Bridges of Ice
are the most fragile.
by BlackRaven23
We're not the same, dear, as we used to be.
The seasons have changed, and so have we.
There was little we could say, and even less that we could do
To stop the ice from getting thinner
under me and you.
The flowers are crusted with frost when Naruto leaves. There's no trace of him left behind on the light snow spread around the dying trees, nothing to indicate him ever having been alive in the empty apartment but for a lonely ramen ticket sitting in the cracked wooden cabinet above the sink. His memories and stories he keeps to himself, the rest of his possessions burned or buried, impossible to find even for the smartest of the ninjas.
Everything is neat in the one-room apartment he used to occupy, the bed bare and the refrigerator quiet. Snow collects in the corners of the windows, frosting the clear panes until they are opaque. The three flowers Naruto keeps on his windowsill, presents from the three closest friends he will ever have, are nearly dead, their flowers wilted and green leaves slowly turning white as though with frost.
He doesn't mind, though he used to spend every waking moment he wasn't sleeping, eating, or training to take care of them as though they were his own children. It doesn't matter anymore—not really.
Iruka's gone, too busy now to take care of the "older and more capable" Naruto, too consumed to be a father anymore. Sakura is wrapped up in her own training, her own aspirations blocking out everything else. He hardly ever sees her anymore, and though he smiles every time, it's getting harder and harder to keep straight.
And Sasuke's just gone, lost into the whirling white that Naruto can't seem to melt away with his smile or the fire curled within the nine tails. His flower stands still tall, stalk uncurled and proud, even as the leaves fall away and leave the single flower to wither without the sunlight.
Naruto sits at the kitchen table, strangely quiet, for a long while, just staring at that one flower, unable to move as fury builds within him. Frustration pulls at his throat and his fists clench tighter every second he stays still. And suddenly he can no longer handle it, and the door slams loudly in the empty room, and Naruto never returns.
There are too many 'what ifs' and 'could haves' clouding the air around him, too many memories of Sasuke hidden in the crevices of that room, carved into the trees of the training grounds, intelligibly scrawled on the backs of receipts and on the inside covers of books. He's everywhere, so Naruto has to be nowhere.
But no matter where he turns, there is no nowhere to disappear into, no place that he can no longer hurt with the unmitigated pain of betrayal and broken trust. Some part of him might have believed that Sasuke would return, but as the years pass and there is no sign of Sasuke, that little piece withers and dies like the flowers on his windowsill and he can wait no longer. He is caged, the high mortar walls and green forests suffocating him, the memories they elicit sickening him. He doesn't even look back at the crowded city behind him, following the pull of his heart, farther and farther north. Soon he'll enter a place where there is no spring, where no sun warms the soil and no flowers test the biting air.
He sees the sands in spring, warm glow of the sun highlighting the gold and forcing the red blood flowers out of the proud century plant in the center of the desert. He sees the mountains in summer, thickened by undying trees and rocky streams that fall away as Naruto climbs. He sees the lakes in fall, clear as the sky is clouded, their waters freezing him as he treads softly across their waves. He sees the tundras in winter, permafrost hardening the ground past comfort and short scrubs resiliently alone, unable to guard him from the fast winds that howl through the emptiness.
He sees the ice plateaus in spring, ice frosting the sky as days stretch on longer and soon it's impossible to sleep, the sun continually in the sky. He soon stops sleeping entirely and he no longer understands what he is doing up here. He can't remember anything but his pain, here where the world turns slowly and he can't even remember a time that there was not Sasuke.
He can't forget him; in the white sky and whiter earth, where there is nothing left to him but his memories. When he crawls into the small space he's carved under the snow, heat melting the frost into ice, he imagines that he's with Sasuke, their warmth slowly filling the night air.
And then the endless days soon darken into endless nights, the sun showing less and less as the nights lengthen. Naruto is left on an infinite plain of darkness, cold and alone, and he cannot live. The darkness crushes him, and nightmares come when he tries to sleep, wrapping him in painful memories, unable to awake.
There are dreams of fire, loud and fast enough to raze towns as chakra surges through him as though he were a live wire, arms, legs, tails lashing out, leaving chaos and nothingness in his wake. Dreams of unbearable heat, unfathomable rage, and the deep whiteness of power. He is too large for his skin, his spirit exploding like a supernova within the vastness of his dreams, and he wakes, screaming, hot, cold and afraid, feeling too much and yet so little. His senses are so raw that he can feel hear think want everything and the stimulus almost overwhelms him.
He feels every inch of his body, only the roughness of his hands over his clammy skin reminding him that there is no fire-gold fur, that he is as tiny as he is. He recognizes only his small rage, his anger seeming pathetic against so large a power, so insignificant and he hates it in his small way.
