it, and he needs to her to hear it.

It takes four days for the letter to travel from Iwagakure to Konohagakure. By the time Sakura reads it, Sasuke is gone.


They search for Naruto's body for a year before the Hokage issues a death certificate. Every man and woman in the village attends the funeral – Naruto is even more famous in death than he was in life, or so it would seem. No one speaks. There are no shrouded women singing – it seems that the wind is the only mourning song that Naruto will receive, but that is enough. There are flowers on the empty grave, a headstone over an empty coffin.

From somewhere to the south, standing on the forehead of the Fourth Hokage, a lone figure watches.