Brother, brother.
Aniki.
Nii-san.
Otouto.
There are a thousand different words, and Sasuke hates them all.
If you listen to most people, they will say that Sasuke hates the word brother more than anything.
He doesn't.
It's gentle admonishments and bastard and Sasuke-kun spoken with a particular tone that get to him.
It's blonde hair or a pink hat, silver fur on a dog – not black hair and pale skin and dark eyes. It's orange clothes, fingerless gloves or medic pouches splashed with ink, not red and blue and white, crass manners, eye-smiles and admonishment to them, not formal tones and icy gazes.
And as he looks over the ruins of he world he helped destroy, he flinches as a low whistle sounds next to him.
"Daaaaamn, Sasubastard. You really fucked up, huh? Haha, You're-OW"
"Shut up Naruto! Sasuke-kun didn't mean to do it!"
"Ow, Sakura-chan! He still did it! I didn't mean to tear your dress that one ti-"
"NARUTO SHUT UP!"
"Maaa, maaa, kids. Try not to squabble. Why not ask Sasuke?"
And even though he knows they aren't real, because they're dead, they're dead he knows that because he killed them, maybe not always with his hands but he's seen each of their dead bodies and felt their warm blood cooling, he answers.
"Hn."
"Haha! SEE Sakura-chan, the Sasu-bastard agree-wait."
And he knows they aren't there, he knows, but he still feels the warm heavy weight of an orange ninja, smells Naruto's salty-spicy scent and then feels his large callused fingers prodding his cheek.
"You never agree with me, bastard. Why start now?"
"Naruto, that's not true. Sasuke-kun….actually, Sasuke, you really don't. What happened?"
Delicate and floral, covering the undercurrent of blood and metal from her medic job. Slender fingers, delicate, touching his shoulder and soft curves hesitantly pressing against him as she reaches up to take his temperature.
"Maaaa, something wrong, Sasuke?"
He smells like dirt and dog, and his hands are smaller than Naruto's but rougher, scarred in a way that the Kyuubi doesn't let Naruto do. His heavy hand ruffles Sasuke's hair but there's not a hair out of place if he looks in a mirror he knows that.
"….."
Sasuke looks in the water and he stands alone. If he relies on anything else than his eyes, he hears them. He feels them. He smells them.
He feels it when Naruto drapes himself over his shoulders, whining that he's tired when they go on a long march.
He listens to Sakura's admonishment when he pushes himself too hard, gentle scent filling his nostrils.
He smells Kakashi at night, an almost dank smell of damp dog when it rains, feels him pull the other two off him then pat his back.
So when Madara wants his eyes for some new project in his perfect world, Sasuke hands them over with no complaint.
It's easier to be with them now because his new eyes don't lie, they stand right next to him with exasperated, worried, amused expressions.
"Maaa, Sasuke?"
"…Bastard, did you really cut out your eyes?"
"Naruto!"
"What? Bastard shoulda known I'd comment on it!"
He interjects.
"Shut up Dobe."
Naruto looks affronted and charges at him. He's intercepted by a silver-haired Jounin and then berated by pink-haired medic.
And Sasuke smirks and waltzes over and punches him in the face, now that he can see it.
Doesn't want to look at it too long, after all.