It is only after he recognizes himself in the darkness that he can fall asleep, exhausted and pale, feeling smaller than ever as the sensations wash over him and away.
Naruto wanders across the plateau, unseeing, trying to flee the endless cold, black pain. There is nothing to stop the relentless blizzards that dizzy him, force him to huddle, shivering and just barely surviving, in a ball on the cold snow. The clouds often block the stars from sight and the moon seems so far away, a small orb infinitesimally small and unreachable.
The sun is tinier, its sunrise and sunset soon becoming indistinguishable and Naruto knows that its time to leave, to go back. All that this has done is made Sasuke even more prominent, a more painful figure in his life. He cannot forget him, not like this.
He walks towards the sun.
Each step is more painful than the last, his clothes torn to tatters and his body frail compared to the fierceness of the elements. He sinks knee-deep, waist deep, in the falling snow, but he walks on, pain sinking in as the numbness slides away.
But it becomes warmer, the snow failing to slush, icy rivers crashing down around him as he slips down the mountains in winter, rocks slick with invisible ice. He sleeps in caves, under trees, next to rivers as sensation comes back to him in pieces, and he shivers in the cold.
Once, he falls in a river by accident, but instead of fighting the overwhelming current, he allows it to carry him downstream, surrounded by cold again but no longer alone, the water suffocating him in a way he has not felt in a long time. There is something about being so close to death that makes him feel so alive. The two are in close tandem, on either side of the same pendulum and the closer you get to one, the closer you are to the other.
Color returns, bright splashes, even mitigated, are painful at first—the sprouts struggling by the river's edge, the red ties around tree branches as offerings, scattered irises covering an unseen grave—but the sky is still a dull iron, sending even the brightest colors into grayscale.
The desert is vast and untouched in spring, unexpected rains hammering down in brief flashes before the sky brightens to an unbelievable blue that Naruto wants to fall into and never return from. Instead, he starts to run, laughing, trying to catch the edge of the blue in his fingers, body burning from the exertion, exhilaration running through his veins. This is what he has been looking for, this untarnished color, startling him from his self-induced coma. He feels unlike before.
He wishes Sasuke could see this, feel this. For he finally is, finally not blocking what he could see, his focus expanding, growing in the spring like the edges of the lakes as rain patters down.
The forests of his home country are cool, green and grey shadows playing across his hair as he leaps from branch to branch, the bark of the trees rough, coming to pieces between his fingers. His laughter fills in the spaces left behind by the birds' sweeter song, and something is sparked within him, something he extinguished in the whiteness of the winter.
Finally, he smiles without pain and something begins to call him from this exile, call him home again. He knows its time to return.
He comes upon the great gates of Konoha, the wooden doors imposing and impregnable. Standing before them, Naruto suddenly recalls that he hasn't been home for several years, and must be labeled a missing nin. Fear follows the latticework of his spine down.
ANBU step out from behind the doors, katanas unsheathed and white ceramic faces inhuman. They will kill him, he is certain. He stands stock still, unsure but unarmed, as they circle him, animals on the prowl. They ask for identification that he does not have and one steps forward, masked as a dragon, sword leveled at him.
They shout and he takes a stumbling step backwards as they close in. The fox cries out to be released, to protect its container, and Naruto can feel the seal begin to expand across his stomach and he fights away the overwhelming power. They step closer, one before the rest, a lion with hair as darkest night and he wonders why they no longer know him.
And then they stop as a tall figure moves between them, masked as a red-eyed phoenix. The figure turns back to look at them and barks,
"It's Naruto, you imbeciles. He's back. Now, quit waving your swords around uselessly and get back to work before this city is overtaken while your backs are turned."
The mask faces Naruto again, and he starts, stepping away. The phoenix takes one step forward, as he takes one back.
Then it's pulled up to reveal Sasuke.
Numbness retakes his body and he can no longer move, no longer breathe.
"He's back," Sasuke repeats, eyes so dark under the cloudy sky. "You're back."
Naruto stands still, so Sasuke takes the first step forward, and then another, until he is right next to Naruto. Slowly, as though he may break him, Sasuke wraps his arms around Naruto's shoulders, pressing his face into Naruto's cold neck. The warmth from his breath enlivens Naruto, who is suddenly reminded that is not a dream, and he grabs Sasuke, bringing him closer to him. He is crushed to Sasuke's chest, suffocated, surrounded by warmth and his skin, untouched for two whole years, runs with sensation.
This is what he was looking for. What he missed.
Lala. This came out sounding so very... melodramatic. Or, at least the title is. I think. Whatever. Besides, its Death Cab for Cutie. Yay.