He thinks that sometimes he is alone. The voice in his head—the monster, the demon, the devil—doesn't count as a companion, and the others will never understand. Of course, these very thoughts chafe against the grain of who he is and he quickly forces them away. That does not mean, though, that they don't linger, whispering little insecurities and fears into the sensitive shell of his ear.
It's rare, but Naruto likes to be alone. He will bumble his way to the old training grounds and relive the moments of his youth—when life was simple, clean, and sharp. It seems as though his once staunch ideals have become blurry, as though filmed over by a layer of static. As the sun sets and the shadows stretch and flex, as though creeping in for an attack, so too does his heart wilt, just a little bit.
This is short lived though, because Naruto is strong, and because she comes to beat him out of his melancholy.
She sits beside him with a neutral face and he peeks at her out of the corner of her eye. Despite the shadows, her hair still retains its hot, neon glow. She is embarrassed by this, but he can never agree, because he thinks her cherry blossom hair is one of the most beautiful things about her.
Well, that, and her monstrous strength. And the way her chakre feels as it flows through his body to repair broken bone and knit ruptured flesh. She is good like that.
So he sits at the training ground and Sakura sits beside him and they gaze off into the past, like watching a silent movie play behind their eyes, different scenes merging together to form the perfect bittersweet stream of memories.
Somewhere far, far away the last Uchiha fights and kills and slowly falls into madness, and his first team, the true team, rekindles their hope with each other's presence.
Let's go home, Sakura will whisper as the temperature drops and the cacophony of nightlife rises—the purr of crickets and the lone cry of a singular owl.
Naruto will nod vigorously, his sunlit smile spreading across his face like the warm rays of the sun after a long, cold night. Yes, Sakura-chan, he will reply, because she is the one and only, his in spirit and life and heart.
They will link fingers, loosely, and wander through winding city streets. Behind them creeps the shadow of a young boy, clawed fingers scrabbling desperately at their minds, begging not to be left behind.